by Kit Tunstall
“How so?”
“I live at Castle Draganescu, Anca. I serve your father, as do all Corsovan citizens. In return, he shepherds and guides us. He is the Protector of our way of life.”
She shook her head, confused by his flowery speech. “I don’t understand.”
“Your father is the ruler of Corsova. Your mother is the queen, living in exile by her own choice. You are heir to the throne.”
Silence filled the compartment as he stopped speaking. Anca knew her mouth had dropped open, but she couldn’t seem to concentrate enough to close it. Her eyes felt as though they would bug out of their sockets. She shook her head. “Uh…”
“Anca?” His tone was full of concern.
She shook her head more vigorously. “That’s crazy.” There was a shrill edge to her voice, and she struggled to restrain it. “I’m not the heir to anything. I own a tea shop, for goodness’ sakes.”
Demi spread his hands apart in a gesture of helplessness. “That may be, but you are also the princess of Corsova, and the next in line for the throne.” He frowned. “I can’t believe Katrine never told you.”
A sharp laugh escaped her. “Mother said my father was a shepherd.” The laugh changed to a giggle that held a note of hysteria. “I guess she wasn’t lying completely,” Anca said when the urge to laugh faded.
His frown deepened. “I’m certain she had reasons for not telling you.”
She shrugged, unable to come up with one or deal with what she had just learned.
“It’s better you learn this now, no?”
“No!” She didn’t have to hesitate. “I don’t want this kind of burden. Jesus, Demi, don’t you think it’s stressful enough to meet my father for the first time, without knowing about this added BS?”
He shook his head. “BS?”
“Bullshit,” she said very clearly.
“What does bull excrement have to do with the situation?”
The urge to laugh almost overwhelmed her again, but Anca feared her control was so tenuous that if she gave in, it would never stop. She would end up booked into a room at some Eastern European sanitarium. “Never mind,” she said impatiently. “It’s just a figure of speech.”
“Ah.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I hope you don’t think I’m here to take over for my father, or some such nonsense. I don’t want any part of this.”
“But—“
Anca pressed on. “I’ve come to meet this Valdemeer, and then I’m going home. Back to New York, back to my mother, back to my shop, and back to my real life.”
Demi scowled. “What of your duty to your people?”
“I have no people. The closest thing to ‘my people’ is the neighborhood watch program.” She snorted. “I didn’t know anything about this. If you’d been honest from the start, I wouldn’t have come.”
He stiffened, and his expression bordered on angry. “I did not lie to you. I assumed your mother had told you of your birthright. Do not blame me for this shock. I had nothing to do with siring you or stealing you from your people for twenty-seven years.”
She swallowed. “I’m sorry,” she said stiffly. “It’s a shock, you know?”
He inclined his head, but his eyes still gleamed with anger. “I suggest you get over your shock. We will be in Bulgainia in ten minutes. It’s another hour from there to Castle Draganescu. I’ll expect you to be in control when you meet your father. He doesn’t need to be upset the first night he finally gets to meet you.”
Anca opened her mouth to protest.
“You can tell him of your objections later, but they should be directed toward him.” Demi sighed. “The decision of whether or not you will have to assume your duties will rest with him.”
She frowned at the stiffness in his tone. “Sorry to bother you.” She couldn’t hide the hint of hurt in her voice.
“It is no bother,” he said distantly.
She nibbled on her lip, absurdly hurt at the barrier he seemed to be erecting between them. “Well, then…” She trailed off, unable to think of anything to add.
“If you would like to freshen up, the bathroom is down the hall. It is prominently marked with a female form.”
She nodded and slid from the chair. She didn’t look at Demi as she rushed from the compartment and down the hallway. It wasn’t until she had locked herself into the small lavatory that she let her cool expression fade into one of blatant terror. Anca met her haunted brown eyes in the mirror and was amazed at how much green glowed in their depths. That only happened when she was emotional.
