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“How thoughtless of me,” said the Erlking, startling her from her thoughts. He paced around the table until he was standing beside her chair, then dropped to one knee beside her. “To be pining for another when my bride sits before me. I hope you can forgive me, my love.”
He's such a loser i love him
“Behold,” said the Erlking, “this small mortal has chosen to meet us on this solstice night in order to deliver a special gift to none other than my new wife.”
The king snorted. “I find your affection for these human parasites to be most disconcerting.”
“What an odd little treasure you are, my queen,” he said, holding a hand out to her. “Come. Let us bid the court good night and retire to our bridal suite.” She snarled. “I would rather retire to a pit of worms.” He laughed, frustratingly jovial. “Do not tempt me, love.”
“I had no intention of carrying you all the way. You needn’t have struck me.” “Believe it or not, it was the highlight of my evening.” “Oh, I do believe it,” he said, his eyes flashing. But—not with fury. If anything, he seemed amused.
She was exhausted, too. Tired of smiling. Tired of the king’s ice-cold fingers trailing along her throat or her scarred wrist whenever they had an audience. Tired of lying, lying, always lying.
“Hardworking Stiltskin and the Northern Prince.”
Stiltskin? Seriously?
“The legendary chicken-snake,” Gild said, without humor.
The matter of her husband being a murderous bastard?
She shot him a simpering smile. “Tell me. What delicacies would you prefer? Puddings crafted from the blood of your victims? Cakes sprinkled with the milk teeth and finger bones of lost children?” His eyes glinted. “Don’t be grotesque, my sweet. I only eat the teeth of the elderly, once they’ve gone a little rotten. They’re softer, not so difficult to chew.” He pinched his fingers together in imitation of chewing, and Serilda gaped. That was a joke. Right?
“Have I been unkind to you, miller’s daughter?” She stilled. It took a long moment for her to believe he meant the question in truth. “You murdered five children from my village. Your ravens ate out their hearts. All because I wouldn’t give you what you wanted.”
“I’m not fretful,” she said with a growl. “I just find it unspeakably annoying how everything you say comes with more layers than an onion.”
I’ve seen the way that small one styles your hair, and if I am being frank”—he fixed her with a meaningful look—“it is difficult for me to tolerate.” Serilda scowled. “I do my own hair.” He blinked. “In that case, I wish you wouldn’t.
The Erlking grinned smugly. “Nonsense with sauce,”
The phrase "nonsense with sauce" is used three times in this book. Serilda says it twice. It is reprised by the Erlking himself in the third and final time it appears. He both seems to mock her by using it, but he is also copying mannerisms from her, which tends to happen when one spends an inordinate amount of time with another person, and the latter being constantly in the former's thoughts.
“I had almost forgotten,” he said, though his tone suggested he had not forgotten anything.
Pulling away from Gild, Serilda thundered closer to the king. “A word with you,” she growled, before storming off down the corridor. The Erlking sauntered after her. “I am not in the habit of bowing to the demands of mortals.” She spun back to face him. “Yet follow you did,” she snapped. His eyes flashed,
Absolute girlboss go off
the Erlking reached for the clasp at Serilda’s throat. As soon as it was undone, she gasped and stepped away, holding the velvet cloak over one arm while she grasped at the fabric of her old, beloved riding cloak with her other hand. “You will not be needing that any longer,” said the Erlking. “My queen need not wear something so tattered and worn.” She swallowed and looked down at the gray wool. Her father had bought it for her in Mondbrück years ago, and it had been a constant companion. Warm enough in the winter, while still comfortable for much of the fall and spring. Yes, it was tattered.
...more
This rat bastard really said "relinquish all ties to your former life and stay with me, your next birthday will be better (persumably after the baby is born and Perchta is back, meaning stay with me even after i supposedly have no use for you anymore)" and i was never okay again
And yes, it smelled a bit like Zelig, her old horse, who she hoped was now living a peaceful life on the pastures near Adalheid.
