Wintersong (Wintersong #1)(21)

I nodded again.

“Oh, Elisabeth,” he said. “You foolish, foolish girl. How easily you give me your trust.”

“I play the hand I am dealt.”

“Yes, and by my rules.” The tips of his teeth glinted. “Beware, Elisabeth. You may prefer the pretty lie to the ugly truth.”

“I am not afraid of ugliness.”

He watched me and I steeled myself against his scrutiny. “No,” he said softly. “You’re not.” He straightened his shoulders. “Until the next full moon.” He pointed to the moon in the sky, and for a moment, I thought I saw the hands of a clock pass over its face. “Or your sister is lost forever.”

“The next full moon,” I repeated.

The Goblin King moved closer. His hand cupped my chin, and I raised my eyes to his multicolored gaze. “I shall enjoy playing with you,” he said in a low voice. He bent down, and the touch of his breath against my lips was cold.

Viel Glück, Elisabeth.

Then he was gone.

*

“Liesl!”

The voice was muffled, as though heard through ice or water.

“Liesl! Liesl!”

I tried to open my eyes, but they were frozen shut. After a few moments, I managed to crack one open, and through the ice and tangled lashes, I could see a blurred shape running toward me.

“Hans?” I croaked.

“You’re alive!” He pressed his hand to my cheek, but I felt nothing: no warmth, no sensation of touch, nothing but light pressure. “By God, Liesl, what happened to you?”

I could not answer. Even if I could, I did not want to answer. Hans scooped me up in his arms and carried me back to the inn.

I felt nothing but cold, nothing of life, of warmth, or of Hans’s arms around my legs, beneath my back, his hands curled around my chest. It was as though I were dead. I might as well be dead. I had sacrificed my sister for my brother. Again. I deserved to die.

K?the, I said. But Hans did not hear me.

“We must get you inside and warm immediately,” he said. “God, Liesl, what were you thinking? Your mother and Josef have been frantic with worry; Josef even threatened he would not join with Master Antonius until you were found.”

K?the, I tried again.

“Your father was beside himself; I thought he had gone mad! I never want to see him that drunk again.”

How long had I been gone? It couldn’t have been more than an hour—two at most—that I had spent in the grove with the Goblin King.

“How—how long—” My throat was hoarse, my voice creaky with disuse.

“Three days.” The calmness of Hans’s tone did not disguise the very real fear and panic in his voice. “You were gone for three days. Josef’s audition with Master Antonius was three days ago.”

Three days? How could that be possible? Hans must be exaggerating.

No tricks. No cheating. No taking away my memories. No playing with time. The Goblin King had broken his promises already.

But he had not made me any. I shall promise you one thing, and one thing only. Your eyes will remain open. My eyes were open. I remembered it all.

“K?the,” I said again, but Hans shushed me with a finger against my lips.

“No talking now, Liesl. I’m here. I shall take care of you,” he said. “I shall take care of all of you, never you fear.”

*

Back at the inn, everyone was in a tizzy. Mother embraced me and wept, an untoward display of emotion. The age-old tracks of beery tears stained the grooves in Papa’s cheeks, and Josef, dear Sepperl, said nothing and clenched my hand with white-knuckled ferocity. Only Constanze stood apart, her dark eyes boring into mine.

My sister was gone.

I was responsible.

Mother coddled and fussed over me as though I were a babe, wrapping me in woolen blankets, demanding that Papa place me in his favorite chair by the hearth, bringing me soup and even tea with just a dash of rum.

“Oh, Liesl!” she said tearfully. “Oh, Liesl!”

Her intense outpouring of affection discomfited me. Mother and I had never been particularly close; we were each too preoccupied with holding our lives together—Mother the business, me the family. I found it hard to express my love for my mother; we shared an understanding, but we did not share hugs.

Seeing my discomfort, Mother wiped at her eyes and nodded. “It’s good to see you safe, Liesl.” She was once again practical, no-nonsense Frau Vogler, innkeeper’s wife. All hints and signs of her previous breakdown had vanished, save for her reddened eyes.

“Mother was worried you had run away from home,” Josef whispered.

I was incredulous. “Why would I run away from home?”

Josef gave a sidelong glance to Papa, who was hunched in the corner. He looked years older, suddenly haggard and worn and sad. He had always been blithe and gay, a shambling semblance of the bright, vivacious, promising young man he had been. His cheeks, reddened by years of drink, lent him a childish air, and his convivial nature disguised his graver shortcomings to all but those who knew him best.

“Because … because you had nothing left to live for,” Josef said.

“What?” I struggled to sit up, but the myriad of blankets draped around me trapped me in a cocoon of knitted wool. “Don’t be ridiculous, Sepperl.”