Her mother, who yearned for freedom, had been lured away by the hunt and never seen again.
Serilda had seen many ghosts in Adalheid Castle. Could her mother be among them? Was she dead? Had the Erlking kept her spirit?
Or—another thought, one that made her feel hollow inside.
What if her mother had not been killed? What if she had awoken the next day, abandoned somewhere in the wilds of the country … and simply chosen not to come back home?
The questions circled endlessly through her mind, darkening what otherwise would have been a most pleasant stroll. But at least she hadn’t spotted a single hollow-eyed raven.
Anna and the twins were outside the schoolhouse, waiting for Hans and Gerdrut to arrive before they went in to begin their lessons.
“Miss Serilda!” cried Anna delightedly when she spotted her. “I’ve been practicing! Look!” Before Serilda could respond, Anna was upside down in a handstand. She even managed to take three walking steps on her hands before she dropped her feet back to the ground.
“Wonderfully done!” said Serilda. “I can tell you’ve been working hard on that.”
“Don’t you dare encourage that child,” snapped Madam Sauer from the doorway. Her appearance was like the blowing out of a lantern—it extinguished all light from their small group. “If she spends any more time upside down, she’s going to turn into a bat. And it isn’t ladylike, Miss Anna. We can all see your bloomers when you do that.”
“So?” said Anna, adjusting her dress. “Everyone sees Alvie’s bloomers all the time.” Alvie was her toddling baby brother.
“It is not the same,” said the schoolmistress. “You must learn to act with propriety and grace.” She lifted a finger. “You will sit still throughout today’s lessons or I will have you tied to your seat, do you understand?”
Anna pouted. “Yes, Madam Sauer.” But as soon as the old witch had gone back into the school, she made an ugly face that made Fricz cackle.
“I bet she’s jealous,” said Nickel with a small grin. “I think she’d rather like to be a bat, don’t you?”
Anna flashed him an appreciative smile.
Madam Sauer was standing at the stove in the corner of the schoolhouse, adding peat to the fire when Serilda entered. Despite the approaching spring, the world remained cold, and the students had difficulty focusing on their mathematics lessons even when their toesweren’tnumb inside their shoes.
“Good morning,” Serilda chirped, hoping to start the conversation with brightness before it was tarnished by Madam Sauer’s perpetually rotten mood.
The schoolteacher cast her a surly look, her eye darting to the basket on Serilda’s elbow. “What is that?”
Serilda frowned. “Viper toenails,” she deadpanned. “Swallow three at sunrise and they will help enliven an ill temper. I thought I’d bring you the whole lot of them.”
She dropped the basket onto the teacher’s desk with a heavy thud.
Madam Sauer glared at her, her cheeks reddening at the insult.
Serilda sighed, feeling a small twinge of guilt. She might feel terrible about leaving the children to her tedious lessons and strict expectations, but that didn’t mean she had to spend her last days here trying to offend the witch. “I’m returning some books that I borrowed from the school,” she said, pulling out the tomes—mostly compendiums of folktales and myths and stories of distant lands. They had received little appreciation in the schoolhouse, and Serilda didn’t really want to give them back at all, but books were heavy and Zelig was old, and they didn’t really belong to her.
It was time to disavow Madam Sauer of her suspicions that she was a thief.
Madam Sauer eyed the books with narrowed eyes. “Those have been missing for years.”
She shrugged apologetically. “I hope you haven’t missed them too much? The fairy tales in particular didn’t seem to fit with the rest of your curriculum.”
With a scoff, Madam Sauer stepped forward and picked up the book she’d gotten from the librarian in Adalheid. “This one is not mine.”
“No,” said Serilda. “It was given to me recently, but I thought you might enjoy it more.”
“Did you steal it?”
Serilda’s jaw tightened. “No,” she said slowly. “Of course not. But if you don’t want it, I’ll happily take it back.”
Madam Sauer grunted and gently turned a few of the brittle pages. “Fine,” she finally spat, snapping the cover shut. “Put them on the shelf.”
As she returned to the fire, Serilda couldn’t resist copying Anna and making a face behind her back. Gathering up the books, she carried them to the small shelf.