Page 73

Violeta rolled her eyes. “Candles are hardly as decorative.”

“Winter’s Eve is not about celebration,” he said. “It is about surviving the night.”

She laughed. “Tonight is no different than any other. We have only given it a name.”

“You are wrong,” he said, his playfulness gone, and Violeta looked stricken by the sudden change.

“In Lara, this night is feared,” I explained quickly, glaring at Killian. “We do very similar things—hang the blackthorn and the thistle. We even burn garlic and candles all night, but it is for survival, not celebration.”

“What are you afraid of?” Vesna asked.

“Demons,” I said.

After that, the jovial and carefree conversation was replaced by a grim silence. It weighed on me and gave way to thoughts I’d hoped to keep at a distance, at least until Adrian returned safe, but now I thought of Ivka and Dracul and his men we had yet to find. I thought of the mortals, all men and boys, who had died with bleeding eyes. There was no pattern to the plague, just as there had been no pattern to the crimson mist, which made me think that Lothian and Zann were right, and perhaps it had morphed into this deadly disease.

“Not bad,” said Killian, drawing me from my thoughts. I had stopped working on my lantern, and I knew he had noticed. I was glad for his comment because it brought me back to myself.

“Superior work, my queen,” said Violeta.

“You don’t have to lie,” said Killian.

“You are only jealous,” I said.

“Yes, Commander,” said Violeta. “And jealousy is not attractive.”

When we were finished, Violeta and Vesna began to gather the lanterns by a string, which they had tied to the top of each one as they prepared to take them into Cel Ceredi.

“Lovely work,” said Cyril, giving a toothy grin.

“And you, Cyril,” I said, admiring the perfect ovals of dough he had formed on two large pans. “I cannot wait to taste.”

“You shall have the first bite, my queen.”

I smiled, though his comment made me shudder, and I hated that a discussion about bread made me think of aufhocker teeth sinking into my skin.

“Will you come with us to Cel Ceredi, my queen?” Violeta asked.

I hesitated, recalling Adrian’s warning about staying within the castle walls.

“It is almost nightfall,” Killian said, looking uncertain.

“Then we should hurry,” said Violeta, undeterred. “Before the ghosts come out!”

“There are far more monstrous creatures to worry about, Violeta,” I said, and her cheeks reddened at my mild reprimand. “Killian is right. We can go, but we must return to the castle before full dark.”

With the lanterns gathered, we descended into Cel Ceredi.

Killian and I walked together while Violeta and Vesna moved ahead of us, arm in arm. Now and then, a burst of laughter bubbled from the lips of one or the other.

“Any word from Gavriel on Lara?” Killian asked.

“None,” I said. “Adrian does not seem to be concerned.”

The snow crunched beneath our feet as we walked a few more paces in silence.

“But are you concerned?” he asked.

I considered his question. “I fear I will never be able to return to Lara as their queen.”