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“I’m deciding, domnisoara.” He lazily dragged his gaze down each inch of my body, inspecting me closely, then coughed into his hand, no doubt whispering something unseemly as Bulky burst into laughter.
A slimmer, slightly paler young man sat on his other side, shifting his eyes from the dark-haired boy, to me, then to his hands, his mouth drawing into a frown. There was something in their bone structure that made me think they were related. However, his countenance was vastly different. He flicked his attention around as if it were a fly landing on different spots, then buzzing off just out of reach. He seemed so familiar…
I gasped as recognition set in.
“You. I know you.” He’d been on the train with Thomas and me. I was certain of it. He’d been the nervous passenger I’d wanted to question. He shifted in his seat, staring at the grain of the wood, ignoring me all together. His skin seemed to darken before my gaze.
I’d all but forgotten about the annoying dark-haired boy, and almost missed the fire that lit his eyes, as I gathered my skirts and headed for a table of my own.
DINING HALL
SALA DE MESE
BRAN CASTLE
2 DECEMBER 1888
“You do make the best entrances, Wadsworth. Half the young men at that table want to marry you now. I’ll have to work twice as hard on my fencing skills to defend your honor.”
I loosed a breath as Thomas folded himself into the seat across from me, plate piled high with savories from different regions, likely intended to accommodate students from across Europe. And sweets. Mrs. Harvey had been right about his affinity for desserts. I’d been so distracted by the boy I was certain was on board the train, I hadn’t noticed Thomas near the buffet.
“I hardly believe that’s true. I just made enemies, is what I did.” I stole a scone from his plate after he’d slathered clotted cream on it. “Anyway, I dislike all of the young men at that table, Cresswell. No need to turn in your scalpel for a foil just yet.”
“Careful, now. You’ve voiced the same charming sentiments about me. I get jealous rather easily. I want to have a duel, not raze the academy or burn it to the ground. Though it might improve Moldoveanu’s attitude, actually. Promise you’ll visit me in my cell?”
I smiled despite the topic and inspected my friend. “You know no one could ever annoy me as much as you, Cresswell. Hopefully they’ll think twice before mocking me again.”
“I’m quite certain it won’t be the last time you’re teased.” Thomas grinned while he covered another scone with cream. “Men enjoy the hunt. You have now proven you aren’t easily won, which makes you an interesting challenge. Why do you think so many heads are mounted on walls? Displaying trophies of our accomplishments is like saying ‘I’m strong and virile. Just look at that stag head in the study. I not only hunted it, I set the trap and coaxed it into my lair. Here’s some brandy, let’s pound our chests and shoot something.’”
“You’re saying you’d like to trap me and hang my severed head above the mantle, then? That’s so utterly romantic. Do tell me more.”
“Ahem.” Someone cleared their throat, interrupting us. “Would you mind if I sat here? Va rog?”
Even while sitting, Thomas somehow managed to stare down his nose at the dark-haired boy who’d rudely laughed at me earlier and was now standing beside our table. There was nothing lighthearted in Thomas’s expression now.
“If you promise you’ll be nice.” Thomas slowly pushed his chair back, the limbs screeching against the floor in protest. He’d not moved far enough to allow the young man to come between us. I was reminded of how tall and long-limbed he was, and how he could use it as another weapon in his arsenal. “I’d hate to see Miss Wadsworth embarrass you. Again.”
Tension pooled from him in thick waves—so dark and turbulent I was nearly pulled under. I’d never known Thomas to show such strong emotions before and thought there might be something else going on besides his annoyance on my behalf. Perhaps Thomas had already encountered the dark-haired boy and it hadn’t gone very positively.
It didn’t take much to deduce that this wouldn’t end well. The last thing either of us needed to contend with was Thomas being expelled for—whatever he was about to unleash. Right now he was every bit the villain with a hero’s face.
“How may we help you, Mr.…?” I allowed the question to hang in the air.
As if Hell wasn’t unfolding around him, the young man angled himself toward me in an intimate way, and I reconsidered who was in danger of being thrown out of the academy: Thomas might very well be the one holding me back from landing a well-deserved slap.
“I apologize for my earlier behavior, domnisoara,” he said, accent soft and lilting. “I also beg forgiveness for my companions. Andrei”—he pointed to the brute, who nodded curtly in response—“and Wilhelm, my cousin.”
My attention drifted back over to the sickly young man from the train. Wilhelm’s color was even darker than before. Such an odd shade. It appeared as if he’d gotten smudges of reddish dirt on his face. I’d never seen a rash quite so horrible before. Beads of sweat dotted his brow line.
“Your cousin seems unwell,” Thomas said. “Perhaps you should tend to him instead.”
We watched as Wilhelm hoisted a large black cloak around his shoulders and hunched toward the door. I needed to speak with him, find out what he might know about the victim from the train.
The dark-haired boy moved into my line of sight. “Permite-mi sa ma prezint. Er… allow me to introduce myself properly.”
He offered a shy smile, but it faded a bit while I kept my expression neutral. If he thought turning his charm on exceedingly high would endear him to me, he was quite mistaken. He sat taller, and an air of station dropped across him as if it were a velvet cloak settling into place.
“My name is Nicolae Alexandru Vladimir Aldea. Prince of Romania.”