She ran a shaky hand through her fall of dark-brown hair, attempting to restore order to it after its dishevelment from her nap. Her thoughts weren’t on making herself more presentable though. She couldn’t stop thinking about Demi’s revelation.
What did he want from her? More importantly, what did her father want from her? What if he refused to let her go home? If he were the king, would anyone defy him to help her leave the country?
A sinking feeling hit her stomach, and she bent forward. She started shaking, and tears burned in her eyes. She had to get home. What would become of her mother and Dragan’s Whimsy if she didn’t?
Anca took a deep breath and stood up slowly. She met her eyes in the mirror again and tried to force a reassuring smile. She just needed a plan.
Gradually, an idea formed in her mind. She played it out several times, until she heard the train whistle announcing they were approaching a stop. She examined herself from head to foot, pleased to see she appeared steady. Having a plan always calmed her.
She pasted on a slightly shaky smile and exited the ladies’ room. Anca couldn’t give Demi even a hint of what she planned if she hoped to succeed.
Chapter 4
Anca walked near enough to Demi not to lose her way, but not so close as to allow him to easily reach out and grab her. She scanned the platform as they stepped off the train, and was shocked by the lack of activity. There were a few people milling about, but nothing like she had seen at Gara Constanta.
She took a step onto the old wood of the platform, and it creaked under her shoes. She turned her head to eye the station, built from gray stones, with a sloped roof. A board of schedules was posted on the outside, above the window where a clerk stood, but she didn’t recognize the language.
Her attention turned to a small group hugging and crying near them. The boy they were embracing had tears shimmering in his eyes, but his posture was stiff. They faced the other set of tracks on the opposite side of the platform.
Demi must have seen her eyes on the other tracks, because he said, “The train turns around here at the capitol. It will make a circle a few miles out of town and head back to Gara Constanta.”
She looked up at him, struggling to appear disinterested. “I see. So, it does that in a short time?”
He nodded. “Just a few minutes.”
As he spoke, the train they had departed from headed down the tracks again.
Demi shifted the luggage to one arm and put his hand at her waist. “I left my car in the lot.”
“Okay.” She tensed as she felt his hand on her waist, but tried to hide her tension. Anca bit her lip, fretting over her plan. It had been contingent on her getting lost in a crowd, but there was no crowd here.
As they neared the family with the young man, Anca stepped closer to them. She knocked against his pile of luggage, sending it sprawling across the platform. She bit back a twinge of remorse when one of the cases opened and spilled its contents. She felt bad for the boy and wished she hadn’t had to do that, but what choice did she have?
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Anca exclaimed, clapping hands to her cheeks, as though hiding a blush. She turned to Demi. “We have to help.”
The family was muttering, and the boy’s hot glare fixed on her. As soon as Demi made apologies in their language, their angry expressions faded. He set down their cases and knelt to help gather their items.
Anca pretended to do the same, until De
mi was kneeling with his back turned. She got up from her semi-crouch and sprinted across the platform. She could see a sheltering stand of trees in a field across the parking lot and pumped her legs for added speed. If she could make it to the trees, she would be able to hide until the train came back through.
Once on the train, Demi wouldn’t be able to get her off it. There would be train employees and security to keep her safe. Surely, she could purchase her ticket on the train, or send one of the employees to do so for her. Once they realized she was in danger, of course.
Would Demi follow her? Anca knew he would, even as she asked herself the question. He appeared to be the loyal type and had promised her father he would bring her back with him. He wouldn’t let her escape easily.
She plunged into the stand of trees as she heard the soles of his dress shoes skidding across the parking lot. Anca cursed the twilight sky, wishing for full darkness. She moved deeper into the stand of junipers and firs. They were old, and there was little room to maneuver between them. Their proximity hampered her movements, but it made for numerous hiding places.
She came to a thick clump of bushes sheltering a spot between two trees. Anca dropped to her knees and slithered through the bushes. She attempted to still them behind her, to cover her tracks.
