4

Duke Gasto threw on a shoulder cape and rushed out of his carriage, heading with a determined stride in his footsteps towards the auction platform in the center of town.

This was his moment, his chance! At long last, he could make the beautiful Rosenrot his! Well, beautiful was an overstatement. But with a small town like Freudendorf, there weren’t many options to choose from.

The moment he’d seen the news in the town paper that Rosenrot was to be sold, to pay off her family’s debt, he had made his plan. He, the gracious and great Gasto, would come to her rescue. He would pay off her deft, and she would come live in his mansion, and there he would woo her, convince her that she belonged with no one other than his grand self, and she would finally fall for him.

“Rosenrot, my love!” He leaped like a merry deer and waved his hand high above the crowd gathered for the auction. “Your hero has arrived to save you!”

Heads turned his way, followed by scowls and grumblings. Gasto maintained his perfect smile, looking left then right, scanning the platform of people for lavender hair.

When he failed to find her, his hand made a fist and he demanded with a shout, “Where is the girl Rosenrot? I heard she was to be auctioned!”

“Yes, and so she was,” the rotund auctioneer answered from his much higher stance on the platform.

Gasto grimaced at his air of superiority. “She what?” he exclaimed. “When? And who on earth to?”

“The signature on the contract reads to Lord Varick,” the man read.

Gasto’s expression froze somewhere between outrage and confusion. “To…who?”

***

Rosen’s memory of the path into the forested foothills became more solid with each step. Butler Sterbetod led the way past a row of bushes and across a wide paved space. Up ahead loomed a gate.

This was the place where she’d seen the wraith. The bushes she had hid behind back then had either been trimmed or shoved aside to make walking room. She glanced left and right, making sure nothing lurked in the twisted, maroon undergrowth.

A burgundy vine wove and curled its tendrils around the dark rods of the ancient gate. The zombie butler clamped his hands around two rods, and it took his bony arms several yanks before the gate finally squealed open.

Beyond, rising and twisting into the stormy sky, stood a castle that embodied every sense of the word forbidden.

Vines like the one beside her climbed up stone faces. Gargoyles stared down from lofty perches on jutting turrets and arched window frames. The towers tipped with spires looked like fangs snarling at the world. Rosen tried to rub warmth into her limbs as she observed the unwelcoming aura of the castle.

Butler Sterbetod dipped his head and creaked his torso forward in a bow. “Welcome to Disteldorn Castle…Miss Rosenrot.”

She dipped her head, feeling she ought to reply in some respectful way, even though every part of her wanted to turn tail and flee this growing nightmare.

She took tentative steps along a gravel path through the front courtyard, following the butler. Once-decorative plants in pots were black, wilted things, and the hedges were so uneven and overgrown it resembled a forgotten briar patch or a haunted maze. She tried not to trip on the roots of some thorny shrub winding its way through the gravel.

“So, I guess nobody cleans around here much?” she said sarcastically.

“The master prefers things…not to be disturbed,” the butler replied in all seriousness.

Disturbed? As in, cleaned?

A set of stone steps, spotted with green moss and orange fungus, led to a set of grand arched doors: decorative rusted bolts running across a wood façade that had some rot. Whoever this lord was, he clearly didn’t care about appearances—and to a rather lazy and pathetic extent.

‘His cleaning is certainly inhuman,’ she thought sourly.

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The butler pulled and let drop a great rusted ring, which knocked on the door with a hollow thud. She waited behind his shoulder for something to happen, even though he was shorter than her.

The gargoyle above the door opened one stony eyelid.

Rosenrot held in a yelp. A glass eyeball turned and stared down at them, and then the eyelid shut.

There was a jostling of bolts on the other side before the door swung open.

Candle flames hovered in the open doorway, and someone spoke, “Oh my! This is the new servant? Welcome, welcome.” A white smile flashed in the darkness. “And what is this lovely’s name?”

Following Butler Sterbetod inside, it wasn’t until Rosen’s eyesight adjusted to the castle’s dim atmosphere that she saw the hovering flames weren’t attached to any candles, but rather were part of the wrists, elbows, ankles, and ears of a humanoid. No taller than her waist, his body was translucent like a thick layer of fog, yet somehow solid and wearing a gentleman’s attire.

“Miss Rosenrot,” answered the butler.

“How do you do, Miss Rosenrot?” said the person.

Rosen wasn’t sure what to say. “Fine, I suppose, thank you.”

“Pretty and polite, isn’t she,” he exclaimed. “How ever did this old geezer manage to convince you to come live and work here?”

