every time he heard it. For every boy or girl from our valley who had perished in the forest or drowned in the lake, there was a story about Dr˘agu¸ta and her minions, about hands coming up out of the water to drag the hapless under. For every crucifix the villagers had erected on the outskirts of the Piscul Dracului forest to keep evil spirits at bay, there was a tale about someone who had ventured too far and walked into the witch’s net. Perhaps it was not surprising that our castle had stood empty for so long.

The forest queen had finished introducing folk to her black-clad guests. Calling for the music to start up again, she moved out onto the sward with her hand in Marin’s. I danced with Grigori, whose alarming appearance tended to mask the fact that he was a model of courtesy. I danced with a forest man who had ivy twists for hair, and another clad all in cobwebs.

The music wove its way into my blood and made my feet agile and my limbs supple. My head was full of colors and lights: I smiled at nothing in particular and felt that I was beautiful.

Only when the earlier dances came to an end and folk stood about the edges of the sward while the band had a rest did I remember that Father was leaving in the morning. Once my mind escaped the lure of the dancing, once my body stopped bending and turning and swaying to the music’s enchantment, I found that I was thinking only of the long winter ahead, and how we would cope without him.

Something of my worry must have shown on my face.

Grigori came over to ask what was troubling me. Anatolie offered the opinion that I must be unwell. Gogu showed his own 23

awareness of my unease, snuggling up to my neck, under my hair.

It’s all right, Jena. I’m here. It helped that he was close, for I felt suddenly cold and, surrounded as I was by folk making merry, curiously alone.