Cosmina said nothing, but the countess came at her, taking her by the shoulders and imploring her, “Tell me you did not harm my son. What did you do to him?”
Under her aunt’s careful attention, Cosmina broke into sobs and the countess’s hands fell away. “I did not think you capable of that, child. Not my Andrei. My son,” she murmured, collapsing into a chair, her shoulder heaving as she coughed into her handkerchief.
Cosmina gathered her composure. She took a great, shuddering breath and squared her shoulders. She looked around the room, collecting us, and then spoke, slowly and distinctly. “Andrei is like a brother to me, and I would sooner die than harm a hair of his head. There is a
The countess half turned from her. “I do not know what to believe.”
“Believe she is a murderess,” I said firmly.
It was this last that prodded Cosmina beyond endurance, for she flew at me again and this time the count surged from his chair, rising up to put himself between us and shielding me from her with his own body. “Cosmina!” he said sharply.
She paused, her hands outstretched, curled like claws, her eyes avid and hungry for vengeance. The count flicked one finger and Tycho sprang between them, baring his teeth at Cosmina, a low growl rolling in his throat.
“A word from me and he will tear out your throat,” the count told her softly.
She darted her eyes to Tycho and then to me, perhaps gauging the distance between us and wondering if she could reach me before the dog reached her.
But she hesitated a moment too long, and in that second the count assumed control. He issued a command to Charles and Florian, never taking his eyes from Cosmina.
“Lock her in the garderobe,” the count instructed them.
“No!” she cried. “I cannot stay there. That is where she died! She bled there,” Cosmina protested, but the count would not be moved.
She twisted and writhed at first, and I watched Charles’s expressionless face, knowing he hated what he must do. But neither he nor Florian faltered, and when Cosmina realised they would give no quarter, she calmed herself and allowed them to lead her docilely from the room. They removed her to the cold and comfortless garderobe, and as they did, the countess sat, ashen-faced, watching the devastation of her favourite niece. The two women exchanged wordless glances, and there was a
We fell to silence until Charles and Florian returned, pale and unhappy. Charles gave a short nod to the count to indicate that his orders had been carried out, but Florian merely stood, his shoulders bowed, his woeful poet’s eyes fixed upon the floor.
The countess turned to me. “I will never forgive you for this,” she said clearly. Her eyes were dry and her expression stony. She was a woman who would hate implacably, and I knew I had made an enemy that night.
“I am sorry, madame,” I said, and I meant it, for I had loved Cosmina too, and the revelations of the past day had been difficult to bear. I had not liked the count’s methods, but I had understood them. Cosmina had to be shown for what she was, and her unnatural rages had persuaded everyone save the countess.
“Cosmina has stolen, and for that she must be punished. But I believe her. She is not responsible for the darkest deeds in this castle. It was the strigoi,” the countess said stubbornly. “Count Bogdan walks this place, and he will come for us all.”
Upon those chilling words we parted, and although the count gave me no looks of significance, no gesture of collusion, when he appeared in my room, I was not surprised to see him. He came to me by way of the tapestried stair, and stood, saying nothing but opening his arms in invitation. I went to him, putting my head to his shoulder as his good arm came to embrace me.
“I feel a thousand years old,” he said, murmuring the words into my hair.
“What will become of her?”
“She attempted my life, and very likely killed Aurelia as well. She must be put away.”
I drew back, searching his face. “You mean she will be gaoled? She will hang then.”
“No,” he said sharply. “I will not have the scandal of it touching my family. What Dr. Frankopan told you is true. Her mother is unwell, a weakness in the head and nerves. She has been locked away since Cosmina was an infant. I know Frankopan and others besides believe such weaknesses may be carried in the blood. If that is true, it is not her fault. She is a flawed and unnatural thing, but not evil.”
“She has killed,” I said, even then trying to convince myself that the girl I knew could have done such deeds, worked them out, coldly and maliciously, determined to end the lives of those she decided were unfit to live. “But it would give me no pleasure to see her hang for her crimes.”
“I knew her as a child,” he said, something almost pleading in his eyes as he willed me to understand. “I cannot turn her over to them. They will see only the deed and not the lost child. Even now I pity her.”
I put a hand to his face, touching the long line of silken black stitches. “It does you credit,” I told him.
He gave me a cynical smile. “You think so, but it is not merely for Cosmina’s sake that I will not give her over to the authorities. My mother maintains her innocence, and I am not certain enough of my own conviction to persuade her. I know what I believe, but there is no proof of it, and without such proof, the matter would drag through the courts and the newspapers and we would all of us be mired in the mud of it. No, tomorrow Florian will go to Hermannstadt. There is a private clinic there, an asylum. It is the only choice.”
“And they will simply accept your word for the fact that she is mad? They would lock her up on your recommendation alone?” I asked.
For a moment, the familiar
“And must she be kept in the garderobe until she is taken away?” I asked. “It is so cold there, and it is where Aurelia died.”
The air of command did not alter. “She will remain there until she is taken. It is the scene of her crime, and it will not harm her to meditate upon her villainy.”
But as soon as the haughtiness descended, it fled and his tone was gentler. “There is nowhere else that I can keep her to ensure our safety. I have sent a mattress for her comfort, and she will be given hot food whenever she wishes. It is the only way.” He searched my face with tender and imploring eyes. “Will you forgive me?” he asked. “I could say I had no choice in how I brought the matter to light, but I did. I was ruthless, deliberately so. I used you to force a reaction from Cosmina, and I nearly destroyed you in the process.”
“You did what you must,” I said slowly. “But if you suspected her, why did you not confront her yourself?”
He paused a moment, as if searching for the proper words, and failing to find them, plunged on, taking honesty as his watchword. “Because I doubted you. I have known her tricks and lies and rages since she was a child. That is the truth of why I refused to marry her. Always there was something not quite human in her, although I never dared speak of it to anyone. But I did not know how deeply rooted the madness was. I too searched her room, when I left you in the garden. I found the letter and the carving fork and the rosary, and I saw how neatly it might all have been done.”
“You found them-and still you did not expose her?” I made to pull away, but he held me fast.
“Because I know her, I have always known her. She is capable of turning any circumstance, no matter how black, to her advantage. The objects alone were no proof, particularly since she would only say you had put them there yourself. And God help me, I doubted you. I had to know the truth.”
I opened my mouth to remonstrate with him, and snapped it closed. Had I not doubted him for the duration of our acquaintance? I owed him a just response.
“I suppose I understand,” I said slowly. “But my goading her into a rage has accomplished nothing. She confessed to theft, nothing more. She will never admit to killing Aurelia or to attempting to harm you. Even your own mother does not believe her guilty.”
“But I do,” he said with a grim note of satisfaction. “And I have the power to send her away.”
