Chapter 20
Castle Dracula, Transylvania
The days that followed Mina’s illness passed in a blur of fatigue and strange dreams—though none seemed quite so vivid as those she’d experienced during her fever.
When she closed her eyes, she saw men attacking the castle, kicking down the door and shouting with triumph as they spilled into the front hall.
She heard the cry of a woman, begging for her life, only to hear the growls and snarls of wolves moments before her screams ceased.
She saw a woman with blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, reaching out toward Mina.
When she looked at the woman, she realized it was Lucy, but as she reached for her hand, Lucy changed, shifting into a stranger.
And when those dreams became so frightening that they’d awoken her—pain slicing through her skin, teeth grasping onto her, tearing her apart as though she were caught between those wolves—it was the Count who was there by her side, looking down at her with such tenderness as he brushed the stray locks of hair from her face.
By the time Mina’s mind finally cleared from the haze, she found herself desperate to get out of her chamber, to walk through the castle and see proof that they had only been dreams, nothing more.
Yet as she readied for supper, she realized something was missing—the crucifix she’d worn since her arrival.
The memory came back to her of the night she’d been gifted the emerald pendant, of her placing the crucifix on the table.
She recalled the Count saying Sofia would bring it to her chambers.
Mina looked around her room, wondering where it would have been placed. When Sofia appeared to bring Mina to the dining room for supper, she asked after it.
“You mean the pendant the Count gave you?” Sofia replied.
“No, the crucifix,” Mina said. “It was wooden. I wore it for the first week of my arrival.”
Sofia’s expression was unreadable. “I’m sorry, mistress, I don’t recall you wearing a necklace before the Count gifted you one.”
Mina frowned. It wasn’t that the item was particularly fashionable, or even sentimental—it had only just been given to her by the woman in the inn.
But she supposed that deep down, despite knowing the whispers of the villagers had been nothing more than superstition, the item had brought some comfort.
As Mina followed Sofia to the dining room, doubt continued to creep in.
There were two minds within her—one that heard the assurances from the Count and Sofia, that understood there had been no attack, that she had never been in danger; yet there was another mind that thought differently.
Or rather, perhaps one was her mind, the other her heart.
She had no proof, no evidence of her experience, but the feelings were there, glimpses of emotion so vivid in her mind even when the exact words and events were hazy.
It unsettled her deeply—the thought that she’d not only left behind those she’d loved in England, but that she might have left herself behind as well, the woman she had once been.
Still, she resolved that if it were true, if she had become a weakened version of herself since arriving, that she would find a way to resist it.
Somehow, she would reconcile the old Mina with the new and discover happiness in this foreign place that was to be her home.
She tried to immerse herself in her new life.
Each morning, she sat before her desk and wrote letters to Lucy, Jonathan, and, at times, Aunt Emily.
She tried not to feel discouraged that nearly three weeks had passed since her arrival at the castle and still she had not received a single response to her letters.
They wouldn’t have forgotten about her—most days, Mina was certain of it.
But there was a fear deep in the back of her mind that, perhaps, she could truly be that replaceable to those she loved.
Their silence lingered each day, her anxiety growing stronger the more time that passed.
In the afternoons, she would try to distract herself by filling her mind with one of the many books in the Count’s library, but the material was often dry, and she found herself with little interest in the topics.
In the evenings, she would be with the Count, listening to him speak on his interests—philosophy and history.
He was enigmatic, and she found the ache in her chest easing when he was near.
It was easier when the Count was around, when she could distract herself with this growing flame between them.
She didn’t feel the true comfort that she’d felt with Lucy, but Mina supposed that was to be expected with a husband, especially one she had not known for very long.
He was passionate, intelligent, and when he looked at her, listening as she spoke, she felt as though her thoughts were worthy of sharing more than ever before.
It was one evening when they sat on the couch in the study, each with a glass of plum brandy in their hands and the warmth of the fire in the hearth, that he finally began to let her in.
He’d shared bits and pieces of his family, of his life years ago, but he’d never quite explained how things had come to be present day.
How had a castle once filled with such life ceased to breathe?
A place once full of laughter and celebration, now a shell of its former self.
“I have a question for you,” she said, tucking her legs up to her chest beneath the blanket on her lap. Liquor pulsed through her, loosening her tongue, but doing nothing to ease her racing heart. “You are a nobleman—”
“Yes,” the Count agreed, a smile in his eyes.
“You are powerful, intelligent—”
“I’m inclined to agree.”
“You are handsome—”
“Am I?” he asked. She felt her cheeks flush. He leaned over, brushing his lips against hers and stoking a flame within her. Gently, she pushed him away, a smile on her face.
“I told you, I have a question.”
“Go on, Countess,” he said, though his eyes were on her lips, his thumb tracing circles on her knees between them.
Mina took a deep breath, building her courage.
“Why did you take a wife through that gamble?” He stilled.
She quickly added, “You could have any woman you want.” Worry was building in her chest. She hadn’t meant offense, yet she couldn’t help but finally speak the question aloud: why her?
He hadn’t even known she was the one whose hand he would win—so why take such a gamble when it wasn’t needed?
The Count leaned back against the couch, his eyes landing upon the fireplace before them. “You’ve seen the isolation within these walls, haven’t you?”
She nodded, her heart racing.
“I’ve lived a lonely life, Wilhelmina.” He tilted his head, his eyes distant, as though off in a memory. “That was not always by choice.”
She shifted, building the courage to ask more. “But you could go anywhere in the world. You travel often for business. Why not take more time away to travel for yourself?”
