involved. You know it’s against our rules. You’re setting a bad example for the others.”
Gogu jumped out of the bowl, shook himself like a dog, and made a damp track across my arm and chest to his favorite spot on the pillow, beside my neck. He was cold; I pulled the blanket over him.
“I won’t make any promises I can’t keep,” Tati said, rolling over, her back to me.
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“All right,” I said grimly, “maybe I need to spell it out for you. Sorrow came to Ileana’s court with the Night People. He looks like them. He acts like them. I have no reason at all to think he’s not one of them. You know the stories just as well as I do. What about that time there was an attack in the mountains north of Bra?sov, and everyone was scared our valley would be next? There wasn’t a single household that didn’t have a sharpened scythe, or an ax, or a pitchfork ready by the door.
Folk were too scared even to go outside. You’ve heard the stories about Night People. They feed on human blood. Without it, they waste away. Once they bite you, if you don’t perish, you become one of them yourself: one of the living dead. It doesn’t matter how courtly Sorrow’s manners are or how much he likes you, Tati. The fact is, even if he has the best intentions, sooner or later he’ll be the death of you. You must stop this before it gets too serious.”
In my mind was an image of the two of them lost in their solemn dance, a shaft of moonlight capturing them and setting them apart—a vision of wonder and magic. What was between them seemed to have come from nowhere. It had been serious since the moment they set eyes on each other. Was there some spell in play—had the young man in the black coat bewitched my sister?
“You don’t understand,” Tati said. “I can’t turn my back on him now. He’s never had a friend before. He’s terribly alone.”
“I thought he came to Ileana’s glade with the Night People.” I couldn’t summon the least twinge of sympathy.
“He’s with them, but not
leader, has some kind of hold over him. If Sorrow stays among the Night People, it’s not through choice.”
“He told you that?”
“More or less, Jena.” Tati hesitated. “Where they come from, it’s not like Ileana’s kingdom. The rules are different. He’s desperate to get away, but something’s holding him there. Something he can’t tell me about. He needs me.”
“He’s probably just saying that to get your sympathy.” This was all wrong: it was like being in a cart hurtling downhill with the reins slipping out of my hands. “How do you know it’s not all lies?”
“You sound so hard, Jena.” Tati’s voice was very quiet.
“Someone has to be. Someone has to look after things.”
“That’s always been you. Sensible Jena. You know, I sometimes envied you that. Being known simply as
I said nothing, but lay back on the pillow, my hand around Gogu for reassurance. The truth was, it was exhausting being the sensible one. I had a simple solution to the Sorrow problem.
All I needed to do was refuse to help open the portal. While part of me could not imagine giving up our Full Moon visits—
the music, the magic—another part of me, growing steadily stronger, said the time was rapidly approaching when we must do so or see the two worlds touch in a way that spelled disaster. But I had to go once more, at least. I needed to warn Ileana and Marin about Cezar. I needed to tell them that, now he had authority over Varful cu Negur?a, the ancient forest might begin to fall on the first day of spring.
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“I know it’s against the rules, Jena.” Tati’s voice was a whisper. “I know what I’m supposed to do. But I don’t think I can.
This is like a tide pulling me along. It’s too strong to swim against.”
I had wondered whether Tati would wear the butterfly gown again, but she put on her old dancing dress, the violet-blue one.
She spent some time plaiting her hair and pinning it up on top of her head, with Iulia’s assistance. Around her neck was a fine silver chain that had belonged to our mother. Even clad in such a severe style, Tati could not look less than beautiful, though there was a pallor in her cheeks and an intensity in her eyes that had not been there a month ago.
We were not exactly jubilant as we made our preparations.
Iulia and I had argued earlier in the day about the lack of ingredients for such items as fruit pies and sweetmeats. I had perhaps been a little sharp with her when I told her I would not be asking Cezar for the means to acquire such inessential trifles. Now she was sulking. Paula was unusually subdued. On the appointed day for our lesson Father Sandu had not come, and although I had suggested that the inclement weather was the cause, none of us quite believed it. Stela had picked up the general sense of disquiet and complained that her head hurt.
Gogu sat on the little table, watching as I slipped on my green gown and brushed my hair.
“Do you want to go in the pocket?”
My frog was perceptive, as ever. I was such a mess of 109
churned-up feelings that I couldn’t tell which was the strongest.
I was certainly sad: sad that we had lost the ability to prepare for our special night in a spirit of simple excitement. I felt guilty, too. In a way, Iulia’s discontent was my fault, for not keeping a closer eye on the funds and for failing to stand up to Cezar. I had to face the unpalatable fact that I wasn’t coping as well as I should be. Above all, I was afraid: afraid for Tati and for the future.
