The Autumn Castle (55 page)

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“So am I.” All her hope deflated in her chest.

“Mayfridh,” he said gently, reaching for his clothes, “you didn’t come back here just for me, did you?”

She took a deep breath and shook her head. “No, no. I have to find Hexebart.”

“Gerda needs you to remove the spell that Hexebart put on her.”

“Of course, I . . . oh no.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Spells! I didn’t bring a single one with me. Christine still has them.” How could she have left Ewigkreis without spells?
Too many of her thoughts had been spent on fantasies of Jude.

“So you can’t fix Gerda?”

Mayfridh shook her head. “Only after I find Hexebart.”

“We’ve searched for her all around the hotel. I don’t want her to run into Christine. I don’t want her telling about . . .
you know.”

Mayfridh felt a flush of impatience. He was so selfish, so preoccupied with himself and his stupid deception. “I’ll find her.
Where has she been so far?”

“I saw her in the park at the end of the street when she came to tease me about knowing my secret,” Jude said, “and Gerda
saw her in her apartment. And she stayed in Mandy’s flat one or two nights.”

“So she’s been making mischief with my friends.”

“Yeah, so she’s probably still nearby.”

Mayfridh tried to follow the twisted paths of Hexebart’s logic. “Because she’s taking out her hatred of me through hurting
you and Gerda—”

“And Christine as soon as she finds her.”

Mayfridh’s heart went cold. “Ohh,” she said, “I think I know where she is.”

Christine woke from the welcome oblivion of sleep to find that she still lay among the rough bedcovers at Klarlied’s cottage,
and that her left hand was still missing. She groaned involuntarily and rolled over. Eisengrimm was watching her.

“Eisengrimm.” She swept her hair out of her eyes. “You’re awake.”

“I have been for an hour.” His golden eyes were deep with mea-sureless compassion, his mellow voice warm and gentle. “Christine,
what happened to you?”

She held up her wrist. “Immanuel Zweigler happened to me. Mayfridh enchanted my hands so I could magically banish him. He
took one as a souvenir.”

He shook his gray head. “You have suffered too much.”

“So have you.”

“I’m her counselor. I’m employed to suffer for her.”

Christine sighed. “I let her go back to the Real World. Alone.”

“You were wise to stay and heal.”

“You don’t understand. I’ve left her alone with Jude. Jude’s in love with her.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah. Pretty certain.” She sat up and gazed across at him. “But she’ll be gone soon enough. And Jude and I will get on with
our lives and . . .” A sob broke through her words. “Oh, God, who am I kidding? I’m in pain every day. I only have one hand.
I’ll be such a burden to him.”

“If he loves you, you won’t be a burden.”

“He doesn’t love me the way he loves her. How could he? She’s so beautiful and rare. I’m so . . . I’m interchangeable with
anyone.”

“Christine, that isn’t true.”

“You’re in love with her too. You know the power she has.”

“Then why did you let her go alone?”

She shrugged. “Because there are some things you can’t fight. Because maybe he deserves the thrill of a grand passion before
he settles down with me. I don’t know.”

The hessian curtain at the doorway parted and Klarlied peeked in. “Ah, Counselor Eisengrimm. I thought I heard your voice.
How do you feel?”

“Very sore, but lucid.”

“Thorsten and Brathr wait for you in the kitchen. They are eager to speak with you.”

Eisengrimm glanced at Christine. “The mayor and the reeve,” he explained.

“Shall I send them in?” Klarlied asked.

“You should rest some more before you take on official business,” Christine said.

“I can’t. Winter is very close and matters are very serious.” He turned to Klarlied. “Send them in.”

Christine stretched and got out of bed. “I’ll leave you alone with them.”

“Thank you, Christine.” He looked so vulnerable lying curled on the bed, bandages around his ribs; a hurt dog rather than
a queen’s counselor.

Christine slipped out as two men strode in. She hoped they would be kind to Eisengrimm. It wasn’t his fault his queen was
so flighty.

Klarlied stopped her, with a smile, in the kitchen. “Would you like some soup?”

“No, I’m going to get some fresh air.” She felt in her pocket for the remaining spells. She had deliberately withheld them
from Mayfridh, and felt a twinge of guilt over that. For some reason, when Mayfridh was leaving, Christine’s desire to own
the spells was greater than her concern for Mayfridh’s needs. Perhaps it was simple jealousy, or simple curiosity. Or perhaps
there was nothing simple at all about her feelings for Mayfridh.

Christine found herself in Klarlied’s neat square of garden. Hedges were over-spun with spiderwebs that glistened in the morning
sunshine, wafting to and fro on the breeze. Christine shivered against the cool, but relished the fresh air. She had been
cooped up too long in the cluttered, stuffy cottage. Klarlied’s home stood at the end of a dirt road. Wheat fields spread
out behind it, stubbled and golden. The slanted sunshine dazzled on the fields. Christine pulled a spell from her pocket.
As far as she knew, her remaining hand was still enchanted. She had no idea what magic she wanted to perform—given that
turn back time to before Mandy took my hand
was not an option. She gazed at the spell and a cloud moved over the sun.

“Butterfly,”
she said, and blew. The spell disappeared and an indigo butterfly flew from her fingers and up into the sky. She laughed.
What a curious pleasure it was to make magic happen, like a shiver and a held breath and a liquid tingle. She took another
spell and held it out.
“Birdsong.”
As she blew, the spell dissolved and the air around her was filled with the sweet strange song of a bird she didn’t recognize.
It swelled and withdrew, leaving her standing, smiling for the first time in many long hours, in Klarlied’s garden.