He exhaled slowly. “This castle, this land, is my responsibility. It has been built upon the blood of my ancestors, and there are none left to rule over it. Only I am remaining.”
“And what if you weren’t?” she asked, treading carefully. “Would someone try to take it from you?” Her mind thought of her dreams—the pounding at the door, the men spilling inside.
The Count looked at her then, a sharpness in his eyes that made her fear she’d upset him. “No one can take what is mine. No one,” he whispered fiercely.
“Of course,” she said. She waited a moment, waited to see some of the tension leave his shoulders before she went on. “I suppose I’m just curious as to why you are bound to this land in such a way?”
He lifted his glass to his lips, draining it of the remaining brandy, and leaned forward to place the empty glass on the table before him.
“Loyalty,” he said. “Pride. My people did not give up their lives, survive through war and illness and famine, for me to abandon them.”
Mina nodded. “I don’t wish to imply you should abandon your land or your people,” she said, “I suppose I’m trying to understand what happened. You’ve spoken of a castle so full of life at one time, but now it’s just . . .”
“Me?” he supplied.
“You don’t need to speak of such things if they’ll cause you distress,” she said, feeling guilty for prodding.
“You wish to know of my family,” he said, a statement rather than a question.
“I suppose that’s fair given that you are part of it now.
” He reached out and brushed his fingers over her knee.
His gaze returned to the hearth, as though drawing up the memories from deep within his mind.
“At one time, we lived a life of prosperity. But that was before our land became a battleground. Before the Turks took everything from us.”
Mina’s mind churned, trying to make sense of what he referred to, what war or battle he’d faced.
She thought back to her school lessons. Was he speaking of the Russo-Turkish War?
She had been too young to understand when it was happening nearly fifteen years earlier, but she remembered bits of it from her classes.
The Russian Empire and the Balkan Christians had fought to free their fellow Christians from Muslim rule under the Ottoman Empire.
Even now, the violence of it seemed to echo in his words, as though it had been only yesterday, but he would’ve been a young man then, sent out into a battlefield with nothing more than pride and bravery to guide him.
“Men were given a choice—convert or die,” he went on.
“Many were killed for their faith, for their loyalty to Transylvania, their loyalty to God. Churches were destroyed, villages ravaged.” Mina watched him, the concentration on his face as though he could still see it now, playing behind his eyes.
“Men I considered family abandoned the cause, pledging loyalty to the other side.”
“Can you blame them?” Mina asked softly. He turned slowly, his eyes fixed on hers, a darkness to them that she’d never seen. She swallowed. “I just mean, they must have been afraid. In fear of their lives. When people are desperate—”
“They were weak,” he cut in, his voice firm. “A man’s loyalty is not tested in times of ease, it is tested in struggle. In strife. And they failed. They abandoned Transylvania when we needed them most.”
Mina exhaled, her voice soft as she said, “That must have been terrible for you.” She could only imagine what it must have been like to see one’s home destroyed, to see so many murdered.
“We won the battle, but at times it feels as though I lost my very soul.”
Silence fell between them. She wanted to ease his pain, but what could she possibly say that would fix all that he’d endured?
“Look at you,” he said, his voice softer now. “The pity in your eyes, the sadness on your face. Do you see, Wilhelmina, why I do not wish to speak of such things? Why I do not wish to relive such horrors? To share these horrible things with my beloved wife.”
She nodded, guilt pooling in her stomach for approaching the topic. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. He grasped onto her legs, pulling her to him and lifting her onto his lap, making her stomach flutter.
“Let us not speak of such terrible things,” he said. “That is the past. All that matters is now. Be here with me, Wilhelmina.” He pulled her face close to his, and her heart thrummed. “Help me forget my sins,” he whispered.
He kissed her deeply, fire trailing its way through her with his touch. She pushed down the unease heavy in her chest, giving in to the distraction of his mouth, his hands, his skin against hers. And they helped each other forget their pain.
***
Later that night, after they returned to her chamber, she tried to calm her racing mind, to just be there with him.
The closer they grew, the more conflicted she felt.
The Count cared for her, possibly even loved her—it was clear in the way he looked at her, in the gentleness of his touch and the way he attended her every need when he was near.
Surely he was not lying to her about things in the castle—he had no reason to.
She was here, she was committed to him and their life together.
But still, something pulled at her mind, a strange sense that something was not quite right.
When she awoke the next morning, she found a note left on his pillow stating he’d left for an urgent business matter but would be back within a day or two.
Mina rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling.
This had become normal for her, and yet, she didn’t even know where he went on these trips.
Anytime she’d asked, he acted as though it wasn’t worth sharing, as though it was of no importance, nothing more than his duty as a count.
But what business required a Transylvanian nobleman to leave on a moment’s notice for days at a time?
How far could he even get in that time, given the chaos of navigating the Carpathian Mountains?
She pushed the thoughts from her mind, feeling a stab of guilt for doubting him. He had been nothing but good to her, allowing her to live within his home without asking anything of her in return. And yet here she was, testing the seams of his stories, looking for things to see as suspicious.
Mina sat up, looking over the room as the early dawn light spilled in through the windows, her eyes catching on a note that sat atop her desk. She stared at it for a moment, confused, but then she wondered if this was some sort of game on the part of the Count.
Intrigued, she threw the covers off, the cold morning air brushing her bare legs as she walked across the room, snatching the folded note.
As her eyes skimmed the words, a heavy weight settled in her chest.
It was not the familiar script of the Count, but of a different hand—the words looping and elegant.
If you wish to know the truth, come alone to the watchtower tonight at 9 o’clock.