“Go on, Countess,” he said, though his eyes were on her lips, his thumb tracing circles on her knees between them.
Mina took a deep breath, building her courage. “Why did you take a wife through that gamble?” He stilled. She quickly added, “You could have any woman you want.” Worry was building in her chest. She hadn’t meant offense, yet she couldn’t help but finally speak the question aloud: why her? He hadn’t even known she was the one whose hand he would win—so why take such a gamble when it wasn’t needed?
The Count leaned back against the couch, his eyes landing upon the fireplace before them. “You’ve seen the isolation within these walls, haven’t you?”
She nodded, her heart racing.
“I’ve lived a lonely life, Wilhelmina.” He tilted his head, his eyes distant, as though off in a memory. “That was not always by choice.”
She shifted, building the courage to ask more. “But you could go anywhere in the world. You travel often for business. Why not take more time away to travel for yourself?”
He exhaled slowly. “This castle, this land, is my responsibility. It has been built upon the blood of my ancestors, and there are none left to rule over it. Only I am remaining.”
“And what if you weren’t?” she asked, treading carefully. “Would someone try to take it from you?” Her mind thought of her dreams—the pounding at the door, the men spilling inside.
The Count looked at her then, a sharpness in his eyes that made her fear she’d upset him. “No one can take what is mine. No one,” he whispered fiercely.
“Of course,” she said. She waited a moment, waited to see some of the tension leave his shoulders before she went on. “I suppose I’m just curious as to why you are bound to this land in such a way?”
He lifted his glass to his lips, draining it of the remaining brandy, and leaned forward to place the empty glass on the table before him.
“Loyalty,” he said. “Pride. My people did not give up their lives, survive through war and illness and famine, for me to abandon them.”
Mina nodded. “I don’t wish to imply you should abandon your land or your people,” she said, “I suppose I’m trying to understand what happened. You’ve spoken of a castle so full of life at one time, but now it’s just . . .”
“Me?” he supplied.
“You don’t need to speak of such things if they’ll cause you distress,” she said, feeling guilty for prodding.
“You wish to know of my family,” he said, a statement rather than a question. “I suppose that’s fair given that you are part of it now.” He reached out and brushed his fingers over her knee. His gaze returned to the hearth, as though drawing up the memories from deep within his mind. “At one time, we lived a life of prosperity. But that was before our land became a battleground. Before the Turks took everything from us.”
Mina’s mind churned, trying to make sense of what he referred to, what war or battle he’d faced. She thought back to her school lessons. Was he speaking of the Russo-Turkish War? She had been too young to understand when it was happening nearly fifteen years earlier, but she remembered bits of it from her classes. The Russian Empire and the Balkan Christians had fought to free their fellow Christians from Muslim rule under the Ottoman Empire. Even now, the violence of it seemed to echo in his words, as though it had been only yesterday, but he would’ve been a young man then, sent out into a battlefield with nothing more than pride and bravery to guide him.
“Men were given a choice—convert or die,” he went on. “Many were killed for their faith, for their loyalty to Transylvania, their loyalty to God. Churches were destroyed, villages ravaged.” Mina watched him, the concentration on his face as though he could still see it now, playing behind his eyes. “Men I considered family abandoned the cause, pledging loyalty to the other side.”
“Can you blame them?” Mina asked softly. He turned slowly, his eyes fixed on hers, a darkness to them that she’d never seen. She swallowed. “I just mean, they must have been afraid. In fear of their lives. When people are desperate—”
“They were weak,” he cut in, his voice firm. “A man’s loyalty is not tested in times of ease, it is tested in struggle. In strife. And they failed. They abandoned Transylvania when we needed them most.”
Mina exhaled, her voice soft as she said, “That must have been terrible for you.” She could only imagine what it must have been like to see one’s home destroyed, to see so many murdered.
“We won the battle, but at times it feels as though I lost my very soul.”
Silence fell between them. She wanted to ease his pain, but what could she possibly say that would fix all that he’d endured?
“Look at you,” he said, his voice softer now. “The pity in your eyes, the sadness on your face. Do you see, Wilhelmina, why I do not wish to speak of such things? Why I do not wish to relive such horrors? To share these horrible things with my beloved wife.”
She nodded, guilt pooling in her stomach for approaching the topic. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. He grasped onto her legs, pulling her to him and lifting her onto his lap, making her stomach flutter.
“Let us not speak of such terrible things,” he said. “That is the past. All that matters is now. Be here with me, Wilhelmina.”He pulled her face close to his, and her heart thrummed. “Help me forget my sins,” he whispered.
He kissed her deeply, fire trailing its way through her with his touch. She pushed down the unease heavy in her chest, giving in to the distraction of his mouth, his hands, his skin against hers. And they helped each other forget their pain.
***
Later that night, after they returned to her chamber, she tried to calm her racing mind, to just be there with him. The closer they grew, the more conflicted she felt. The Count cared for her, possibly even loved her—it was clear in the way he looked at her, in the gentleness of his touch and the way he attended her every need when he was near. Surely he was not lying to her about things in the castle—he had no reason to. She was here, she was committed to him and their life together. But still, something pulled at her mind, a strange sense that something was not quite right.
When she awoke the next morning, she found a note left on his pillow stating he’d left for an urgent business matter but would be back within a day or two. Mina rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. This had become normal for her, and yet, she didn’t even know where he went on these trips. Anytime she’d asked, he acted as though it wasn’t worth sharing, as though it was of no importance, nothing more thanhis duty as a count. But what business required a Transylvanian nobleman to leave on a moment’s notice for days at a time? How far could he even get in that time, given the chaos of navigating the Carpathian Mountains?
