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He fidgeted in his seat, an indication I’d come to recognize that there were secrets he wasn’t divulging. His tics and quirks were subtle, but I’d been a studious pupil. I sat forward, heart pounding with intrigue.
“Bear with me. As you said, long ago the House of Basarab broke off into two sparring families. One line was the Danesti, and the other was the Draculesti. Your family and Prince Nicolae’s are from the two different offshoots. He is of Danesti blood, and you are of Draculesti. Technically Wilhelm Aldea and the royal guard are also of royal blood, all related to Nicolae. Correct?”
Thomas twitched the curtains apart, mouth stubbornly shut. A few moments came and went as we crawled over a snowy pass. When he sat back and exhaled, I knew he’d decided to answer my questions.
“Yes. We are both descended from the House of Basarab. Though that was many, many generations ago. I’m not sure where the guard Danesti sits on the family tree, but I assume he’s related to Nicolae and Wilhelm in some manner. I am technically related to Vlad Dracula, and Nicolae is not.”
“Do you think that works in your favor? And… Daciana’s?”
Thomas let the velvet slip back into place, the window covered except for one tiny sliver. Light filtered in through it, gilding one edge of his jawline. “Are you suggesting my sister might not be dead?”
“I’m not sure what I think.” I nibbled my lip, unsure how to proceed. “Is it odd that Ileana—a likely uneducated peasant from the village—would know the historical line of a deposed house? It’s all so convoluted. You are descended from it and it’s difficult for even you to work out. Would she understand the intricacies of medieval families, even if they are so infamous?”
“What are you suggesting?”
“What if someone is using Ileana… what if the Order of the Dragon somehow forced her into their scheme? How would we uncover who’s a member? Who would be well versed in the bloodlines? Why are they murdering only members from the Danesti clan, yet also killing the lower class?” I inhaled deeply, forcing myself to voice my biggest worry. “So far not one member from your line has been murdered. Daciana may very well be in Bucharest, unharmed. Or… what if… what if she’s not missing at all? At least not missing through foul measures. Who are the Orde
r, Thomas? What do they ultimately want? Are they protecting your sister, your line? How does the current royal family fit in with all of this; was Radu mistaken? Are they at all related to your family?”
“The current royal family is of no relation to either side of the House of Basarab.” He sat forward, eyes earnest. “Do you believe they are—”
The carriage came to an abrupt halt, the coach jerking forward before rocking back. Our driver called to someone in Romanian, his tone not quite as cheerful as his expression had been moments before. I pressed my face against the frigid window, but couldn’t see whom the driver was talking to. Sleet practically poured from the sky in frozen sheets.
Thomas’s gaze wasn’t on the window when I turned around; it was fastened on the handle of the door. The handle slowly twisting to one side. Chills slid down my bodice. Our driver shouted something that sounded like a curse in Romanian. Without conscious thought, I sprang across the seat and clutched the handle, but I didn’t have enough weight to stop the door from being wrenched open.
A twisted face popped into our coach, brows white with snow and cheeks flushed crimson from the whipping wind.
Danesti flashed a delighted smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “No one leaves the grounds, on the orders of the royal family.”
Thomas subtly shifted his limbs in front of me, creating a slight barrier between me and the guard. “You cannot hold us here. The headmaster has already given permission for us to leave.”
“Prince Nicolae was not in his chambers when we went to escort him home. Until he is recovered, we hold everyone.” Without uttering another word, Danesti slammed the door shut. I watched in silence as guards on horses flanked our carriage. We were guided back toward the academy, the ruthless forest swaying with excitement the closer we traveled to the grounds.
My mind churned with this newest revelation. Nicolae wasn’t related to the current king and queen, so why was the court panicking about his disappearance? If the prince were truly missing, then he couldn’t possibly be working with Ileana or be a member of the Order. Which meant someone else with ample knowledge of the bloodlines was. I couldn’t stop my suspicions from rising. Was Daciana the one we were truly hunting? Had we been blinded once again?
Perhaps she was neither being held against her will nor being protected. Perhaps she was the one orchestrating this entire thing. If aristocratic families were members of the secret society, as Radu had claimed of the Order’s origins, then she very well might be involved. Though would they allow a young woman into their ranks?
Wind howled as if in pain, the sound raising the fine hairs on my arms and neck. I couldn’t help but imagine we were being escorted back to our doom. Vlad Dracula’s castle was alive with a malevolent anticipation as we pulled in front of the fortress.
It felt as if the academy couldn’t wait to sink its teeth into us.
DINING HALL
SALA DE MESE
BRAN CASTLE
22 DECEMBER 1888
Candles flickered nervously in the chandeliers strung up over our heads as we waited in taut silence for an update on our forced sequestering.
In the kitchens, someone was baking with cinnamon, the scent wafting through the grates, far too pleasant for the storm that was raging literally outside and figuratively inside the castle walls. Headmaster Moldoveanu stood near the door of the dining hall, cloaked in shadows and whispering with Danesti, Percy, and Radu. Our folklore professor kept sniffing, no doubt distracted by the aroma of his beloved sticky buns. Moldoveanu snapped his fingers, his expression near-lethal, as Radu muttered an apology.
I searched around the room for the librarian, but Pierre was noticeably absent. Odd, since we’d been told everyone in the castle was to attend this meeting. Everyone was now suspect, in my eyes.
I trailed my gaze along each table, inspecting my peers. Vincenzo and Giovanni no longer had medical journals open before them. They sat together, not uttering a word, shoulders tense. Erik, Cian, and Noah were quietly speculating on Nicolae’s disappearance, their attention flicking back to the headmaster. No one knew what to make of the situation.
I ignored the dead weight in my center, that heavy sense of loss, that I felt when I spied Anastasia’s empty chair. I still couldn’t believe my friend was gone forever. That someone had destroyed such a bright light. I had no doubt that had she lived, she would have ruled the world.
