Page 29 of Heart of Snow
When her eyes met mine, she didn’t look away. The little smile she wore for Wilhelm’s story shifted, smoothing into something more serious, something that sped the blood in my veins. Our locked gazes intertwined, each passing second twisting another strand around the invisible cord that pulled me to her. A strange headiness overtook me.
“Friedrich.” At Wilhelm’s call, the cord snapped, and I startled to attention. “Who do ya think Margaretha would be?”
I bent my head toward my shoes, rubbing a subtle hand over my cheek. It was hot. “You speak in riddles, Wilhelm.”
“In the pagan legends. Heinrich says Margaretha’d be Hariasa, but I’m certain she’d be Ilmr. What d’ya think?”
It took no time at all for me to reach an answer, but my ears burned just thinking about it. Making the comparison would be too bold.
“That’s enough of this game,” I said, but Ernst spoke up beside me.
“She is beautiful.” His voice was worn and scratchy, but he answered with the same confidence a man would use ifcommenting on the color of the sky. “A beautiful maiden with milk-white skin. She’d be Holda.”
“Doesn’t that goddess have a swan’s foot?” Emil asked. “Check her feet!”
I started to protest, but Margaretha stood and slid off her cow-mouth shoes, flattening her skirts against her stockings.
“No swan’s feet,” she said. “I suppose I can’t be Holda.”
“But ya clearly cavort with witches,” Daniel spoke from his bubbling kettle by the fire.
Margaretha’s smile turned stiff, and she pressed a thumb to the scab of her palm. It was a strange response. Did she worry I’d told him about Walpurgisnacht?
“What makes you say that?” Her voice wavered.
“Ya’ve cast a spell on my housemates to make ’em ferget their empty bellies or the supper ’bout to burn if they don’t sit and eat.”
At his words, the men scrambled for their bowls, tripping over each other to get the food.
Slapping my thighs, I turned to Ernst. “Well, old friend, I suppose we should be off. I see the cou—” I quickly caught myself, “Margarethaleft a packet of herbs on the table. Do you want another cup before I leave?”
I reached for his empty mug, but Ernst was quiet, his brows furrowed as he watched Margaretha.
“I saw Count von Waldeck’s daughter once when she were a child.” He spoke slowly. “Do ya ever see her at the castle?”
I paused, my hand still reaching for his cup. “Sometimes. Why do you ask?”
“I’ve heard she’s grown into quite the woman. ‘Unparalleled beauty,’ they say, ‘with skin as white as snow and lips as red as blood.’ I’m told she’s clever too. Clever as a raven.”
“Then she is truly blessed,” I snapped, standing up so quickly I almost bumped the mug out of Ernst’s hands.
He nodded. “Indeed.”
“Get well, Ernst.” Turning, I called, “Margaretha, it’s time to leave.”
Mistress Hatzfeld was quick to be up and out the door, but the countess ducked a curtsy to the men. “Farewell, everyone.Glückauf.” She waved, and I followed her out into the cool summer night air.
The countess tilted her face to the full moon, taking a deep breath before she looked at me with a guilty smile. “Daniel’s food smelled terrible.”
“You’re lucky they didn’t make you eat it.” I smiled back.
Untying the horses, I led them to the mounting block, holding them steady while each lady mounted. Then I climbed up behind Margaretha. Despite the odor of Daniel’s cooking, her hair still smelled of lilac petals in the sun, and I didn’t lean away from it this time. When she clicked the horse onto the moonlit path, I eased my arms around her waist, letting my body relax against her.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, you know,” she said.
I went rigid, heat shooting up my neck. “What do you mean?”
“You’re still poaching from Father’s woods, aren’t you?”
