She shook her head back and forth. “Ah, it’s no wonder I am so weak. When they align, my magic shall come back to me, and I will find a way to return home. Have you come to free me?”
Her voice sounded so hopeful that I immediately felt ashamed. “I’m sorry,” I said. Woferl squeezed my hand tightly. “We haven’t come to free you.”
The witch’s smile grew wider. “No matter. I have missed thesound of another voice. Come here, children.” She held out her arms to us. “Come here, so that I may see you better.”
Woferl looked at me with a frightened face. “She is a witch,” he whispered. “Remember what the princeling said?”
I shot him a warning glare. The faery blinked at us, then giggled. Her voice was strangely lovely, as if she was younger than she appeared. “Don’t be afraid, little boy,” she said to my brother. “I will not hurt you. I know you will not stay long, but I only want to see your faces closely, to touch another’s hand before I return to my prison.”
My thoughts fluttered, frenzied, through my mind. I did not know how we could pick one of the flowers from behind the witch. One of us would need to distract her, and the other would have to take it. I felt a pang in my chest at the idea of stealing from this lonely creature. Hyacinth’s warnings still lingered in my mind, but they were starting to turn numb.
Woferl and I exchanged a pointed stare. Then I released his hand and started to walk closer to the witch. She smiled.
“What is your name, child?” she asked me. Her words had begun to sound like musical notes, as if she sang each sentence she spoke.
“Maria Anna Mozart,” I said. “I’m called Nannerl.”
“Nannerl,” the witch repeated. “What a beautiful little girl you are. You remind me so much of my daughter.”
From the corner of my eye, I could see Woferl walking alongside me, each time a tiny step farther away. He was going to steal the night flower. I kept my gaze locked on the witch. “Thank you.” I wanted her to stay focused on me. “What isyourname?”
“I no longer have one,” she said. Her voice caressed me in its folds, full of sweet melodies and muted violins. “I’m afraid I havebeen here so long that I cannot remember anymore.” The notes in her voice turned tragic, so that they tore at my heart with their sadness. I steadied myself.
“You look young and strong, child,” she went on. She did not notice Woferl’s widening distance from me—she was too interested in keeping my attention. “You could help me escape.”
“How would I do that?” I asked. “You are bound to this grotto’s floor.”
“All you would need to do is take some of the water from the pool,” she said, gesturing toward where we had come in, “and pour it on my feet. It will loosen them from the stone.” Her eyes flickered toward Woferl. He stopped in his tracks, feigning innocence. The witch smiled at him, and I let out a breath.
It would be difficult for us to sneak around her.
“We have nothing with which to hold the water,” Woferl said. “I am only wearing my nightclothes. We have no shoes, or thick aprons to use as a vessel.”
The witch frowned for a moment at this problem.
“Perhaps we can use one of the night flowers behind you,” I suggested. I pointed toward them. “They are very large. They may be able to hold enough water.”
Her eyes lit up. “Yes,” she said. “You’re right, clever girl.” She twisted herself around in place, bent toward the wall behind her, and picked one of the night flowers from the wall. It glowed more brightly in her hand, perhaps in fear, and I saw its thorny stem move slowly in her grasp. Woferl watched it with wide eyes.
I started to move toward her. I could see her wrinkles more plainly now, the circles under her eyes, the creases and folds, the frailness of her skin. She continued to smile at me.
“Nannerl,” she whispered as I drew closer. The night flowerglittered in her hand. “Help me escape from this grotto, and I shall repay you in ways you cannot imagine. I can answer your wish. I can keep you from being forgotten, like I have been.”
I swallowed hard. “How do you know about my wish?” I said. My eyes darted toward Woferl.
“Your brother can’t hear me, Nannerl,” the witch said. “Only you can. I know who you are, and I know what you want. If you free me, I can help you.”
I was so close now that the cold blue light of the night flower reflected against my skin. The witch’s eyes bore into mine. “Did Hyacinth tell you?” I asked her. “He must have mentioned it.”
Her lips turned down in a menacing frown. “You sound like you’re very fond of him.”
I hesitated, unsure whether I should answer her.
“And what is it that makes you so fond?” she said. The sweet violins in her voice now turned bitter, the nostalgia shifting into a dark memory.
“Should I not be?” I asked her. A seedling of doubt against Hyacinth was planted in my mind.Careful what she says to you,I reminded myself, alarmed.
“That isn’t something I can tell you. Do you trust him?”
