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BRAN CASTLE
2 DECEMBER 1888
Mist rose from the trees around the castle and settled over the mountains like fog in London alleyways as I perched on the settee, trying not to fidget.
Ileana said she’d return for breakfast, but it was nearly sunrise and I still hadn’t seen her. For all I knew, she might have been detained in another part of the castle. My foot bounced in place. Headmaster Moldoveanu would lock me out of the dining hall if I showed up late. My stomach grumbled its own disapproval as I waited. I decided I’d give her two more minutes before setting out to the dining hall. I’d need to be fortified if I were to survive the next few weeks and keep my wits about me.
I walked into my sleeping chamber and fussed with the few personal items I’d brought with me; in particular, a photograph of Father and Mother, taken long ago. I set it on my nightstand, feeling a little less alone in this strange place.
A knock came promptly at my door as the sun gilded the mountains outside the window in my tower chambers. Thank the powers that be. I moved quickly to the other room and ran a hand over my winter-green skirts. Whispered voices hushed the moment I opened the door.
Ileana carried a covered tray and smiled at the young woman beside her. “This is Miss Anastasia. She is the…”
“The ward of Headmaster Moldoveanu, or, as I enjoy calling him, the Most Uncharming Man in the history of Romania.” She waved her hand around and walked into my chambers. Her accent was slightly different from Ileana’s but retained a similar essence. “Honestly, he’s not as bad as all that. He’s simply… how do you say…”
“Crotchety?” I supplied. Anastasia laughed, but didn’t comment.
Ileana smiled. “I’ll set this here.”
I followed her over to the little settee and table while Anastasia inspected my shelves. She was plain but pretty, with wheat-colored hair and bright blue eyes. She certainly knew how to use her assets to her advantage, especially when she flashed an infectious grin.
“Are you searching for something in particular?” I asked, noticing the methodical way her focus swept over the spines.
“I’m so pleased you’re here. The boys are… fara maniere.” She lifted a shoulder, noting the confusion that must have shown on my face. “Most aren’t very pleasant or polite. Perhaps it’s the lack of oxygen. Or females. The Italian brothers are the biggest disappointment. Their noses stay stuck within their books at all times. They do not even glance in my direction! Not even when I show off my most prized attributes.”
She grabbed a book from the shelf and pressed it, open, against her face, walking about in exaggerated fashion, giggling. Ileana dropped her attention to the floor, her smile wide.
“I was hoping for a gothic novel to pass the time when you’re in your classes,” she said, tossing the book aside. “Of course Uncle Moldoveanu wouldn’t keep any such frivolity here. Did you bring any gothic novels, perchance?”
I shook my head. “Will you be taking classes as well?”
“Of course not. Uncle believes it’s unbecoming for a girl of my station.” Anastasia rolled her eyes and plopped onto the settee with a huff. “Though I don’t care. I will be sitting in on some classes, if only to spite him. He cannot be everywhere at once.”
“Has everyone else arrived?”
“All the ones who are from important families have, I believe. It’s a small group this time. Uncle is said to be… out for sânge, they say.”
“Why would they believe he’s out for blood?” I asked. Ileana lifted the lid of the tray, revealing pastries and meat pies, her attention now glued to them. I politely took a bite of a savory meat-filled piece of bread and then tried not to devour it whole. Whatever these were, they were delicious.
“Castle gossip I’ve learned while bored to near-death. So far everyone who’s in this course is either nobility or peasants with rumored links to nobility. Bastard-borns. No one knows what the point of all the royalty is, if there even is one. Don’t even ask about the Italian brothers. They have not spoken to anyone but each other. I have no idea what their history is.”
Anastasia popped a bit of bread into her mouth and groaned in pleasure.
“Though some believe it’s part of your test,” she continued. “Uncle enjoys games and intrigue. Finding common factors that may be beneficial when tracking murderers is a skill he believes all forensic students must possess.” She gave me an appraising look. “You’re obviously highborn. What is your family name?”
“Wadsworth. My father is a—”
“No ties to Romania?”
I blinked. “Not that I’m aware of. My mother was partly of Indian ancestry, and my father is English.”
“Interesting. Perhaps not everyone is descended from this region.” Anastasia bit into another piece of bread. “I heard you arrived at midnight with a young man. Are you betrothed?”
I nearly choked on my next bite of breakfast. “We’re… friends. And work partners.”
Anastasia grinned. “I heard he was quite handsome. Perhaps I shall marry him if you’re only work partners.” I’m not sure what she saw on my face, but she quickly added, “I’m teasing. I’ve got my heart set on another, though he pretends I don’t exist. How was your trip here?”
A vision of the impaled body crossed my mind. I set down my meat pie, suddenly not very hungry. “Dreadful, actually.” I gave a clinical account of the man on the train and the injuries he’d sustained. Ileana’s bronze face had gone pale as a specter’s. “I didn’t get a chance to see exactly what had been shoved into his mouth. However, it was organic in nature and was a whitish color. The smell was… pungent yet familiar, though.”