She huddled on the wet ground, feeling cool mud soak into the knees of her pants. Anca struggled to control her ragged breathing. She held her breath when she heard a twig snap near her location.
She continued to hold her breath, straining to hear another telltale sound from Demi. She prayed the next one would be farther from her hiding place. Her heart raced, and her head was light. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, Anca let out her breath in a low exhale. As she drew in another, she heard the rustle of leaves.
She cried out as Demi’s arm reached into the bushes and lifted her out effortlessly. She tried to jerk free from his hold on her arm, and his grip tightened. She bent forward and sank her teeth into the back of his hand.
He stiffened, but made no move to let go of her.
Anca bit down harder, until the sharp tang of blood filled her mouth. She heard his breath hiss through his teeth, but it didn’t sound like he was in pain.
A curious sensation swept through her as his blood flowed onto her tongue. Already light-headed, the forest seemed to spin around her. She attempted to move her mouth, but her teeth were hooked into his flesh.
Blood spurted into her mouth, and Anca swallowed it. The light-headed sensation faded, and a surge of renewed energy swept through her. She looked up at Demi through the veil of her lashes. He had thrown back his head, and he seemed to be in the throes of ecstasy.
With a frightened grasp, she tore her mouth free. Anca cried out when she saw the jagged tears in his skin. Her eyes fastened on the blood trickling down his hand, and she couldn’t seem to pull her gaze from it. She whimpered when Demi brought his hand to his mouth and licked away the blood.
His eyes were dark with passion when he pulled her against him. His lips were anything but tender when they claimed hers. The kiss was hot and hungry—full of urgent needs and desires.
Anca pressed her body closer to his, parting her lips eagerly to accept his tongue. She stroked hers across his, wanting to taste every inch of him. His blood was on both of their tongues, and the scent and taste filled her senses. It was like the dream.
She pushed against his tongue, trying to push hers inside his mouth. She winced when her tongue raked across her teeth. Her canine tooth punctured her tongue, and the flash of pain brought her back to herself. Anca pushed against him as she became aware of their surroundings.
She stared up at him, trying to make out his expression in the deepening twilight, trying to pretend she hadn’t just drank some of his blood and relished the experience. No! She hadn’t enjoyed it. It had been an accident. Somehow, her teeth lodged in his skin, and when the blood flooded her mouth, she had swallowed without thought. His kiss had aroused her, not tasting his blood.
“Why did you run, Anca?” His voice was hoarse with passion, and his uninjured hand shook when he brought it up to smooth his hair.
She swallowed. “I changed my mind. Please let me go home.”
“Valdemeer is expecting you.” He sounded regretful. “I swore I would bring you back.”
She began wringing her hands. “What if he won’t let me go? I don’t want to be a prisoner here.”
Demi sighed. “Your father is a good man. He only wants what’s best for you.”
She wasn’t reassured by his answer. “I want to go home. I don’t want to worry about being an heir to a kingdom. I don’t want to look over my shoulder all the time. This isn’t the way I want my life to be.”
His eyes burned with an inner light. “I will protect you with my life, Anca. Your father would do the same. You have nothing to fear.” He touched her cheek gently. “Nothing happens without a purpose.”
She frowned up at him dubiously. “You really believe that?”
“It is a tenant of our beliefs. Trust me. Come with me now and meet your father.” He held out his hand.
Anca stared down at it, reluctant to accept his hand, but afraid not to. She didn’t think he would hurt her. Her fear was deeper and less specific. Slowly, she raised her hand and grasped his. It felt as though the actions of her arm were independent from her body.
“Promise me you won’t run away again?” There was a hint of steel in his voice.
“I…” She hesitated.
“I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you are. Promise me.” He spoke firmly, and his eyes bored into hers.
She nodded. “I promise,” she heard herself say weakly.
