“Now, Miss Neu—Lou,” Mr. Arkady said in a reasonable voice. “And please, call me Theo, but you really must understand that this is going to be very dangerous, and—”
Dacia decided that it was her turn to interrupt. “Dangerous? Because our family will be there? Isn’t that who Mihai will be using as his soldiers? Our cousins, our uncles, our grandmother, Lou’s mother?”
“Hmm.” Mr. Arkady—Theo, now—seemed rather at a loss. “That is true, but . . .”
“Didn’t you just say you needed our help?” Lou put in.
“Er, yes,” Lord Johnny said. “But Dacia, you and Miss . . . Lou have been raised as young ladies, while every other member of your family, including Miss Lou’s mother, has been raised to be a fighter.”
“I believe that I have clearly proven some usefulness in this endeavor,” Lou said with a certain amount of asperity.
“Indeed you have,” Theo said warmly. “But I agree with John now: Sinaia will be too dangerous for you. We will find something else for you to do. Here.”
Dacia leaned across the map to stare into the Turkish man’s eyes.
“I’d like to see you try to stop us from coming,” she said in a low voice.
He looked startled, but not, Dacia was relieved to see, disgusted or afraid. Instead he seemed to rather appreciate her ferocity and resolve. He looked at Lord Johnny, who gave a faint sigh of resignation.
“I will telephone Their Majesties,” Lord Johnny said. “And some of our colleagues. Then we’ll drive to Sinaia.”
“Very well,” Dacia said, inclining her head in a gracious nod. “Shall we order tea in the meantime? I have no idea when we will have another chance to eat.”
She was ravenous, suddenly. And why not? It had been more than a day since she had eaten more than a bite of toast, a mouthful of tea. She felt her stomach start to grumble, and repressed it with stern force of will.
“An excellent idea,” Theo said, smiling at her. “It is the way of the soldier on campaign, to eat when you can eat, rest when you can rest. You will make a fine addition to our group.”
Lord Johnny made a garbled noise as though he were repressing a protest with his own force of will, and then stomped to the door of the hotel suite. “I’ll have something sent up,” he muttered, and then stomped out.
The line was back between Lou’s brows, but Theo just laughed.
“He will come around,” he assured them. “He likes to get his way, but he won’t stomp about for very long if he doesn’t.”
“Well, I should hope not,” Dacia said. “Pouting is such unbecoming behavior in a man.”
16 June 1897
CASTELUL PELES
“I believe you,” King Carol said, but he looked uncomfortable saying it. “I believe you, yet we’ve seen no sign of anything unusual.” He leaned back in his chair, looking tired. “If Mihai is planning an attack, he’ll need more than just a handful of Florescu men to support him. He’ll need an army, which he hasn’t got.”
Lou’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she almost smoothed them down with her hand. She had a raging headache, and it was painful just to blink her eyes.
She had never been prone to headaches before, and there was something ominous in getting one now. When she’d mentioned it to Dacia on their way into the palace, however, Dacia had assured her it was just the lingering effect of two days’ excitement.
“Do you . . . spy on them?” Lou asked when she had her face under control.
“We have had Mihai watched,” the king admitted. “In the past, the Dracula family has been more of a curiosity than anything else. They pay taxes and give money to the church . . . the very model of modern Romanian nobility!
“But then Mihai turned eighteen, and suddenly he was everywhere: a private box at the opera, hosting balls, attending the parties of every notable family in Bucharest. The Draculas are usually more reclusive.
“Mihai became well known not only for his social attendance, but for his opinions. Nothing treasonous,” the king said as Dacia started to ask. “At least not on the surface. Just a sort of . . . knowing tone, as if he were supervising my rule. At one point he reportedly said that he was withholding judgment on a law, as if it were his duty to rate my legislation.”
“Cheeky,” Dacia commented, and everyone looked at her. She waved a slender hand in front of her face. “Come now, I can admire his sheer bravado! Even if I do want his head on a platter by tomorrow morning.”
