Wintersong (Wintersong #1)(51)

“Give up, Elisabeth.” The Goblin King’s face was reflected in the smooth surface of the ice, but when I turned, there was no one behind me. “Let go.”

But I would not. I searched for something—anything—I could use to smash the ice between my sister and me. But there was nothing. No stone, no branch, no twig.

Then I remembered the goblin-made flute. I had thrust the instrument through the waist of my skirt once we passed from corridors to tunnels in the Underground, when I was no longer able to play it for crawling about on my hands and knees. My hands fumbled for the flute, untying the strings that held my apron, skirt, and modesty together. I did not care. I tore at my clothes and freed the instrument.

A flicker of uncertainty crossed the Goblin King’s eyes, still reflected in the ice beneath me. “Don’t, Elisabeth—”

But I never heard what he was about to say. I raised the flute above my head with both hands. The wind caught in its myriad keys and stops, playing a sweet whistling melody, drowning out all other sounds.

Then I brought the flute down like an ax with all my strength.





RESURRECTION




I opened my eyes to a bright light. I flinched and lifted a hand to shade them, but could make out nothing. It was bitterly cold, but the air was crisp and fresh and carried with it the scent of openness.

“I’m impressed.”

I squinted into the shadows. I could just make out the lanky, willowy form of the Goblin King in the darkness, but it was his eyes that caught the light and gleamed like a wolf’s.

“Against all odds, you’ve managed to break me, Elisabeth.”

My laugh was as rough as the gravel beneath my hands. As my eyes adjusted, I saw that the Goblin King and I were slumped against the ground, like two soldiers fallen in battle. We lay in an earthen chamber, illuminated by a bright light overhead.

The full moon.

I sat up, wincing as my body—cold-stiffened and battered—gave a mighty protest. “K?the,” I croaked.

The Goblin King rose and nodded his head. “Yonder.”

A small, rumpled form lay on the ground a few feet away from me. I tried to stand, but the world spun beneath me, and I collapsed. I brought myself to my hands and knees and crawled to my sister’s side.

K?the was unconscious, but her breath misted lightly into the chilly air around us, the pulse of her heart faint but steady. I glanced at the Goblin King.

“She’s alive,” he said. “And well. Well, maybe a little worse for wear. But she is unharmed, and will come to no harm, once she wakes up in the world above.”

I stroked K?the’s brow. Her skin was cool, but beneath my touch, her flesh felt like living, breathing skin.

“Is this it, then?” I asked. “Have I won?”

He was quiet, quiet so long I feared he would never speak again. “Yes,” he said. There was more than fatigue in his voice; there was defeat. “You win, Elisabeth.”

Somehow the declaration did not bring the sense of victory or triumph I expected. My body was bruised and bloodied, and I was tired, so tired. “Oh,” was all I said.

“Oh?” Though I couldn’t see his face clearly in the shadows, I knew his eyebrow was raised. “You who faced me in all my power, you who rent the fabric of my world asunder, you who broke the old laws—all you can say is oh?”

Of all things, this brought a smile to my face. “May I go, then?”

“You don’t need my permission, Elisabeth.” His voice was soft. “You’ve never needed my permission for anything.”

I turned my head away. “How could I possibly trust that, after everything you’ve done to me?”

There was a long silence, before a small, jagged voice returned to me. “I’ve done terrible things, yes,” he said. “And you’ve borne the brunt of it. Yes, you were right not to trust me.” The space between us, empty of words, was nevertheless filled with past regrets and painful memories. “I was your friend, once,” he said. “I had your trust, once. But I’ve squandered that horribly, haven’t I?”

“Yes.” I saw no reason to lie. But even as I told him the truth, a part of my heart protested the pain, both his and mine. I slumped over, my head against my sister’s shoulder. Our bodies rose and fell together.

“There.” The Goblin King pointed. “That is your avenue of escape.”

Moonlight streamed in from an opening above our heads, moonlight and starlight and the cold winter air.

“You are so very near to the end, you need only take the merest step to find your freedom.”

The merest step. Twenty feet above our heads, a way out into the world above. No great distance after what I had been through. But I was spent, wrung of every last drop of determination and resolve.

“Well,” said the Goblin King, a hint of impatience in his voice. “What are you waiting for? Leave me here, and go. Go back to your family, your mother and father and inimitable grandmother. Go back with your sister, go back to your brother, go back to that insufferable, stolid lover of yours and be happy.”

Mother. Papa. Constanze. Hans. Somehow, sitting here with the Goblin King was preferable to facing the world above. After all, what world would I be returning to? I thought of that false reality that had so nearly seduced me, a world where I was not Liesl the innkeeper’s drudge, Liesl the discarded sister, Liesl the lesser. That was not the world waiting for me.