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Leyna settled her chin into her palms and waited for the door to shut to say, “Mama, I thought you didn’t like poetry.”
Lorraine stiffened. “That’s not true! I have many varied interests, daughter of mine.”
“Mm-hmm. Like … the history of ancient agriculture?”
With a glower, Lorraine picked up one of the cakes. “It was fascinating. And it doesn’t hurt to read something other than fairy tales once in a while.”
Leyna snorted. “It was four hundred pages long and you fell asleep every time you picked it up.”
“That is not true.”
“You know,” said Leyna, drawing out the words, “you could just invite her over for evening bread. She’s complimented your sauerkraut about a thousand times, and no one likes sauerkrautthatmuch.”
“Now, don’t you get smart,” said Lorraine. “Frieda is a friend, and the library provides a great service to this town.”
Leyna shrugged. “I’m only saying, if you were to marry her, you’d eventually have to find something to talk about other than the latest shipment of library books.”
“Marry!” said Lorraine. “Why—nonsense with sauce. Whatever makes you think … silly …” She let out a flustered huff, then turned and carried the cakes to the kitchen.
The man by the fireplace, the former mayor, clicked his tongue. “Funny how it can be so obvious to everyone else, innit?” He glanced up from his pint and sent a mischievous wink at Leyna, who laughed.
“They’re hopeless, aren’t they?”
The man shook his head. “Wouldn’t say that. Some things just take time.”
“I hope you don’t mind my asking,” Serilda said, “but … didn’t you mention a father?”
Leyna nodded. “He died of consumption when I was four. I don’t remember him much. Mama says he’ll always be the first great love of her life, but the way she and Frieda have been flirting with each other the last few months, it’s got me thinking it might be time for the second great love.” She hesitated, becoming suddenly bashful. “Is that strange?”
“No,” said Serilda. “I think it’s very mature. My father is alone, too. I don’t think he’s found anyone yet to be that second love, but it would make me happy if he did.”
“Your mother died?”
Serilda opened her mouth, but hesitated. Instead of an answer to the question, what came out was “I still owe you a story for the marvelous breakfast.” They both looked down at her plate. Somehow, over the course of the librarian’s visit, the food had magically disappeared.
Leyna sat up straighter, fidgeting excitedly in her seat. “Best be quick. Roland can be impatient.”
“This is not a long tale. You see, my mother left when I was barely two years old.” That part was true, or at least, it was what her father had told her. But he never gave many details, and Serilda—holding together the fragile heart of a little girl whose mother had not loved her enough to stay—never asked for them. Over the years, she had made up all sorts of tales to soften the blow of that truth.
Her mother was a moss maiden, who could not survive outside the woods for long, and though it pained her to leave her only child, she’d been forced to return to the wild.
Or her mother was a princess from a distant land, and she had to go back to assume responsibility for her kingdom, but she never wanted to subject her family to that life of politics and court drama.
Her mother was a military general, off fighting a distant war.
Her mother was the mistress of the god of death, and had been taken back to Verloren.
Her mother had loved her. She never would have left if she’d had a choice.
“In fact,” Serilda said, her mind spinning a new tale, “that’s why I really came here. For revenge.”
Leyna’s eyebrows shot upward.
“My mother was taken by the Erlking. Lured away by the wild hunt, all those years ago. I came here to face him. To find out whether she was left for dead somewhere or kept as a ghost in his retinue.” She paused, before adding, “I came here to kill him.”
Serilda didn’t really mean it, yet as the words left her, a chill slipped down her spine. She reached for her cider, but like her plate, the mug was empty.
Leyna eyed her like she was seated across from the great huntress herself. “How does one kill the Erlking?”