She checked her pocket. Only four left now. She had best be prudent and save them, give them to Mayfridh when she got back
to the Real World.

Voices from nearby. She turned to see the two men—the mayor and the reeve—leaving the cottage, muttering to each other in
serious voices. She hurried inside to find Eisengrimm sitting up on his bed. His eyes were thoughtful.

“Is everything all right?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “No. Not at all.” His shoulders were hunched forward and his fur was dull.

“Lie down,” Christine said. “You look sick and sore.”

“I am sick and sore.” He did as she directed and closed his eyes.

“Tell me what happened,” she said, curling up next to him and gently stroking his ears.

“The officials in the village, and most of the villagers it seems, are unhappy. Very unhappy. Hexebart has disappeared with
the royal magic, six faeries have been murdered, winter is coming, and their queen is nowhere in sight.”

“Did you explain she’s gone to find Hexebart?”

“Yes, but she made no official announcement, took no guards or helpers. It looks suspicious. It looks like she’s run away.”

A brisk wind gusted overhead, moaning softly over the eaves.

“What will they do?” Christine asked.

“They have already done it. They have officially expressed their lack of confidence in the queen. When she returns, she will
have to prove herself fit to rule, and she will have to name an heir.”

“Name an heir?”

“They ask it of rulers whose competence is in doubt. She can name anyone she wants, and the villagers vote on whether to agree
to it. That’s how Liesebet made Mayfridh her heir, even though she was a human changeling.”

“Would she name you?”

“She has tried in the past. I won’t let her.”

“No?”

“I have no desire to be a king.”

She smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. “You’d make a fine king.”

“She could also prove her intention to produce an heir.”

Christine was confused. “How so?”

“She could marry. Then it would be assumed a child would result.”

Christine opened her mouth to ask, “Who would she marry?” but no sound came out because she knew precisely who Mayfridh would
make her first choice.

“Christine?”

“She can’t take him away from me, can she?” she breathed.

Eisengrimm fixed her in his golden gaze. “I don’t know, Christine. Can she?”

Mayfridh thrust money into the taxi driver’s hands as they pulled up outside Diana’s house at Zehlendorf.

“Here, keep the change,” she muttered, hurrying to open the door, and emerging onto the quiet street. The last of the sun’s
rays had disappeared, leaving only the cold gray shadows of twilight. The front of the house was dark and silent. She hoped
that she was wrong, that Hexebart hadn’t discovered Diana and come to make the same kind of mischief she’d made at Hotel Mandy-Z.
She hurried up the front path, stopping when a flash of gold caught her eye.

In the long grass lay a spell. She bent to pick it up. Hexebart had been here and left in a hurry, dropping this behind her.
Mayfridh stood and checked the tree branches nearby. She couldn’t see the witch anywhere. She tucked the spell inside her
blouse and tried the front door. Unlocked.

“Mum?” she called, entering the dark hallway. She turned on the light. The house looked dusty and shabby, and the smell of
old cooking filled the air.

“Mum?” Mayfridh advanced into the house. The lounge room was empty. The kitchen was a chaotic mess of dirty plates and pans;
the fridge door gaped open; spilt butter and water lay on the floor. She kicked the fridge door closed and was heading for
the hallway when she heard a tiny mewing.

Since when did her mother own a kitten? She turned and cocked her head, trying to locate the sound.

Mew, mew.

It was coming from the cupboard under the sink. Mayfridh approached warily. This could be one of Hexebart’s tricks.

Mew, mew.

She reached for the cupboard door, pulling the spell from her blouse and holding it defensively in her right hand. With a
quick movement, she flicked the door open and stood back.

No kitten. No witch. Her mother.

“Mum!”

Mew, mew.

Hexebart had enchanted her. Mayfridh’s relief that it was only a little spell was quickly replaced by alarm. Diana’s feet
were bandaged.

“What happened?”

Mew, mew.
Tears ran down Diana’s face and she reached out with desperate hands for Mayfridh.

Mayfridh helped her out of the cupboard and struggled with her to the lounge room, where Diana gratefully sank into the sofa.
Mayfridh balanced the spell on her palm, turned it to Diana, and said,
“Speak.”

“Oh, Mayfridh, I knew you’d come to save me.”

“What happened?”

“The witch. She took some of my toes.”

Mayfridh slid onto the sofa next to Diana and gently unwrapped the bandages on her mother’s right foot. Hexebart had taken
two toes. Mayfridh eyed the other foot and shuddered, imagining the pain. Hexebart had done it cleanly, dressed and bandaged
it properly; protecting her prey for more enjoyment later. Not like the horrifically crude wound Mandy had inflicted on Christine.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, buckling again under guilt. It seemed she was the only person who was unscathed.

“She’s gone, though,” Diana said. “I heard her leave just before you got here.”

“She probably heard me arrive.”

“Will she come back?”

Mayfridh looked up into the face of a terrified child. “I don’t know, Mum. I hope not. I have to find her and take her back
to Ewigkreis.”

“You have to go?”

“I have to do what’s right for my kingdom before winter comes.”

“Please don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t, I won’t,” Mayfridh soothed.

“You will. You’ll go off to find the witch and then I’ll be alone.” Diana began to cry, pressing her hands into her face.