My boy Zelig got his fucking break
Verloren.
*whispering* superhell
Perchta, the great huntress, stepped through the gates.
Oh shit waduup
Perchta flashed her a knowing, cruel look that made the hair stand on the back of Serilda’s neck. “Pathetic.”
Oh my god Perchta is a basic bitch. "Jelous. Of you?" my ass
Perchta sauntered to the coffin and peered down at Serilda’s figure. She trailed a finger up the body’s shin and thigh, then slowly, slowly, over the protruding stomach. Though Serilda could feel nothing, she shivered, imagining the intimacy of the touch.
There is nothing heterosexual about this
Serilda let out an annoyed huff, which went ignored by everyone.
bbygirl im sorry you dont deserve this
“I asked you once what you would sacrifice to see these children freed. It is time, miller’s daughter, for you to make that choice.”
Oh shit for reals
“You know the worst of it?” Gild said glumly. “I ran out of that dungeon so fast, I completely forgot about my spoons.” He sighed. “I worked really hard for those spoons.”
I will relish the chance to return Erlkönig’s favor and put an arrow into his flesh this time.”
YES PLEASE. Though Serilda should be given the honor of it
Her fingers landed on a slender beeswax candle. She felt around some more, eventually finding a carved stone candlestick and—finally—flint and steel.
How convinient
Scholarly works on history appeared beside fables and fairy tales.
This is just Marissa Meyer's research for her retellings
There’s always a price.” She frowned. “Do you gods realize that your gifts often end up causing so much trouble?” “Yes,” mused Wyrdith. “Though we generally mean well.”
the god before her—was her mother.
Wyrdith is her MOM!???! THE MILLER FUCKED A GOD???? Wyrdith heard "a healthy child" and took it personaly
A mist of tears gathered in Serilda’s eyes. Then, without warning, a great, wrenching sob. She slid down the bookcase and buried her face into her knees.
My girl deserves to cry a little. As a treat
“And you’re gods. I’m just me. A miller’s daughter.” Wyrdith hummed. “You’re my daughter, too.” The words sent a chill racing along Serilda’s spine.
“If it isn’t my mortal bride,” he mused, grinning wolfishly. “I heard rumors you were still about, ever causing trouble.” He strolled into the cavern, as if he’d been invited in for a pint of ale. “Your spirit was untethered. How are you still here?” Serilda felt the press of the broken arrow, the shaft of ash, against her sternum. “Vengeance,” she spat. “I will not rest so long as that demon huntress of yours carries my child.”
He met Serilda’s gaze, pinning her in place with his icy stare. “Do you know what becomes of wandering spirits when they cannot find their way to Verloren?” Serilda glowered at him, searching for the threat in his words. “I plan to haunt you until the end of time.” He smirked, then leaned closer. “They become monsters.” He reached for her, running one cold knuckle along her cheek. “Whatever is keeping you here, dearest Serilda, I suggest you let it go, before it is too late.”
I DONT GET IT!!!!!!!!
She shuddered, hatred pooling inside her. She wanted to scream at him. To wrap her hands around his neck and squeeze. To stab him with his own stupid arrows. To gouge out those hideously beautiful eyes of his. She wanted to hurt him.
YES
Two figures stood on the plateau above her, glowing golden beneath the rising sun. Each with tall, foxlike ears and small, fuzzy antlers and black doelike eyes. Serilda squinted. “Parsley? Meadowsweet?”
Deus ex machina????
“I trust we do not need to remind you of your role in all this,”
nooooo please you can tell me haha
“Somehow, I am not surprised,” he said. “Always so stubborn, miller’s daughter.” “I have unfinished business,” said Serilda. She pointed at Perchta. “That child belongs to me.” Perchta laughed. “What a brave little spirit. I can almost see what you liked about her.” “She does have her charms,” muttered the Erlking.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