She set down her tea and took a small sandwich. Lou had convinced Dacia that she would feel gauche wearing a traditional gown to the palace, and was glad that Dacia had listened to her. Properly corseted and swathed in a finely striped blue poplin and delicate ivory lace, Dacia looked much more her old self, giving Lou one less thing to worry about, so at least she knew Dacia wasn’t the cause of her headache.
“The first time I met Mihai,” the king continued, “he brought up Vlad Tepes twice during our fifteen-minute interview.” King Carol looked at them, to see if they understood, and they all nodded, except for Lou, who feared her head might fall right off if she moved it.
“Take this,” said a voice in her ear, and Lou jumped and nearly tumbled off the stiff little sofa where she was sitting with Dacia.
“Goodness!” Dacia clutched at the lacy collar of her gown, dropping her sandwich.
“I am so sorry,” Theo said, embarrassed.
“I suppose that’s what I get for sitting with my back to the door,” Dacia grumbled.
“Thank you for joining us, Mr. Arkady,” the queen said. “What were you saying?”
Now Mr. Arkady looked very uncomfortable, and Lou had a moment of schadenfreude at seeing him blush. He held out something to her, a small paper packet of the sort that doctors used to dispense medicines.
“I heard that Miss Neulander had the headache, and brought her a cure,” he muttered.
“That is very kind of you,” Queen Elisabeth said warmly.
“Yes, very kind,” Lou echoed, blushing.
She reached for the small paper packet, and her hand shook. She looked around, saw that everyone was watching, and her hand shook a little more. She told herself sternly that it was only because her head was pounding so.
“Pour it into your tea,” Theo said. “And stir until it dissolves.”
Lou obediently opened the screw of paper and dumped the white powder into her tea. She put aside the paper and stirred the liquid with a hand that still shook, making her spoon rattle against the sides of the queen’s beautiful bone china. When she put the spoon down, the last of the powder having swirled away to nothingness, she looked up and saw that everyone was still watching her.
“I am sorry that you are not well,” the king said.
“It’s nothing, just a headache,” she said, putting the cup to her lips.
The china was so fine that the edge of the cup nearly cut her lip. Her aunt Ileana had a set of bone china, imported from England, and she and Dacia had once been spanked red-bottomed for breaking a cup and two saucers. The shards had been so fine and sharp that they had sliced Lou’s fingers, and Aunt Ileana had told her that it was only what she deserved.
Lou drank, grateful that the powder didn’t seem to have a flavor. The pain in her head was making her stomach roil, and she didn’t want to start gagging in front of Theo . . . or Their Majesties. She drank the whole cup while everyone looked on in concern, and Theo breathed a sigh of relief when she was done.
“I can’t recall you ever having a headache before, LouLou,” Dacia said with a frown.
“I can’t either,” Lou said. “But we’ve endured so much these past weeks, it’s hardly surprising.” She gestured with her teacup, and nearly lost her grip on it. “Whoops!”
“Allow me,” Theo said. He was still hovering at her shoulder, and now he gently t
ook the cup and saucer from her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine . . . aren’t I?”
Lou suddenly wasn’t sure how she was.
“Why is the room tilting?”
“You’re leaning,” Lord Johnny said.
“I’m sorry,” Lou said, not sure what else to say. She felt decidedly strange, but it was nothing that she could describe, other than that she couldn’t seem to straighten herself.
“I’ve got you,” Dacia said, putting her arm around Lou’s shoulders and pulling her upright. “What was in that envelope?” Her voice was enraged, and Lou cringed and almost protested that the powder hadn’t been her idea, but then she realized that Dacia’s anger was directed at Theo.
“I sent one of the Gypsies to get a headache remedy from the apothecary,” Theo said, his face ashen. “I told him specifically which apothecary, and which medicine. I’ve used it myself, I swear!”
Lord Johnny knelt down in front of Lou, staring intently into her face. “Are you sure the man brought the exact medicine you asked for?”
“I paid him well enough,” Theo protested. “And I checked the medicine; it looked the same as it always does.”
