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“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, not wanting to intrude and inquire after potentially lurid details. “Losing a loved one is one of the most horrid things a person can endure.”
“Thank you.” She offered a sad smile. “My aunt was not interested in being a cosseted lady, locked away and dictated to by her husband. Moldoveanu respected her. Never pushed for her to remain by his side.”
Anastasia tucked a golden strand behind her ear, and I was grateful for the slight break in the conversation. I was momentarily stunned. Moldoveanu’s situation with his former betrothed was so similar to what I’d been upset with Thomas over. I did not forgive the headmaster for his reprehensible behavior, but I did understand him a bit more.
“After her body was discovered, he changed,” Anastasia said. “I know it’s hard to believe, but he’s so cold because he thinks it might end up saving a life one day. It’s also why I’m not allowed to actually become a student, though he permits me to sneak into classes sometimes.”
Anastasia opened her journal, and I did not press for further information regarding her aunt’s murder. I glanced around for a distraction of my own and noticed that a book of Latin phrases lay propped open on the table before me. We needed to be proficient in Latin in order to pass this course. Another thing I needed to improve on, though I had a decent, basic knowledge thanks to my uncle’s lessons. Moments slowly dragged by in silence. I couldn’t stop seeing the look of pain on Thomas’s face.
I picked at the lace on my gloves. “I wonder what the cause of Wilhelm’s death will turn out to be. He was so oddly colored.” My own skin prickled, but I gripped my fears in a fist. “I don’t recall ever seeing a body in such a state before.”
“Awful.” Anastasia scrunched her nose. “I forgot you inspected the body before Uncle forced you to return. I’ve never read about symptoms like that before.” She started speaking too quickly in Romanian for me to comprehend, then pressed her lips together. “I apologize. I forget you’re not fluent yet. Would you like to visit the library? Perhaps you’ll find something there that explains strange medical conditions.”
“Maybe tomorrow. I’m tired.” I stood and nodded toward the door. “I think I’m going to go soak in the tub. Perhaps we can go in the morning.”
“Maret! Soaking in the tub is a wonderful idea! I might do the same. I love a good bath.”
“See you for breakfast?”
“Of course.” Her lips turned down at the edges briefly before she offered a full smile. She dropped onto the settee with all the grace of a sack of potatoes and plucked up the Latin book. “Try to get some rest—it was a tragic day. Hopefully tomorrow will be brighter.”
Torches in the corridor had been mostly extinguished when I crept from Anastasia’s chambers. Midnight air was christened with arctic drafts, prompting gooseflesh to rise as I drifted down the vacant, dark hallway. Black shapes lurked around the sculptures, larger than the objects they stood guard over. I knew they were only shadows, but in the soft, flickering light, they seemed to be unearthly creatures stalking me. Watching.
I held fast to my skirts and moved as swiftly as I dared. It truly felt as if I were being monitored. By who or what, I didn’t care to distinguish. Eyes tracked my movements; I sensed the force of them as I retreated. Which wasn’t probable, I knew, and yet… I stumbled like a fawn on new limbs, aware that a predator pressed on, unseen. “It’s not real,” I whispered. “It’s not—”
A small creak of the floorboards behind me spiked adrenaline in my veins. I glanced around, pulse thundering. Empty. The corridor was void of anything other than my nerves. Not one shadow moved. The castle seemed to hold its breath along with me, attuned to my every mood. I stood there, frozen, as seconds crept by. Nothing.
I exhaled. It was only a hall. No vampires or werewolves. Certainly no malevolent force stalked me to my rooms. Unless my wretched imagination could be counted. I hurried along, the swish of my skirts urging my heart into a trot despite my mind’s attempt at soothing my fears.
I passed the boys’ floor and continued up the stairs to my tower chambers, not pausing again until I heard the soft click of my door shutting. I pressed my back against the wood and closed my eyes.
A sharp snap had them flying open again, scanning. My focus landed on the fireplace, at the twigs glowing near-white and orangey red. The mystery sound was nothing more than firewood crackling in the hearth. A normal sound that should be pleasant on a blustery evening. I sighed, moving toward my sleeping chamber. Perhaps if I crawled into bed and left this day behind, things would truly be better in the morning, just as Anastasia had said.
When I entered my room I perceived something was amiss. My bed was undisturbed, armoire and trunk closed. But on my nightstand an envelope stood propped against an oil lamp, my name written in script I recognized as readily as my own. I’d watched him scrawl out medical notes during autopsies with Uncle all this past autumn. My heart raced for an entirely new reason once I read it.
Meet me in my chambers at midnight.
Ever yours,
Cresswell
Heat sizzled under my skin, pooling in my core. Going into Thomas’s rooms this late at night was… reckless and would most certainly ruin me. I was positive it’d also be grounds for expulsion. Not to mention the death of my reputation. No decent young man would ever want me for his wife, regardless of how innocent our visit was. Sneaking into his rooms was far more dangerous than any immortal ghost haunting this castle, and yet I feared it less. I wanted to see Thomas, to apologize for the way I’d overreacted earlier. He did not deserve the brunt of my anxiety.
I paced around my bedroom, letter clutched to my chest. I couldn’t bear the thought of how Father might react to my soiled name, and yet an idea took root and didn’t relinquish its hold. If I was so apprehensive of marriage, then perhaps being caught wouldn’t truly be the death of me. It might very well be my rebirth.
I glanced at myself in the looking glass. My green eyes twinkled with hope. And excitement. It had been such a long time since I could recall seeing that spark of intrigue.
Without another thought, I left my chambers and found myself knocking on Thomas’s door as the courtyard clock struck midnight. The door swung open before I’d had time to drop my hand. Thomas motioned me in, his attention sweeping the hallway behind me as if he were expecting someone else to be wandering down the corridor so late at night.
Perhaps he was as nervous as I was. I subtly inspected the room. His frock coat lay discarded on one of three oversize leather chairs. A tea service breathed steam on an end table set between two chairs. On a sideboard there were a few covered platters of food and a carafe of wine. Seemed Thomas was ready to feed a small army. I faced him, trying not to notice the button that had been undone at his throat, or the sliver of skin it revealed.
“Thomas… I must apologize—”
He held a hand up. “It’s all right, you have nothing to be sorry about.”
“Oh?” I asked, sinking with relief. “If you’re not after an apology, what is so important that you dramatically summoned me down here? If you imply it’s for a tryst, I swear I’ll—I’ll… I’m not sure. But it won’t be pleasant.”
“You need to work on your threats a bit more, Wadsworth. Though the way your cheeks flush while you say ‘tryst’ is amusing enough.” He grinned rather broadly at my scowl. “All right. I asked you here because I wanted to discuss Wilhelm’s death. Not too romantic, I hope.”
