Covenant With the Vampire by Jeanne Kalogridis

the door to find her still
in her nightgown in bed, propped up with her long, dark hair fanned against
the pillows. Her eyes are large, like Arkady’s, but unlike his, very dark, and
today they were underscored by shadow that emphasised her pallour. Indeed, she
seemed distressingly pale and drawn; her lips and cheeks had lost their former
hint of rosiness.
    “Zsuzsanna, dear,” I said, and hurried to her side. “I missed your company
today and came to see how you were doing. Are you unwell?”
    “Sweet Mary! Only tired. I did not sleep well last night.”
    Her answer made me blush, but I do not think she noticed. She smiled at the
sight of me, and clasped my hand; hers was cold. I assume her wanness was caused
by some feminine complaint and so did not press to know its cause, but I fear
it is also at least partly due to lovesickness and guilt. She looked so small
and frail there against the pillows that it was impossible to think of her as
a responsible adult; even her voice and expression were those of a child.
    “Have you eaten?” I asked. “May I bring you anything?”
    “Oh, yes! I have been ravenous. Dunya brought me two trays, and I ate everything.”
She nudged the dog, who lay contented across the foot of her bed and thumped
his tail at the sound of his name. “It is all Brutus’ fault! He has been barking
at night and won’t let me sleep. I had to put him in the kitchen, and he will
stay there again tonight!”
    “Perhaps it is wisest to let him stay.” I watched her keenly for a reaction.
“He only barks in order to protect you.
    She laughed; her eyes were wide and innocent. “Protect me? From what? Field
mice?”
    “From wolves,” I said darkly. “I thought I saw one near your window last night.
You must take care.”
    There followed an awkward pause; her eyes narrowed, and she shot a swift, telling
glance at me before turning away and pretending to focus her attention on the
dog at her feet. She stroked him for several seconds in silence.
    All of a sudden she burst into tears, and raised her contorted face to mine
as she clutched my arm with both hands. “Please - you must not return to England!
Tell him - please! If all of you leave me, I shall die! You must none of you leave
me - !” She wept with the single-minded desperation of a child.
    I was taken aback more than I can say by the unexpected and emotional reaction,
but I took it as a clear admission of guilt and a confession of love. It does
not matter to her so much if Arkady and I were to leave; but it would kill her
should her great-uncle do so.
    “But, my darling,” I soothed, “we would never leave you. You must not even
think such things.”
    “Tell
him.
Tell
him!”
she repeated in a choked voice, clutching
my arm so desperately that I had to promise at once: yes, yes, I would tell
him, and quite soon.
    I know she did not refer to her brother. I know who “he” is, all too well.
    From her reaction, I fear her guilt has driven her to nervous exhaustion. I
sat with her awhile and calmed her - saying nothing more of what I had seen,
lest I provoke her to another outburst. She has suffered enough, poor dear,
and there is nothing I can do now except take the matter up with my husband - or
Vlad himself.
    But I am a newcomer to the family; it is hardly my place to take the patriarch
to task. I know I must speak to Arkady, and soon. Yet, although my husband did
not depart for the castle until mid-afternoon, I could not bring myself to speak
to him, could not find the words.
    At the same time, I cannot bear to see poor confused Zsuzsanna further taken
advantage of. And so I determined that I would wait for Arkady to return home
later that evening and speak to him, and I spent the afternoon hours carefully
choosing the phrases that would surely break his heart.
    To my dismay and relief, my husband returned home only a few hours later, with
an Englishman who was visiting the castle, a Mister