CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX HOUSE OF BASARAB
FOYER
FOAIER
brAN CASTLE
The next morning Thomas and I met in the castle’s receiving chamber, ready to embark on our journey to Bucharest. Noah and Cian had bid us good-bye before disappearing into the dining hall, and I was now lost in thought, dreading that Daciana wouldn’t be there to greet us upon our arrival.
Thomas had written her immediately after our initial suspicions regarding Ileana, but Daciana hadn’t replied.
If she was hurt, or worse… I could not allow myself to think this way.
Thomas shifted every other moment, his attention riveted on the small window beside the door.
Our carriage was due to arrive any moment.
I closed my eyes, doing my best to ignore the memory of Anastasia’s corpse.
There were so many scratches and bite marks, it had been hard to recognize her.
The memory of those bats covering her body—a sudden burst of heat overwhelmed my senses.
I needed to get out into the cold before I was sick.
I rushed past Thomas and wrenched the door open, gasping in huge gulps of icy air.
Outside, the scent of pine mixed with that of the fires roaring inside.
The cloud-covered sun had barely stretched its arms across the horizon, and the temperature was cold enough to create icicles that looked like fangs surrounding the main doorway. Snow fell in a consistent rhythm.
The cold steadied my body temperature, allowing the bout of sickness to pass.
“Are you all right?” Thomas stood beside me, brow crinkled in concern.
I nodded. “The air is helping.”
Thomas turned his attention to the cobbled path, though it appeared as if he were lost inside his mind.
We were both bundled up in our warmest cloaks, tucked into layers upon layers of heavy material fighting the winter storm.
Thomas’s cloak was black as tar, with matching fur around the collar.
He stared out at nothing, jaws locked tight.
I could not imagine the thoughts running through his head.
I stuffed my hands into the muff hanging from my neck. “No matter what we discover, we’ll make it through this. We’re a team, Cresswell.”
Thomas stomped his feet and blew warmth into his leather-clad hands, steam rising like London fog around him. “I know.”
A familiar coldness settled into his features.
This was the Thomas Cresswell I’d first met in London.
The young man who didn’t permit anything or anyone too close.
The one who felt much too deeply, I realized.
Liza had been right all those months ago, more than even she’d guessed.
Thomas used distance as a barrier against being hurt.
He wasn’t cold and cruel—not even close to the relatives he feared being compared to.
He was breakable and knew precisely where his weakest points lay.
To help those he loved, he’d tear apart the world.
“Thomas. I—”
A sleek black carriage pulled up before us, horses as tall and proud as the driver who opened the door with an exaggerated flourish.
Thomas offered his hand and helped me into the coach before seating himself across from me.
I tried to ignore the sense of wrongness that sitting in such a small space unchaperoned stirred within me, as he nudged the hot brick at my feet.
“You were saying, Wadsworth?”
I smiled. “Nothing. It can wait.”
“What are you sorting out over there? Some deep-seated fear or…” His powers of perception clicked in at once.
A lazy grin stretched across his face, replacing the intensity of his previous expression.
He sat back, then patted the small space beside him on the seat.
“Bucharest is several hours away. Let’s not talk about serious matters yet. ”
I inspected my friend but said nothing. My thoughts returned to my discomfort.
It was quite scandalous to be traveling without a chaperone, but Mrs. Harvey had already left Brasov and we needed to confirm that Daciana was safe in Bucharest. Decorum and even our reputations needed to be set aside for the greater good.
Though Father might not view it the same way were he to find out.
I leaned back and forced those worries away.
We rumbled off, leaving the gothic castle in its commanding perch among the mountains.
I watched as it slowly disappeared behind swirls of snow.
I imagined the fortress’s icy glare had reached into our carriage, trying in vain to drag us back.
I could not get over how much a building made of stone could take on human qualities. Monstrous qualities, actually.
I dropped my hands in my lap, smile fading with the action. “I did some research on the House of Basarab last night.”
Thomas angled his face away, studying me from the corner of his eye, which prevented me from fully reading his reaction.
“Sounds dreadfully boring. Mother hired a governess for Daciana and me, and part of her glorious teachings included memorizing our Basarab family tree. More branches and thorny offshoots than an entire forest of brambles, with Daci and I being the sole blooms. Are you certain you’d rather not cuddle?
It’d be a vast improvement over this topic.
I should very much like to not think of anything related to Uncle Dracula. ”
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 D?nesti, and the other was the Dr?culesti. Your family and Prince Nicolae’s are from the two different offshoots.
He is of D?nesti blood, and you are of Dr?culesti.
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 D?nesti 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 D?nesti 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 Order, 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.
D?nesti 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, D?nesti 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.