Wildwood Dancing

know Cezar’s been asking her questions. She’s really upset, Jena. I heard her say something about leaving Piscul Dracului. I think you’d better come.”

In the kitchen, Florica was shaping rolls on the table while Stela made little dogs and gnomes and trees out of the scraps.

Our housekeeper’s distress was obvious. Her eyes were red and swollen and she would not look up at me, even when I spoke to her by name. As she lifted a roll from the table to the tray, I could see her hands shaking. Iulia, who was feeding wood into the stove, gave me a meaningful look as I came in. They were all expecting me to put things right. It was alarming that my family still had such faith in my ability to solve problems—thus far, I had been a woeful failure.

“Florica,” I said, coming over to sit at the table, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Mistress Jenica.” The formality of this address told me that something was badly amiss.

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“Come on, Florica, tell me. You’ve been crying. It is something.”

Florica muttered a few words about not getting us into trouble and not making things any worse. A moment later she sat down abruptly, her shoulders shaking.

“He said . . .”

“What, Florica?”

“Master Cezar’s been asking questions around the valley—

trying to find out about things so he can go ahead with these plans of his. Someone mentioned Full Moon to him, Jena—told him that was a time when barriers were open. He’s taken it into his head that you and Mistress Tati know something you’re not telling him.”

“Why would this upset you so much, Florica?” I had taken over the task of forming the dough into rolls while Iulia had started brewing tea. Stela put a small arm around Florica’s shoulders.

“He said if we didn’t tell him everything we knew, he’d see that we lost our places here. He said we were too old to work.

I’ve been here since I was fifteen, Mistress Jena. Petru’s been in the valley even longer. We’ve given good service all our lives.

Piscul Dracului is our home. And Ivan has enough mouths to feed already—we can’t expect him to take us in as well. Master Cezar wouldn’t really send us away, would he?”

“Father’s still the head of this household,” I told her firmly.

“You know he’d never send you or Petru away. You belong here.

Florica, if you’ve told Cezar something, you’d better let us know what it was.”

“He asked about Full Moon: whether you went out at 257

night, whether there had been folk hanging about in the woods, odd folk. I said no, that Full Moon was a night when you girls kept to your bedchamber, and that there was never a peep out of you, although you always seemed tired the next morning. I shouldn’t have told him that. I could see the look on his face. He’s going to use it against you—against all of us. Such men have no understanding of the old things.”

“Florica?” asked Paula in a whisper. “You know, don’t you?”

“Hush,” I said quickly, seeing the look on our housekeeper’s face, a look of sheer terror. “We won’t speak of that. Florica, what’s done is done: don’t feel guilty about it. If there’s anyone who should feel guilty it’s Cezar, for browbeating you like that. Tell Petru that if Cezar tries to make you leave, it’ll be over my dead body.”

“You’re only a young thing, Jena. How can you do it? If your father never comes back—”

“He will come back.” I had seen Stela’s face. “He’s just not sending letters, because of the winter. In springtime everything will be back to normal. And I will stop Cezar from doing what he threatened. He can’t send you away. It’s not right.”

I went straight to find Cezar, knowing that the longer I delayed the confrontation, the harder it was going to be. He was in Father’s workroom, but he did not seem to be doing anything in particular. He was simply sitting at the desk, brooding. I could not look at him without remembering that kiss—and before I had even begun to speak, I was afraid.

“Jena,” Cezar said coolly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

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Pleasure? Not for us. Gogu was sitting on my shoulder. Not wanting to draw undue attention to him, I left him there.

“I need to ask you about something, Cezar.”

“Sit down, Jena. What is it?” There was a little smile on his face, as if he had a secret.

“I’ve just spoken to Florica. She and Petru say you threatened to turn them out of Piscul Dracului if they didn’t answer your questions—questions about me and my sisters. Is that true?”

Cezar leaned back in his chair, arms folded, eyes on my face. “You need younger staff here,” he said mildly. “No wonder you got into such difficulty this winter. I know girls are soft-hearted and become attached to their old servants, but really, Jena, those two are long past being useful to you. They should be retired, like worn-out horses put to pasture. Don’t look like that; it’s a perfectly practical suggestion. They’ve a grandson in the settlement, haven’t they? Let their own provide for them.”

“If it is only a suggestion, not an order, that’s all right,” I said. “Florica and Petru are part of our family. They’re not going anywhere—not while I’m in charge here.”

He looked at me as if waiting for me to realize that I was speaking nonsense.

“Do I need to tell you again that my father has not died, and that he asked me and Tati to oversee things at Piscul Dracului until he came back?” I tried to keep my voice calm. “You don’t seem to have recognized that yet, Cezar. Nobody asked you to take over the funds. Nobody asked you to move in here. Nobody asked you to ban me