Weary and heartbroken, Serilda returned for the horse before she continued her search. She held it by the reins so it wouldn’t run off as she walked slowly along the road, searching as far as her eyes could see.
But she reached the shadows of the trees, having found no one else.
Little Gerdrut was not there.
Chapter 50
She blindfolded the horse so it would not spook as they entered the Aschen Wood. To take the long path around the forest was unthinkable—and besides, this was clearly the way the hunt had gone. In the daylight, they would have vanished back behind the veil, but what if Gerdrut was still here in the woods? Serilda’s eyes darted back and forth along the edges of the road, searching the brambles and weeds, the thick overgrowth crowding onto the dirt path. Looking for signs of scavengers and blood and a tiny, crumpled body abandoned in the wild.
For once, the forest held no allure for her. Its mystery, its dark murmurs. She paid them no heed. She did not search the distant trees for signs of forest folk. She did not listen for whispers calling to her. If any apparition waited to dance upon a bridge, if any beast wished to coax her into their realm, they were disappointed. Serilda had thoughts only for little Gerdrut, the last missing child.
Could she still be alive? She had to believe. She had to hope.
Even if that meant the Erlking was holding her, a treasure to coax Serilda back to his domain.
She emerged from the trees with no answers to her questions. There was no sign of the child, not in the woods, not at the edge of the forest as Adalheid’s wall came into view.
By the time she was riding through the city, Serilda was certain that she would not find Gerdrut. Not on this side of the veil. The Erlking had kept her. He wanted there to be a reason for Serilda to come back.
And so, here she was. Terrified. Desperate. Full of a guilt almost too painful to bear. But more than that, a rage had begun to simmer from her fingertips to her toes, building inside her with suffocating force.
He had killed them as if it was nothing. Such brutal deaths. And what for? Because he felt slighted? Betrayed? Because he wanted to send Serilda a message? Because he needed moregold?
He was a monster.
She would find a way to rescue Gerdrut. That was all she could care about right now.
But someday, somehow, she would avenge the others. She would find a way to repay the Erlking for what he had done.
The horse reached the end of the main thoroughfare, the castle looming before her. She turned and headed toward the inn, ignoring the curious glances that followed her. Always, her appearance made such a stir in this town, even if many of the townspeople had grown familiar with her. But today, her expression must have been its own warning. She felt like she was a dark cloud rolling along the shore, full of thunder and lightning.
No one dared speak to her, but she could feel their curiosity at her back.
Serilda alighted from the horse before it had come to a complete stop, and hastily tied it to a post in front of the inn. She barged in through the doors, her heart choking her.
She ignored the faces that turned toward her and marched straight to the bar, where Lorraine was putting a cork back into a bottle.
“Whatever’s got into you?” she asked, looking like she was tempted to tell Serilda to go back outside and try coming back in with a better attitude this time. “And why is your dress covered in mud? You look like you slept in a pigsty.”
“Is Leyna all right?”
Lorraine froze, a flicker of uncertainty flashing in her eyes. “Of course she’s all right. What’s happened?”
“You’re sure? She wasn’t taken last night?”
Lorraine’s eyes widened. “Taken? You mean—”
The door to the kitchen swung open, and Serilda exhaled sharply when Leyna burst through, a tray of cured meats and cheeses in her hands.
She broke into a smile at the sight of Serilda. “Another night at the castle?” she said, her eagerness for more stories brightening her eyes.
Serilda shook her head. “Not exactly.” She turned back to Lorraine and, suddenly conscious of the silence of the restaurant, lowered her voice. “Five children went missing from Märchenfeld last night. Four of them are now dead. I think he still has the fifth.”
“Great gods,” Lorraine whispered, pressing a hand to her chest. “So many. Why?…?”
“No one went missing from Adalheid?” she asked hurriedly.
“Not that I—no. No, I’m sure I would have heard.”