“Was he a tall man, with a double row of silver buttons on his sleeves?” the queen asked.
“Yes,” Theo said.
“Oh, no!” The queen put a hand to her bosom, and the king let out an oath. “We have suspected for some time that he is one of Mihai’s spies!”
Theo said something in Turkish and sank to his knees at Lou’s side. He took her hand, and she felt a bubble of panic in her breast. She couldn’t feel her fingers. She tried to wiggle her toes, and couldn’t feel her feet, either. When she tried to say something, her lips wouldn’t move.
The queen had risen to her feet and was clutching at the king’s arm. “We shall ring for a doctor,” she said. “Our private physician is not in Mihai’s employ, I can assure you.”
“I don’t think a physician is what she needs,” Lord Johnny said.
“But if she’s been poisoned, she must have a purge,” the king said. He tugged the bellpull before anyone could protest.
“It’s not poison, Your Majesty,” Lord Johnny said, not taking his eyes off Lou. “At least, it’s not any poison I’ve ever seen.” He held up Lou’s right hand. Her fingers were transparent.
If Lou could have moved her lips, she would have gasped. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t move anything, because she had nothing left to move.
She was becoming the Smoke, and there was no way for her to stop it.
“Lou,” Dacia said in a quavering voice. “Oh, Lou!”
Theo leaned close to Lou’s ear again, as he had when he offered her the screw of paper.
“Lou,” he said in his smooth, deep voice. “Oh, my dear Lou! You must change. You must make the change yourself. Perhaps if you take control of this, you will be able to keep yourself in control . . . and change back . . .” But his voice did not sound as though he was certain at all.
Still, it was the best advice that anyone had to offer, and Lou was rapidly losing the feeling in the rest of her body. She could only vaguely sense Dacia’s arm around her shoulders now, and she couldn’t even feel the panic bursting in her chest with any immediacy.
With an effort, Lou shut out Dacia’s increasingly hysterical demands that someone do something, and the voice of the maid who came in to ask why Their Majesties had rung, and the queen’s request for a doctor. She shut it all out, except for the sound of Theo urging her to transform herself. She thought for a moment how strange it was to find his voice so comforting now, when only weeks before he had sent her fleeing in embarrassment.
“You called me a houri,” she said, though her voice was only the faintest of breaths.
And then she was the Smoke, and Dacia was holding the bodice of her crumpled gown while Theo knelt on the floor, holding a fold of her empty skirts.
THE DIARY OF MISS DACIA VREEHOLT
17 June 1897
Lou is quite correct: dressing well is very uplifting to the spirits. I shall have to tell her; she always assumes that she is wrong. She simply has no confidence, poor dear. You’d think she was Mother’s daughter, instead of Aunt Maria’s. Or perhaps I am so strong-willed, because of Mother? Something there, I think, but never mind that now.
We traveled through the night to Sinaia, and Lou and I are freshening up in a guest room before we meet with the king and queen. Lou insisted that I put on a Parisian gown, and I find that it is very hard to feel monstrous, or sorry for one’s self, when wearing the finest Parisian mode. Also, my corset seems to help my morale, which I find surprising. I feel more protected, but also rather finished, as though now I am my best, truest self: upright and polished. It is a strange feeling.
Lou says that I must stop writing for now, Their Majesties await!
Note: I should replace the white ribbons trimming this gown with the blue ones I bought in Bucharest for Aunt Kate. She doesn’t deserve them, anyway.
PELES CASTELUL
Dacia sat and clutched at Lou’s gown in horror. Her LouLou had become the Smoke, but this time not by choice. The way Lou’s clothing draped across the sofa seemed so final, like burial clothes waiting for the body to be slipped into them for the last time. Dacia started to sob, but was cut off by a soft touch on her cheek.
Looking around, she saw Lou hovering beside her. Or what had become of Lou. It was only a column of smoke, with no features to speak of, but she knew that it was Lou.
