Yet, I can endure his sour presence for I am flush with blood and life and restored to my former self. The taste of blood, warm and coppery, lingers on my tongue, and I long for more even though I drank until gorged. The exhilaration of the hunt, the delight of the kill, and the pleasure of the feast are aspects of my nature that are denied by my entombment. My little interlude with Magdala has assuaged some of these longings, but if I were set free, I could easily consume a small village.
Magdala’s body is draped over mine. I relish the last bit of warmth left in her flesh. I miss the heat of a human body and the pleasant memories it stirs within me of the many nights I slept beside my sister until Ágota finally ousted me from her bed. Those days are long gone and Magdala’s body is growing chill. I slip her small sewing shears under the folds of my dress before tossing her body onto the floor. The crack of her skull against the stone floor reverberates through the mausoleum.
“I drank her to a husk,” I say aloud. “That is why you sent her, is it not? To make me presentable and beautiful? You cannot bear to see the results of my imprisonment even though you have done this to me.”
“This is of your own doing,” a precious voice answers.
“Cneajna,” I gasp, my freshly beating heart thrumming ever faster. I stretch out my hand to the patch of darkness. “Vlad has brought you to me at last.”
Vlad Dracula’s power shifts the shadows to reveal his tall, muscular frame beside my other love’s lithe beauty. Cneajna’s face is dear to my heart. I drink in the beauty of her high arched brows, sapphire-blue eyes, delicate cheekbones, and lush mouth. It has been so long since I last beheld her beauty and my passion for her inflames my flesh. How I long to hold her close!
While Vlad is formidable in black evening attire with a dark red vest under his long coat, Cneajna wears a shimmering white gown under a thick pale blue velvet cloak. With her golden hair arranged elegantly on her head in a mass of braids and curls, she resembles a modern aristocrat with her small, glittering tiara. In the castle, Vlad insists that his Brides dress as concubines. Therefore, her attire indicates that her status has been elevated in the absence of Lady Glynis Wright. Vlad only allows his current favorite Bride to wear modern clothing when accompanying him in public.
Tilting her head upward to gaze at Vlad, she gives him a questioning look.
He responds with a sharp nod.
With a delighted smile upon her lips, Cneajna hurries to the bier in a rush of silken petticoats, the heels of her slippers tapping against the floor. Her gloved fingers grasp my hand and she leans over me. Eyes glittering with tears, she chokes back a sob.
“Dearest Erzsébet,” she whispers before bending down to press her soft lips to mine.
My mouth catches hers in an ardent kiss and the taste of her lips is as sweet as I remember.
When we part, she presses her brow to mine, and whispers, “Beg for forgiveness and return to me. Let us be as we once were long ago.”
I relish the feel of her delicate skin against mine, which only makes my refusal that much more difficult. I lament that I must deny her request for I do miss those nights when the three of us were united in our desire for blood, conquest, and each other. I touch the soft golden curls framing her face and my heart stutters. We’d spent so many years together, but now all is lost.
“Erzsébet, please,” she begs.
“I cannot,” I answer, my words hoarse with dismay.
Drawing away, she pierces me with her fragile expression. “Erzsébet, why do you torment us? It has been long enough now. How much longer must you stand against our husband?”
The powdery scent of her cosmetics reminds me of the many times we had carefully applied rouge and powder to each other’s faces since we lack a reflection. We had disguised our ethereal beauty in order to present a more human appearance to our prey before we ventured out to hunt among the wealthy of society. Cneajna is my weakness. Vlad knows this to be true. I can feel his gaze, heavy with consternation and hope. He believes she can break me. I will not bow to him.
“Though I love you and miss you, my dearest, I must stand against him.”
It wounds me to see the pain in her gaze, for in her estimation, I am the cause of my imprisonment, not Vlad. Despite my great efforts, she has never fully grasped why I set myself against Vlad. It grieves me that she regards me as the one who destroyed the life we once lived together. I doubt she will ever see the truth.
“Why must you both be so stubborn? I miss you! Your absence weighs heavily on me! The castle feels so empty without you. Elina and Ariana are not like us. They are peasants. And that other one—that red-headed devil—betrayed me.” Cneajna’s loveliness gives way to a hard, fierce mask of anger, and she casts a baleful look in Vlad’s direction. “He wanted her. When I sensed that her rebelliousness would never abate, I warned him. Of course, he would not listen to my admonitions. I attempted to restrain her temperament, but failed.”
“She is gone now,” I remind Cneajna, my fingers caressing her hand. “You are still at his side. You are the First.” The title means so much to her. She clings to it whenever one of Vlad’s new Brides becomes his favorite. Of course, most of them are stored in the walls of this mausoleum while she remains at his side. Despite his cruelty, he cannot quite bring himself to completely turn away from Cneajna.
Taking my hand, she presses a kiss to my palm. “I wish for you to be at my side again. Ask his forgiveness. Be restored to your position.”
I close my eyes so I will not witness her sorrow when I deny her appeal with a shake of my head. I cannot relent. I will not subjugate myself to Vlad. I fought for many years to be the master of my own life. Though I was willing to share it with Vlad, I was never inclined to be his slave.
“Please, Erzsébet. How many years has it been? Have you not proven your point?”
“What is my point?” I ask her.
“To… to…” She flounders. “I am uncertain. I have never understood your defiance. You love him. You have said so, yet you refuse to return to his side.”
With a weary sigh, I cradle her han
d against my bosom. “I would rather lie here than be his slave.”
“Not his slave. His Bride.”