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Daciana wrapped it about my shoulders and squeezed me tight.
“Thank you.” I breathed in the warmth of the cloak and exhaled the exhaustion settling around me. Watching anyone perish was something I wished to avoid, though I knew better than to believe this would be the last time I encountered violent death.
“Come,” Daciana said. “Let’s get you near a fire. You both appear ready to collapse.”
We stumbled out of the basement morgue, tired, battered, and holding a dying student between us. Standing before us were the headmaster and several guards. Professor Moldoveanu inhaled sharply, then barked out orders. “Take the prince to Percy and have him administer fluids immediately, and treat him for arsenic. He has a tonic he’s been working on.”
Danesti flew to our side and hefted the prince onto a wheeled stretcher. “Adu doctorul. Acum! Now!”
Royal guards wheeled Nicolae from the room, the sound of the table screeching all the way down the corridor. I collapsed on the floor, too tired to stand any longer. Thomas folded himself beside me. My partner through Hell. I almost laughed. Liza had been correct once again—Thomas truly would follow me into the bowels of Hades and not bat an eye. Unless he was inappropriately winking, of course.
“I demand to know what is going on in this academy,” Moldoveanu ground out. “Why are the two of you covered in filth and gore, dragging the prince through the tunnels?”
I lifted my head and stared at Thomas. I did not know where to even begin. We’d left Daciana and Ileana in the passages. They did not want their identities to be revealed to anyone. I was having a hard time remembering the story we were supposed to give, but I sat up a little as Thomas brushed hair back from my face.
“It’s quite a long story,” I said. “But the short of it is, Anastasia staged her own death…”
Moldoveanu’s sneer faded as I recounted the details of our search in the tunnels. Poezii Despre Moarte and the poems it contained. The chambers of death we’d barely escaped. The family lineage of Anastasia and how she wished to hunt Prince Dracula and make him her bridegroom. I left nothing out regarding the arsenic poisonings or the way she impaled certain victims. A tear slid down his face as I relayed the story of his ward’s actual death. I pulled out the book of poems and handed it over to him. I hoped to never see it again.
When I finished, Thomas lifted a shoulder. “Seems we ought to get some extra credit. We did stop a murderess from destroying the academy.”
Moldoveanu’s eyes were no longer watering. They were frozen and dead. “Get back to your rooms and pack your things immediately. I’ll decide what to do with you both after the holiday. Your carriage will be waiting at sunrise. Do not show yourselves back here until I say you may return. Which might very well be never.”
Without so much as a simple thank-you, the headmaster exited the basement morgue, and we heard the sharp sound of his footsteps echoing his harsh words of farewell.
Thomas offered a hand. “Is it only me, or do you believe he’s beginning to like us?”
CEL RAU–CRESSWELL RESIDENCE
BUCHAREST, ROMANIA
24 DECEMBER 1888
“Oh! You’re both here!”
Daciana moved as quickly down the grand staircase as her beaded gown allowed. It was strange, standing here, surrounded by such beautiful things. Each edge of furniture was dipped in gold and reflected the candlelight. It was stunning in all the right ways. I curtsied politely when she reached us and Daciana did the same.
“It’s wonderful to see you under more… civilized circumstances.” She kissed my cheeks, then hugged her brother tightly. “I managed to reach Mrs. Harvey before she left for London, but she’s upstairs—”
“Napping?” Thomas asked, lips twitching.
“No, you miserable thing,” Daciana said. “She’s getting dressed for the ball. Hurry up and get ready. Our guests will be arriving within an hour.”
After the horrendous events in the crypt, a ballgown had been the furthest thing from my thoughts. In fact, I’d barely had time to gather my belongings. The headmaster had rushed us out of the castle so quickly we hadn’t been able to say good-bye to anyone, let alone go on a shopping excursion. I’d left a note for Noah but wished I could have said farewell in person. I was going to miss him and his sharp mind. Thinking of my classmate brought on darker memories and I tried not to picture Anastasia’s impalement and failed.
Daciana tentatively reached out and drew me from those morbid images. Her grip in my hand tightened a bit, giving me strength. “Someone will be up shortly to assist you,” she said.
“I didn’t bring anything to wear.”
I exchanged a nervous glance with Thomas, but Daciana waved it away, a conspiratorial smile lighting her face.
“Nothing to fret over,” she said. “Simply a few close friends enjoying Christmas Eve together. Nothing too extravagant. The best dress you brought should do.”
The room Daciana had picked out for me was well appointed. It boasted all the finery a royal could want, let alone a lord’s daughter.
I stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in the splendor. A fireplace crackled softly in one corner, and I couldn’t help walking over to admire the paintings that decorated its elaborate mantel. Flowers and mountains and still-lifes of Bucharest were captured in jewel-toned colors. I stepped closer, inspecting them with interest. Scrawled along the bottom was a familiar name in beautiful script. I recognized his writing immediately.
Thomas James Dorin cel Rau Cresswell.
