“Robin!” I recognize one of the mothers of the children I’ve befriended—Elena, I think her name is—who beams at me and comes over to clasp my hands. “You are good for the lady,” she says in English. “She listens now.”
Heat floods my face. “Oh, I don’t think?—”
“She is better now,” Elena continues. “She pays for school repairs.” She puts a hand on her heart and nods, smiling. “You are good for her.”
I try to laugh it off as Elena moves away, but Stefan’s sharp gaze is fixed on me with new interest. “What does she mean, Robin? School repairs?”
“Nothing, really,” I say quickly. “Eva just…I mentioned that the school looked like it needed some work.”
Stefan’s eyebrows rise. “And she took it upon herself to fund repairs?”
“I guess.” I fidget with the hem of my coat, wishing Elena hadn’t said anything.
But Stefan is looking at me with a new intensity that makes me want to squirm. “Perhaps you were right,” he says at last. “People can change.”
We order lunch and find a table. Stefan makes easy conversation with the locals, switching into the local dialect. Everyone seems comfortable with him—more comfortable than they were with Eva, I realize. With her, there’s respect tinged with fear. With Stefan, there’s warmth.
“What are they saying?” I ask, after the third person gestures to his face.
With a slightly sad smile, Stefan says, “They are saying how much I look like my older brother. And how much they miss him.”
As we eat, I find myself relaxing again. Stefan tells stories about the village, about his own childhood here with Zoltan, about the changes he’s seen over the years. He’s witty, a goodconversationalist, and for a little while, I can forget about Eva’s cold dismissal this morning.
But then, as we’re finishing our meal, Stefan leans back in his chair and studies me with those too-perceptive eyes.
“The villagers seem fond of you,” he observes.
“They’re kind people,” I say carefully.
“And Eva? How does she feel about your popularity?”
There’s something in his tone that feels like a test. “We don’t really discuss village politics.”
Stefan laughs. “I can’t imagine it would interest her much, no. Though I find it fascinating that she’s suddenly taken an interest in community improvements. Very unlike her.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I just nod and take another sip of my drink.
On the way back to the castle, Stefan suggests we turn off to take a look at the village school. I stop short when I see it, my mouth falling open in surprise. The building I walked past just a little time ago—worn and shabby, with peeling paint and a playground that looked ready to collapse—has been completely transformed.
Fresh white paint gleams on the walls. Workers in hard hats are installing new playground equipment. Scaffolding surrounds part of the building where men are replacing roof tiles.
“Eva…” I trail off, staring at the scene. “She must have commissioned all of this work. I didn’t realize how…thorough she was being.”
Because it’s more than repairs. This is a complete renovation. New windows, new doors, a fresh coat of paint that makes the old building look bright and welcoming. Children peek through the safety fence, chattering excitedly as they watch the workers.
“It seems you do wield great influence over the lady,” Stefan says.
I try to brush it off. “I just mentioned it looked run-down. This was all Eva’s idea.”
“Was it?” Stefan’s smile is enigmatic. “How generous of her.”
But as we continue up the road toward the castle, his words echo in my head.How generous of her. Eva is many things, but being generous for the sake of it doesn’t seem like her. She is free with her money—but only when it benefits her.
Is Eva trying to buy my affections through good works?
The thought makes me feel sick, because if that’s true, theneverythingbetween us is just transaction after transaction.
The castle looms ahead of us, its dark towers stark against the sky. As we approach the main gate, I feel the weight of it settling on my shoulders again—all that stone and shadow and secrets. The freedom I felt in the village evaporates, replaced by the familiar sense of being trapped.
