talk about the things I love—history, philosophy, and ideas—now that Father Sandu’s gone? But it’s probably the right thing to do.”
There was a silence. As it drew out, I imagined the sounds that might once have filled such an awkward pause and never would again: Gogu’s wry comments, which only I could detect; his little splashing noises in the bath bowl; the soft thump as he landed on the pillow, ready for good-nights and sleep.
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“We do need to go once more, if we can,” I said as tears began to roll down my cheeks again. “I think we have to let Father know what’s happening here. The only way I’m going to get a letter past Cezar is to ask for help in the Other Kingdom.”
I would take Grigori up on his offer. I thought he was strong enough to look after himself from here to Constan?ta and back.
“What will happen after that, I don’t know. Paula may be right. Maybe it is the end.”
As we lay in bed later, Tati reached out under the quilt and took my hand in her own. Hers was cold as a wraith’s. “Jena?”
she whispered. “I’m sorry you’re so sad.”
My cheek was against the pillow, on the spot where Gogu always slept. The linen had been almost dry; I was wetting it anew with tears. I said nothing. It troubled me that when we had spoken of ending our visits to the Other Kingdom, Tati had raised no objections. I wondered what she saw in her own future. From where I lay, I could see her hair spread across her pillow like a dark shawl, the pale expanse of her neck exposed.
I shut my eyes. If there was evidence there, a mark on her pearly skin, I was not ready to see it—not brave enough to accept what it might mean. The truth was, at Dark of the Moon, Sorrow had seemed to be a good person, as kind and thoughtful as Tati had always said he was. I did not want him to be one of
“Jena?”
“Mmm?”
“If Ileana won’t help about Sorrow, I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t go on without him. I just can’t.”
It seemed an enormous effort to answer. All I wanted to do 296
was curl up into a ball with my misery. I hated Cezar. I hated fate for making Father ill and for not sending anyone to help us.
I hated Dr?agu?ta most of all, for twisting my dearest friend into a thing to be feared and loathed. I hated myself for still loving him.
“We just might have to go on, Tati,” I said. “There might be no choice.” I thought of a future in which Cezar was master of both Varful cu Negur?a and Piscul Dracului. That future seemed to be almost upon us. Without Gogu, I wasn’t sure whether I would be strong enough to protect my sisters—
strong enough to act as Father would wish.
“There’s always a choice, Jena.” Tati closed her eyes. “Even giving up is a kind of choice.”
As Full Moon approached, Cezar’s mood deteriorated. He could often be heard yelling at the guards, who had evidently been chosen for both their intimidating size and their reluctance to engage in conversation. I wondered that he had anything to chide them about, since they seemed utterly obedient to his rule. They slept out in the barn.
Petru, displeased with the new arrangements, grew still more taciturn. Florica was distracted and fearful. The five of us applied ourselves to helping her in the kitchen and around the castle and to keeping out of Cezar’s way. He was furious, and Petru had his own theory as to the cause. “Can’t find a taker for this job he’s thought up,” he muttered as I passed him in the hallway. “Nobody wants to venture into the other realm. All too frightened of the Night People. A reward’s no good to you if you’re dead.”
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Iulia had become unusually quiet and often had red eyes.
We were all uneasy at the presence of armed minders in our house, but this seemed something more.
“It’s R?azvan,” Paula told me when Iulia had burst into tears over a trivial matter and rushed out of the room for the tenth time in a week. “She’s upset that he left so suddenly.”
“R?azvan?” I stared at her. “She liked him that much?” I had noticed the boys’ admiring glances at Iulia, and thought them inappropriate. My sister looked like a woman, but she was only in her fourteenth year—surely too young for such attentions. I had seen, later, how kind Daniel and R?azvan were to my younger sisters. All the same, this was a surprise.
“He has a sister Iulia’s age, and his father keeps a stable full of fine riding horses,” Paula informed me. “He half invited her to visit in the summer; she was really excited about it. Now that’s all changed. The boys left without saying goodbye, and Cezar’s not letting us go anywhere, let alone all the way to R?azvan’s father’s estate—it’s on the other side of Bra?sov.”
“Why didn’t Iulia tell me?”
Paula regarded me a little owlishly. “You’ve been wrapped up in your own misery, Jena,” she said. “With you brooding over Gogu, and Tati counting the minutes until Full Moon, Iulia’s got nobody to confide in except me. And Stela’s got nobody to be a mother to her except me. She’s frightened. She can’t understand why all these men are suddenly hanging around. It would actually be quite nice if you went back to taking a bit more notice of the rest of us.”
Her words were a slap in the face. Was this really true? In my misery over Gogu and my concern to keep Piscul Dracului 298
and the Other Kingdom safe, had I forgotten that my sisters, too, were unhappy? “I’m sorry,” I said, tears welling in my eyes.
“It’s just that I miss him so much.”
“All the same,” Paula said, “you could make a bit of an effort.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Talk to Iulia. Make some time for Stela. Tati doesn’t tell her stories and play with her the way she used to, and Stela thinks that’s somehow her fault. I wish Tati would be herself again. She doesn’t just look thin, she looks really