“Are you all right, LouLou? Can you change back?” Dacia dropped the gown and held out her hands to her cousin, sniffling to keep her nose from dripping onto her bodice.
The Smoke swirled about, withdrawing from them all, and became denser. For a moment, Dacia thought she could see Lou’s figure forming in the vapor but then it dissolved again, and Lou was nothing but a vague collection of Smoke again.
“We need to find out what that powder was,” Lord Johnny said. He sounded so calm that Dacia hated him for a moment, despite the endearing way his hair fell over his eyes.
“Is there any left in the envelope?” King Carol held out an imperious hand for the little bit of paper, that small white square, folded into an envelope, which had caused so much trouble.
Theo handed it to him, his stunned expression quite raising him in Dacia’s estimation. He had to reach across Dacia to give the king the envelope, and when he had passed it over, his hand rested briefly on Dacia’s shoulder, giving her a small fluttering squeeze. She smiled at him in gratitude.
“When the doctor arrives, I will have him inspect this,” King Carol said. “I’m sure he can identify the contents.”
“I’m going back to the gates to question the Gypsy who fetched it for me,” Theo said. “For the right price, he might be willing to betray Mihai. And it’s very possible that it’s a Gypsy concoction.”
“What shall I do?” Dacia rose to her feet, looking from Lord Johnny to Theo.
The two gentlemen looked at each other, clearly nonplussed.
“You need to be on guard,” Lord Johnny said finally.
“Mihai may attempt to drug you as well,” Theo pointed out.
Dacia waved her hand, casting aside their concerns. “Meanwhile?”
“I will require your aid,” the queen said quietly.
Everyone looked at her, startled, and she smiled back.
“My husband will need to see to the guards around the palace,” she said. “And summon more soldiers, if we really are to be under attack tonight. I will meet with the physician, and so must you.” She plucked the envelope from her husband’s hand and set it on a saucer. She set Lou’s cup, saucer, and spoon on the tea table beside the envelope. “Miss Vreeholt, you can describe your cousin’s special ability better than anyone else. The physician will need to know.”
Dacia knew that the queen was simply trying to pacify her before she made a scene. But it did calm Dacia to know that she was useful. She could help the physician fi
nd the antidote. She gave the queen a genuine smile.
“Excellent,” Lord Johnny said with relief. “That will be a great help, Dacia.” He saw the queen looking at him and amended, “Miss Vreeholt.”
“Of course it will,” Dacia said tartly, her smile fading. “Now, you’d better go and contact your colleagues, or instruct the soldiers, or whatever it is you were planning on doing. We only have half a day to prepare for the new Night Attack.”
Lord Johnny took her hand, clicked his heels together, and kissed her fingers. “As you say, milady, so shall I proceed.”
“Oh, just go,” Dacia said, fighting down a slightly hysterical giggle at his courtly manner.
“So we shall,” King Carol rumbled, and Dacia quickly rose and curtsied to His Majesty. Theo tensely bid the Smoke that floated before the hearth a good-bye, and promised that he would find a cure for her, before bowing to the queen and then pressing Dacia’s hand in a comforting manner.
When the king and the two young men had gone at last, the queen sighed. “Sometimes men can be so taxing,” she said.
Dacia agreed.
The physician came in a moment later, a satchel in one hand, and his brow furrowed with concern. “What seems to be troubling Your Majesty?”
Then he noticed the strange column of smoke floating between the two sofas, and the fact that the queen appeared to be perfectly robust. He looked around the room, and licked his lips, his whole face asking the question.
“Dr. Ionescu, do you believe in the supernatural?” the queen asked as if she were making polite conversation.
“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty?”
Dacia noticed that the physician could not take his eyes off Lou, who was keeping very still.
“I asked if you believed in the supernatural,” the queen repeated.
He dragged his eyes away from Lou, looked with brief curiosity at Dacia, and then focused on his queen. “I have seen some things in my day, yes, Your Majesty. But why—I mean to say—Oh, damn it all! What is that?” He pointed a blunt finger at Lou.
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