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“Restore the window and return to bed. Sleep well. No one shall interfere with you tonight. I promise.” Dominique propels herself out the window and vanishes from sight.

With an irritated flick of her wrist, Ágota repairs the window and tosses her bag on the floor. “So that is that. We are trapped.”

“Until tomorrow,” I remind her.

Ágota picks up the bed covers and flings them onto the slightly askew bed. “Sleep, Erjy. In the morning we leave to never return. I promise.”

I remove my cloak and join her on the bed.

It is strange to rest next to my sister after she has so boldly lied.

We both know the truth of the matter.

One day I will return and I will be Countess Dolingen of Gratz.

Chapter 9

Awareness comes gradually and a woman’s form sharpens into focus. Her soft skin is dark and her luminous eyes are black as coal. I do not recognize the young woman leaning over the bier to brush and pin my black tresses into place. The deft fingers twisting and curling my hair tremble against my scalp. I am so cold and tormented in my agony, but her gentle ministrations lull me into a stupor. She smells deliciously of fear and life. I want to touch her and feel her warmth, but I am too weak to lift my arms. Tears tremble on the edges of my eyelids. The tenderness of her hands reminds me of another time, another place.

“Where is he?” I ask, my voice cracking due to my dry throat.

“Outside,” she answers.

“You are one of his gypsies,” I state.

Bristling at my insinuation that she belongs to Vlad, her spine straightens

The gypsies often visited my mother when their caravans passed by our home. Though they claimed to be from Egypt, my mother told me they kept their true origins a secret. My beloved mother had an affinity for the swarthy people in their caravans and they for her.

Vlad, though, regards them with disdain and enslaves them to do his bidding with magic and trickery. The young woman with the large dark eyes is doomed and I wonder if she understands this truth.

Finishing my hair, she picks up a damp cloth to run it over my hand. My frail fingers are feeble against her grip, but her warm skin is soothing. I am surprised when she carefully runs the edge of the cloth under my sharp nails. Surely she must know the brown flakes are all that remains of a previous victim. Cleaning away the dried blood, she does not flinch from her duty.

“What is your name?” I ask.

“Magdala.” There is the slightest tremor in her voice.

She rinses the cloth in a basin and starts to wash my other hand.

“When... when did he capture you?”

“We serve him because he offered us gold. A season of servitude and we will be able to travel on to better lives.”

The desperation to believe the good fortune of her clan weighs in her words. I do not mock her with laughter, but grant her a sorrowful smile of understanding. I, too, was once seduced by dreams of a grander life.

“You know what he is,” I say. “What I am.”

“Yes, but there are many monsters in the world.”

“Have you seen many?”

Magdala somberly nods. “Sometimes it is best to make deals with them instead of fighting or fleeing if you wish to survive.”

I almost chuckle at her naiveté. I, too, had once believed as she does. Her eyes drift to the stake that skewers my body. I bristle with fleeting anger, her judgment unwanted, yet correct. There had been a time when I’d placated monsters instead of fighting or absconding. When at last I did fight back, I sealed my fate.

Magdala is gentle with my hands, which I appreciate. With very little difficulty, because my limbs are withered, she removes my rings and washes them in her basin. Though her people are believed to be thieves, even if tempted, she will not steal from me. Vlad looms close by and she will not dare risk his wrath. I flinch when she returns the gold ring with a large ruby to my finger. I despise this particular gift from Vlad. Though originally given as a token of love, it later became a symbol of his domination.

At last, she sets the basin aside. I expect her to depart, but instead, she sets a sewing basket next to me on the bier. Vlad must despair observing me in such a terrible state to have set her to this task. With delicate stitches, she repairs my gown. I watch her in the torchlight admiring her handiwo