Home > Wintersong(52)

Wintersong(52)
Author: S. Jae-Jones

“Me,” I said, a little more loudly. “Why me?”

“Why not you?” he returned. “Why not the girl who played her music for me in the Goblin Grove when she was a child?”

He had said so much, yet nothing I wanted to hear. That he desired me. That he had chosen me. That he … I wanted to hear the truth in his eyes said aloud. I could feel his gaze upon every part of my body: on my neck, where my shoulder disappeared into the torn sleeves of my blouse, the line of my collarbone as it led to my décolletage, the swell and ebb of my breasts as I breathed. I had waited for this my entire life, I realized. Not to be found beautiful—but desirable. Wanted. I wanted the Goblin King to claim me as his own.

“Why me?” I repeated. “Why Maria Elisabeth Ingeborg Vogler?”

I held his eyes with mine. He had his pride, but so had I. If I were to make good on the promise I made that little dancing boy in the wood all those years ago, I needed to hear validation from his own lips.

“Because,” he said. “Because I loved the music within you.”

I closed my eyes. His words were the spark to the tinder lining my blood; they touched my heart and warmth blazed from within, spreading through me like wildfire.

“A life for a life,” I said. “Does that mean … does that mean the sacrifice must die?”

“What does it mean to die?” the Goblin King asked. “What does it mean to live?”

“I told you I don’t find the philosopher charming.”

A laugh, a real, startled, human laugh. “There is,” he said, “no one like you, Elisabeth.”

“Answer my question.”

The Goblin King paused. “Yes. The sacrifice must die. She must leave the world of the living and enter the realm of Der Erlkönig, enter the Underground.” He lifted his eyes to mine, those mismatched eyes, so startling, so beautiful. “She will be dead to the world above.”

Dead to the world above. I thought of Papa, Mother, Constanze, Hans, and, with a painful twinge, Josef. In many ways, I was already dead.

“We have both lost,” I said.

He gave me a sharp glance. “What do you mean?”

“You win, I lose my sister. I win, I condemn the world above to eternal winter. Is that not the true outcome of our game, Mein Herr?”

He could not deny it.

“Then I propose we call a draw. Then we both get what we want. I, my sister’s freedom and you”—I swallowed—“will have me. Entire.”

He was silent for a long while. “Oh, Elisabeth,” he said. “Why?”

I looked at where Käthe lay, still senseless on the floor. “For my sister.” I pulled her into the circle of light. “For my brother.” I looked from Käthe to the hollow above us. “For my family. And the world above.”

The Goblin King moved closer, slowly and haltingly, as though in pain. “That is not enough, Elisabeth.”

“Is it not?” I asked with a dark laugh. “Is the world not enough? Could I condemn everyone to an eternal winter, spring and life never returning?”

He hovered on the edge of the circle of light. I could see the figure of his body outlined in silver and black, and the slim shape of his hand just beyond the circle’s edge.

“Always thinking of others,” the Goblin King murmured. “But that’s still not enough. Don’t you ever make any wishes for yourself, Elisabeth?”

What would be enough? He had an answer he wanted to hear, but I withheld it. Games and more games. We would always be dancing with each other, the Goblin King and I.

“All right, then,” I said. “For love.”

It was a while before he spoke. “For love?” His voice was rough.

“Yes,” I said. “After all, we all make sacrifices for love.” I leaned over and kissed my sister on the forehead. “We make them every day.” I lifted my eyes to where his shadow stood beyond the edge of light. The two-toned eyes gleamed at me and while I could not see the rest of his face, the hopefulness in them moved me. “You called me selfless,” I said. “So I claim selfishness. Because for once, I want to love myself best, instead of last.”

He said nothing. He was silent so long I feared I had made a mistake, but then he opened his mouth to speak.

“Think well on this, Elisabeth.” There was a fervor in his voice I could not quite discern. “Your choice, once made, cannot be unmade. I am not so generous as to offer you your freedom again.”

I hesitated. I could fight him. I could force his hand, make him bring Käthe and me back to the world above. I’d defeated him before and I could do it again.

But I was too tired to fight. Moreover, I did not want to fight. I wanted to surrender, because surrender was the greater part of courage.

“I offer myself to you.” I swallowed hard. “Free and of my own will.”

“For yourself?”

“Yes,” I said. “For myself.”

The longest pause of all. “All right.” His words were scarcely audible in the large cavern. “I accept your sacrifice.” By my feet, Käthe began to murmur and moan. “I shall bring your sister to the world above and then”—his breath caught—“will you consent to be my queen?”

I turned my face away.

“Elisabeth.” The way the Goblin King said my name made my heart flutter. “Will you marry me?”

   
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