Wintersong(32)

As we grew accustomed to each other, the musicians and I began to improvise, taking the sounds and turning them inside out, upside down. A game. Music was just a game. Somehow, I had forgotten.

A seed began to unfurl deep within me. Long ago, I had planted my music in the dark places of my soul, away from the light. There was Josef, the gardener of my heart, but not even his gentle encouragement had been enough to coax that little seed into life. I could not let it grow. Not in the world I lived in. Not in the world above. That world needed Liesl, dutiful daughter and protective sister. To let that seed bloom would encourage a weed to grow, choking out the other lives that needed my care.

But now I was free. The music inside grew into a weed, a wildflower, a meadow, a forest. I spread my roots out, feeling the rush in my limbs. My breathing was erratic, my bowing languid.

A bright laugh shattered my concentration. My bow stuttered and stumbled over the string. At once everyone paused, heads turning one by one toward the ballroom entrance. There, atop the great staircase that seemed both carved and grown at once, stood the Goblin King.

With my sister K?the on his arm.





EYES OPEN

“Liesl!”

My sister found me straightaway. If we had been in the world above, I would have marveled at how quickly she discovered me in this sea of faces. But in the Underground, I understood. I was mortal, and so was she, and here among the goblins, our lives pulsed with intensity. I had sensed K?the before I saw her.

But even without the telltale beat of our hearts that marked us human, I would have sensed my sister’s presence. Her beauty was polished like a gem, every facet of her sparkling appearance enhanced by the dress she wore, and the aura of glamour about her. Unlike the rest of the ballgoers, dressed in earthen shades and jewel tones, my sister was in summery pastels. She wore a sky-blue gown that shimmered with gold where the light hit it, and her own sunshine curls were piled high atop her head, dressed with pale pink roses and other spring flowers. Her face was powdered and rouged, and she looked like a painting, a portrait, a porcelain china doll.

K?the had come in on the Goblin King’s arm, but she dropped it at the sight of me. She ran down the steps, parting a path between the sea of identical K?the faces, holding out her arms to embrace me. In her hand she carried a mask fashioned into the shape of a goblin’s face.

“Liesl, my darling!” My sister wrapped her arms about my waist.

“K?the!” I hugged her tightly, feeling the thud of her heart against mine.

“I was so afraid you wouldn’t come,” she said.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Tears clotted my throat. “I’m sorry I took so long. But I’m here now, my dear, never fear.”

“Wonderful!” K?the exclaimed, clapping her hands together in delight. “Now we must dance.”

“What?” I drew back to give her a proper look. “No, no. We must leave. We must go home.”

She screwed up her face in a childish pout. “Don’t be such a spoilsport, Liesl.”

Beneath the maquillage, K?the’s complexion was wan and pale. No amount of powder could disguise the bruised hollows beneath her eyes, no amount of rouge distract from the bloodlessness of her lips. Only her eyes were bright and brilliant: the shine of fever. Or enchantment.

I believed I had abandoned my sister to the goblins’ untender mercies. I had imagined her in torment or agony, crying out for the world above. I had thought I would find her, and we would run back home, back to the inn, back to safety.

My gaze met the Goblin King’s over my sister’s head. He leaned against the entrance, his arms crossed, his smile mocking. Even from where I stood, I saw the tips of his pointed teeth gleaming in the fairy lights.

Did you think I would make it so easy? his smile seemed to say.

I had won the second round. I had made my way to the Underground. This was the third and final round of our game: getting K?the back to the world above.

Well, I thought. I would drag my sister back to life, even if I had to drag her out by her hair. The Goblin King had his tricks, but I had my stubbornness. We would see who prevailed in the end.

“All right, then,” I said to K?the. “Let’s dance.”

On cue, the goblin musicians struck up a tune. The violinist took back his instrument with a sour expression. The musicians played another old air from my childhood, a fast-paced Zweifacher. Even K?the stirred when she heard it, and I smiled at her.

“Just like when we were little,” I said. “Come!”

K?the fitted her goblin mask over her face, and we clasped our arms together. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two, one-two, our bodies followed the turns and pivots in the music. The other ballgoers took up the Zweifacher, and soon the entire cavern was filled with twirling, whirling dancers.

My sister and I laughed as we stumbled over each other’s feet and collided into other dancing pairs, out of breath and giddy. As we turned about the dance floor, I tried my best to maneuver K?the toward the exit. My eyes kept darting to where the Goblin King was standing. He alone did not join the throng, apart and untouchable.

“Do you remember,” I said, breathing hard, “when you, me, Sepperl, and Hans used to dance the Zweifacher while Papa played his fiddle?”

“Hmmm?” K?the seemed distracted, her eyes wandering over to the tables laden with food. “What did you say?”