CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE SWANS AND WOLVES
CEL R?U–CRESSWELL RESIDENCE
BUCHAREST, ROMANIA
“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 R?u Cresswell.
Smiling to myself, I moved to the large four-poster bed—with a canopy made of gossamer panels—and halted.
A familiar box tied with black ribbon was laid out.
I’d forgotten to open it while at the academy and had nearly forgotten the day Thomas had tried sneaking it into my chambers.
I traced my fingers over the bow, marveling at the smooth, cool silk.
After everything we’d gone through, I couldn’t believe Thomas remembered to have it packed.
I slowly pulled one end of the ribbon, watching it come undone.
Curiosity finally took hold, and I tore into the brown paper wrapping and lifted the lid.
Tissue paper crinkled pleasantly as I unveiled the elaborate cloth hidden beneath.
“Oh…”
I held up the brilliant gown from its box, fighting the sudden onslaught of emotion choking me.
Thomas had purchased a bit of sunshine and dreams for me.
Something full of light to chase away the lingering nightmares.
Tiny gemstones winked in the candlelight as I turned it one way, then the next.
It was even more lovely than it had been in the window in Brasov.
The yellow so pale and creamy, it made me want to sink my teeth into it.
It was one of the most gorgeous garments I’d ever seen.
No matter how much death and horror existed, there were still things of beauty left to find.
My heart sped up, imagining Thomas sneaking back to the dress shop and having it wrapped.
It wasn’t the monetary aspect of the gift, but the fact that he’d bought it simply to delight me that stole my breath.
I clutched the gown close and danced around the room, allowing the tulle skirts to swish about as if it were my excited partner.
I found I could not wait to show Thomas and perhaps be like a sudden ray of sun to brighten his spirits in return.
Mr. Thomas Cresswell might not truly hold the title of prince, but that was perfectly fine.
To me, he’d always be the king of my heart.
When Daciana threw a ball, it was no modest event. It was one befitting a queen.
Victoria and the other girls from tea would croon over the lavish spread of desserts and pastries and fruits and meats piled high enough to feed the entire village of Brasov with its leftovers.
The offerings had been molded into shapes of fantastical beasts that I couldn’t quite discern from this vantage point.
I wished Liza were here to admire them with me.
I hadn’t received a return letter and squashed a sense of growing unease. All was fine.
I moved around the sweeping balcony, mesmerized by the entertainment taking place in the center of the ballroom. Dancers were crowned with diamond tiaras with shockingly white feathers on each side of their silver-haired temples, looking like swans taking flight.
The bodices of their matching gowns were made up entirely of feathers—white with shades of gray.
It was their gloves, however, that drew the most attention as they fluttered about the dance floor.
Solid black lace began at their fingertips, transforming into sheer tendrils of smokelike gauze as they coiled tightly around their elbows.
I stood, spellbound, as they gracefully leapt from one foot to the other. Some in the crowd watched, but the majority were lost in conversation.
“Such a pity.”
I turned and found Ileana nodding toward the people below. I could not control the gasp that escaped my lips. Gone was the embroidered maid’s costume and peasant dress. In their place was a young woman resplendent in a gown elegant enough for a princess.
A butterfly-shaped appliqué stretched its wings across her ample bust, inviting one’s gaze to travel to the train fluttering off her shoulders.
It was almost as stunning as the person wearing it.
I couldn’t help but admire this young woman and all she’d done for her beloved land.
She was the sort of nobility the world needed.
One who didn’t fear to tread in frightening places for the sake of her people.
No wonder Daciana was in love with her. It was hard not to admire her courage and drive.
She nodded toward the crowd. “They never stop to enjoy the magie going on around them.”
“I wasn’t expecting quite so many people,” I admitted. “When Daciana mentioned a small ball with close friends…” I trailed off as Ileana chuckled. “The Cresswells certainly have a flair for the dramatic. At least I know it’s hereditary. Though I do believe Thomas is a bit more theatrical.”
“Daciana has her moments as well.”
We stood in companionable silence for a bit. There was still one thing I hadn’t quite puzzled out. I faced Ileana.
“It was you and Daciana that night in the corridor, removing the body from the tower morgue, wasn’t it? You were chanting…”
Ileana nodded slowly.
“Radu mentioned that the Order performed death rites in the woods. Is that what you were doing? Did you know the train victim?”
“Yes.” Ileana stared down at the crowd, focus inward. “That was my brother. When I found out Moldoveanu was going to perform a postmortem on him…” She swallowed hard. “It goes against our beliefs. Daciana helped me take his body where it belonged.”
“So there is a meeting place in the woods?”
A moment passed and I assumed Ileana was weighing her words, deciding how much to share.
“There is a sacred location, guarded by wolves. Most don’t ever get close to it, thanks to folklore and the occasional bone that’s found.
” A small smile ghosted across her face.
“We feed the wolves large animals. They scatter the bones on their own. It provides a good story for the superstitious. No one wants to enrage Vlad Dracula’s immortal soul. ”
“It’s a good method of disguise,” I said. “I’m sorry about your brother. Losing a sibling is horrid.”
“It is. But we can carry their memory with us and draw strength from it.” Ileana clutched my gloved hand in her own and squeezed gently. “Am nevoie de aer. If you see Daciana, let her know I’ll be on the roof. It’s too”—she crinkled her nose—“stuffy in here for my tastes.”
After waving good-bye, I moved closer to the stairs, working up the nerve to head down.
I stood with my hips pressed against the banister, attention lingering on the crowd of colorfully dressed partygoers. Women wore dresses in greens and golds and all manner of reds, from the deepest evergreen to mulled wine.
I ran my hands down my shimmering bodice.
Pale yellow and gold gemstones were carefully sewn onto exquisite fabric, giving the appearance of sunlight on snow.
I couldn’t deny that I adored the garment and felt like a princess myself.
The thought brought on fond memories of the times Grandmama had wrapped me in jeweled saris.
I glanced around the bedazzled room, attention devouring each new shiny treat. Spruce branches hung above windows and mantels, their boughs dusted with glitter. I noticed cleverly placed clusters of mistletoe and steadied my heart.
Perhaps I would indulge in some free behavior myself.
If only for one night. The Impaler had been stopped, the academy saved from ruin, and it was time to sit back and enjoy the victory before we found out if we’d passed the assessment course.
A letter should arrive soon, and with it word of our fate for the next semester.