Wildwood Dancing

336

“Oh, God.” The strange things Cezar sometimes said began to make a kind of sense: the mutterings about promises that were shams, about gifts that turned to damage those who received them. I understood, at last, his powerful hatred of Dr?agu?ta. “That was . . . unspeakably cruel. Without that, he might have grown up to be a good man.”

“The choice was not mine. It was Cezar’s. Every choice he has made, these ten years past, has been his own. Now he has run out of choices. He has lost his chance to rule the valley. He has lost his brother’s love, and yours. His father is gone. His mother has done her best to love him, but her feelings for this son have always lacked the warmth she turned on Costi, her adored eldest.” She turned her head, snapping her fingers to summon the snake to her.

“Please don’t go yet,” I begged. “The mirror—why that image in the mirror?”

“The monster? Not my doing,” Dr?agu?ta said dismissively.

“Hers, I imagine: Anastasia’s. All it would have taken was for you to have a moment of doubt, a moment when you mistrusted your instincts. That moment of weakness would have allowed her control of the image. Such creatures as she take delight in tormenting folk, Jena. She wanted to send you nightmares—to make you squirm.”

“Why?”

“Oh, I imagine she was jealous. She didn’t like the way her brother, if brother he can be called, was looking at you. She didn’t take kindly to his partiality to you.”

“Tadeusz was never interested in me. She told me so. She told me very plainly that I was beneath his notice.”

337

“Exactly. She told you. He never said anything of the kind, I imagine. And since you are bidding the Other Kingdom farewell tonight, you won’t be getting the opportunity to ask him. Perhaps you are not such a plain, unattractive thing as you imagine, Jena. You might consider why, with two eligible young men on one estate and a family of five girls on the next, both men fell in love with the same sister: not lovely Tati or blossoming Iulia, but flat-chested, bushy-haired, opinionated Jena.”

“In love? Cezar doesn’t know what love is. As for Tadeusz . . .” I faltered. I had allowed the cruel logic of Anastasia’s words to overrule what I sensed: that the leader of the Night People was indeed drawn to me. I remembered Tadeusz telling me that his kind were misunderstood; that superstition had painted them darker than they really were. I wondered if there was any truth in that. I’d never get the chance to find out now. “And if Costi felt any love for me when he was a frog,” I went on, “it will all be gone after what’s happened. How could he love someone who’s shown such a lack of trust? If only he’d had his voice as soon as he changed back. He could have told me who he was and what had happened to him, and none of this misunderstanding need have happened —”

The witch cleared her throat, and I fell silent. “You have a short memory,” Dr?agu?ta said. “Trust your instincts, I seem to recall advising you. But did you listen? It would seem not. He was your dearest friend, and in your heart you knew it. You knew it from the moment you saw him sprawled out on the shore—you knew it as he walked through your dreams and every part of 338

you yearned for his touch. But you wouldn’t let yourself trust those feelings, would you? I couldn’t give the boy back his voice straightaway, Jena. That would have made things too easy for both of you. Even now, you need more time to learn what love really means.”

“Time to do what?” My voice came out tear-choked and harsh. “He just walked away. I don’t know how to mend things now.”

“I can’t help you with that,” Dr?agu?ta said briskly. “Now are we done here? It’s not my habit to answer so many questions. I hope you don’t have any more; I doubt if I’m up to it.”

I swallowed a further plea for help. I had not forgotten who she was, or what she could do.

“It’s for you to sort out, Jena,” the witch said, her tone not unfriendly. “You are, in fact, highly capable and full of good-will. You can do it.” The white snake slid up her arm to twine around her shoulders. She picked up her staff, which had been lying in the bushes. “Goodbye, Jena,” she said. “Hurry back.

Your sisters are getting cold.”

“Goodbye,” I said as she slipped away, vanishing within moments. “Thank you for giving me the truth.”

There was a diminishing cackle, high-pitched and scornful, then silence.

At the top of the winding stair my sisters were waiting, white-faced and silent. Paula had the lantern that we had left ready at the foot of the stairs when we came down, and Stela was carrying the bundle. Tati was sitting on the ground with her back against the portal, her eyes shut.

339

“She says she’s not coming,” said Iulia, who was crouched by Tati with a hand on her shoulder.

“Tati!” I said sharply, kneeling down and touching my sister’s wan cheek. “Tati, wake up! Put your hand on the door—

come on!”

“Not going . . . must wait . . . Sorrow . . . ,” she muttered.

“Tati,” said Paula, “we can’t get home unless you help us.

We’ll all be trapped here in the middle. Come on! Sorrow’s going to be away for a whole month.” I saw in her face the unspoken thought: And probably far longer—that’s if he ever gets back. The quest had seemed formidable to me, and I had never even heard of Ain Jalut or Zaradok.

Tati opened her eyes. “I’m not going,” she whispered. “I’m waiting for him here.”

It sounded like nonsense. But something deep inside me had changed tonight. Now I could understand so well what she was feeling: the longing, the grief, the fragile hope. “Tati,” I said, “if you truly love Sorrow and he loves you, you need to do what Ileana asked you to do: to keep faith until he achieves the quest. Let us go home, and we’ll help you get through the wait until next Full Moon. Remember what you said: love and loyalty, truth and trust? You can trust your family.”