She opened her mouth, but then he waved his flame-wristed hand, “No matter. I’m just glad you’re here. We’ve been in need of a new face around these parts for quite some time.” He chuckled. “And it’s good that you don’t get upset at the sight of nymiads. Some people, when they first see us, go into quite a panic, as if they’ve seen something dreadful. Can’t understand why…” He shrugged his foggy shoulders. “We never hurt anybody, and we’re talented at many things.”

“Nymiads…aren’t those creatures of folklore?” she asked tentatively.

“Ah, ja, we’ve been named in some ancient folklore. But none of what they say is actually true. It’s just another fabrication to explain away the existence of Altered,” he said.

“Altered?” Rosen recalled hearing a tale of once-humans who’d taken on strange forms and become something else, called the Altered, but she didn’t know much else.

“Hm, I suppose most of us do prefer to stay out of the limelight, so to speak. It’s no wonder you don’t know of us. But anyhow!” Flames flapped as he waved his arm grandly. “You can call me Licht. Allow me to escort you to the master, fraulein—he’s most likely in the drawing room.”

Licht peered up at a grandfather clock to their right, wood as thick as a wardrobe and with a huge clock face that brushed up against the underside of a grand staircase.

“Ja, it’s nearing lunch time.” Licht stroked a hand through his jutting translucent hair. “Follow me, fraulein!”

Rosen clasped her hand to her other elbow in front of her, trying to mask the unease rippling through her stomach. She climbed up the curving staircase, following Licht’s glowing flames. Nothing caught fire, even when Licht trailed his hand along the rail, as if the flames were of a different nature and under his control.

“What is Lord Varick like?” she found herself asking suddenly, wanting to fill the void while navigating the eerie dim castle.

Licht and Butler Sterbetod shared a look.

“You didn’t tell her?”

The butler’s neck cracked as his head slowly shook.

“Well then.” Licht brushed the sides of his thick-fog vest, mouth working, his teeth glowing as if flames hid inside them. “Varick is…is… How should I put it?” The nymiad made an effort to think.

“Difficult,” Sterbetod wheezed.

“Ja. Extremely difficult.” Licht nodded. “Try not to take anything he says to heart,” he advised in a quiet tone.

Rosen glanced between them, her clasped palm getting sweaty. “Is he the Nachzehrer?”

Again the two shared a look. But Licht halted at a door before an answer could be given. “It’ll be fine, I’m sure,” Licht whispered, which didn’t make her feel any better, then tapped on the door.

“Master Varick? The butler has arrived with the new worker you requested.”

Several seconds of silence passed, and then faint footsteps could be heard drawing near, and the ornate door swung inward.

Dim light from the room beyond combined with Licht’s flames to illuminate a figure standing tall in the doorframe.

Rosen’s breath caught in her throat.

If a human could embody the words “dark prince” and “royal beauty,” this was him. Perfect sharp nose and symmetrical features. Cat-like eyes and thick eyelashes black as night. Hair a dark waterfall cascading down in wavy layers brushing the tops of firm shoulders; his skin alabaster white. Lord Varick stared down at her, his irises catching the lamplight and glowing like silver coins.

“Master Varick, may I introduce Miss Rosenrot.” Licht bowed with a wave of an arm and swirling flames.

Rosen made her best attempt at a curtsy, trying to halt the rapid beating in her chest. He was gorgeous. She didn’t know a man could be called gorgeous.

His perfect lips parted to speak.

She held her breath, waiting for his elegant words.

“A human girl?” he said.

Rosen paused mid-curtsy. His tone didn’t sound quite so pleasant as his appearance promised.

“I tell you to bring me a new nymiad servant—a male servant. A nymiad male servant. And instead, you bring me a human girl? A—human—girl?” His princely features distorted into a rude frown. “What is wrong with you, Sterbetod? Why can’t you ever do things right!”

Rosen’s jaw dangled, flabbergasted.

“But, Master…” Butler Sterbetod wheezed, one green hand over his chest. “A feminine touch will…do this castle good. She is a…hard worker, and…this place needs serious care or…else it will fall apart.”

Varick’s expression remained sourly unchanged.

“And I already…paid for her service…”

“You threw my money away on that?” The young lord pointed a long finger at her, no doubt taking in her half-missing arm.

Rosen snapped out of her daze. “Did you just refer to me as a that? Excuse me, but I am not a that.”

“Shut up! Go away!” he shouted.

The door slammed in her face before she could finish.

She blinked at the polished wood, then turned her neck to look at Licht and the butler. “Did he just—? Did he really—?”

“…Difficult,” the butler concluded.