* * * * *
The castle came into sight as Demi’s car topped the last hill. The road from the capitol to the castle was a long series of twisting curves, rising elevations, and poor roads. When she asked about the condition of the roads, Demi told her few people had vehicles, and the horses and wagons had little trouble with the rocky and uneven path.
She gasped softly when Castle Draganescu came into view. It was too dark to make out all the details, but she saw three pointed spires rising high into the sky.
Otherwise, the castle resembled a solid rectangle, with chimneys sprouting from the roof. It looked older than she could imagine, except for a rounded tower on the side that didn’t quite mesh with the older style. The stone looked newer, and it had more of a baroque appearance than most traditional Eastern European castles.
“How old is it?” she asked with awe. Why had her mother walked away from all this? She had spent years working three jobs, and all that time she could have lived the life of a queen. Had it truly been necessary for Kathryn to turn her back on her home and position to protect her child?
“About a thousand-years-old.” Demi pointed to the tower as they went down the hill. “Except the tower. It was added two hundred years ago.”
Anca’s eyebrows lifted when they neared the opened drawbridge. Two men in gray uniforms stood guard on each side of it. They waved Demi’s car through with a brisk salute.
“Is this on the tour schedule?”
He glanced at her briefly as he pulled up near the smaller main entrance—though “smaller” was a relative term, since the wooden doors blocking entrance to the castle were at least ten-foot high. “Pardon?”
“You know, the tourist stops. You could probably make enough from admissions to pave the roads.”
He shut off the engine and engaged the parking brake as the heavy doors creaked open, and four people scurried out to meet them. “We have no need—“
“Without cars, sure, but with an economic boost, everyone could afford cars.”
He sighed. “Most of us are content with our way of life.”
She sensed his annoyance with the topic and closed her mouth quickly to avoid offering any further unwanted advice. After all, what did she know of running a country? Nothing. Moreover, she wanted to keep it that way.
&n
bsp; Before she could formulate an innocuous response, the passenger door opened, and a man was bowing to her. He wore simple trousers, a cotton shirt, and a quilted vest. His garments could have fit well with any period in history during the last five hundred years. “Your Highness,” he greeted obsequiously.
She almost looked over her shoulder before she remembered she was whom he addressed. It was disconcerting to go from plain Anca to something so pretentious. However, she restrained the urge to tell him to use her first name. She imagined the lack of protocol would shock him. “Hello,” she said instead, with a shaky smile. When in Rome, er, Corsova…
He offered his hand to assist her from the car. She took it and slid out. He immediately dropped his light hold and bowed again.
“Thanks.”
A woman who had remained a few steps away surged forward. She was middle-aged, with a heavy frame, curling gray-black hair, and a simple cotton tunic and pants. She curtsied with surprising grace, and her generous bosom threatened to spill from the top of her low-cut shirt. “Welcome, m’lady. His Majesty eagerly awaits news of your arrival.”
“I’m here,” she said, trying not to sound flustered. If the groveling was any indication of what she could expect for the next few days, she would go insane. Anca didn’t realize how stiff she was until she felt the light touch of Demi’s hand at her waist.
“This is Luiza, the cook.” He turned slightly to the man who had greeted her. “This is Geza, the steward.” He waved the other two servants nearer. The girl, with her thick, dark hair bound in a bun, curtsied when Demi’s eyes rested on her. “Helena will be your personal attendant during your stay.”
The other man bowed once at the waist when Demi turned to him. His eyes glinted with an unidentifiable emotion, and his expression was stern. “Petru is in charge of security here at the castle.”
Anca didn’t know whether to curtsey in return, incline her head imperiously, or ignore the greetings. In the end, she smiled and said a soft, “Hello.”
Demi glanced down at the muddy knees of her slacks. “You will no doubt wish to change before meeting His Majesty. I will show you to your rooms.” He nodded to Geza. “Please bring up the princess’s luggage.”
