Epilogue
The mountain clearing was quiet, and our guests waited expectantly as I stepped toward Lucius, who held up his left hand, offering it to me in a different way than he had at our wedding. This time, his cut palm faced forward, so I could clearly see the X he’d placed there.

I accepted his left hand in my right, and he placed his right hand on my back, just under my shoulder blade, molding his palm against my body. Then I took my left hand and gently rested it on his right arm, just where his bicep curved to meet his shoulder.

As we faced each other, prepared to move to the haunting sounds of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, I wasn’t worried about the fact that I still wasn’t a good dancer. In spite of a few last-minute lessons in Lucius’s study, I couldn’t really “waltz or quadrille,” any more than I’d been able to do those things the first time we’d danced back in the Woodrow Wilson High School gym under twinkle lights that would never satisfy me, either, now that I’d been married in a sea of candles.

No, I couldn’t dance – but I could put that look on Lucius’s face. That worshipful, protective expression that I saw in my husband’s eyes as he held me.

The pianist began to play, and Lucius and I started to step to the sonata’s delicate and yet powerful cascade of light but mysterious notes – a musical expression of how I felt every time I first saw Lucius after we’d been apart for even a few minutes, like we had after the ceremony. That incomparable rush of joy and calm and excitement that came over me whenever he walked into a room. And there were the dark undertones, too...

We moved together at the center of a circle formed by all our guests, and Lucius placed his hand more firmly against the back of my black dress – like the photographic negative of a traditional wedding gown – which I’d changed into after the ceremony, because his cut palm had stained my white dress with blood when we’d kissed.

The piece was full of tempo changes and tricky to dance to, and he led us through the most foreboding, bittersweet part, my eyes trained on his so I wouldn’t stumble against him.

What amazing eyes my husband had…

He smiled – and like I’d pretty much expected would happen at some point, I lost the inconsistent rhythm and bumped his feet with mine. Giving up easily, I pulled my hand from his and slipped my arms up around his neck, forgetting about my attempt to do a few basic steps, because suddenly I just wanted to hold him while that beautiful, poignant song played. Suddenly the music, written so long ago and still so evocative, reminded me too much of time, which had been on my thoughts all evening.

Years, decades, centuries… eternity.

We had the promise of that, but – given who we were, rulers – we both knew that promise was probably false. That one day, we’d be taken from each other, just like our parents had been separated forever. Either frightened people would turn on us again, or one of our own kind would betray us…

When I rested my cheek against his chest, Lucius gave up trying to guide me to waltz, too, and I stroked his hair while we swayed, telling myself not to worry on my wedding night, because that terrible day might be a week away – or a thousand years in the future.

“Is something wrong, wife of mine?” Lucius whispered, using a word – “wife” – that he couldn’t seem to get enough of that night. “I’m sensing that you’re not happy...”

I raised my face, realizing that other guests had joined our dance, and forcing myself to smile, because I didn’t want him to worry, or me to waste this celebration thinking about terrible things that might never happen. It was just the song that had caused me to get sad for a minute…

“I was just wondering how even Lucius Vladescu got a baby grand piano up to a clearing high in the Carpathians,” I said, teasing him. “I was trying to figure out the logistics.”

Lucius laughed with surprise and wrapped his arms more tightly around me. “I am glad you retain your rational, mathematical side, Antanasia – for I do love that, too!”

I glanced around the rocky, grassy clearing, which wasn’t exactly well-suited for a party, but which was special to me. “All joking aside, Lucius,” I said, caressing the back of his neck with my thumb and meeting his eyes, so he could see how much I genuinely appreciated everything he’d done. “Thank you for making this possible. The food, the music – everything – here.”

Lucius grew serious. “If this is where you see your mother in dreams, and you feel that Mihaela is with us now, then I would drag one hundred pianos up this mountain to make her part of the celebration for you.”

“I know it’s weird,” I admitted. “But I really do feel her presence here.”

I’d first seen the clearing when Lucius and I had gone riding one day, and immediately recognized a semi-circular outcropping of stone, because I’d seen it many times in my sleep. Usually, it was winter in the dreams, and the earth was covered with snow, but the sharp rocks had been unmistakable. I’d actually hauled too hard on the reins, rising out of the saddle and searching for Mihaela, certain that she had to be there, waiting for me, before I’d remembered that she had been gone for years. I was searching for a ghost. A fantoma, as my new countrymen would say.

“I am completely irrational – as you used to frequently remind me,” Lucius joked, shifting his hands to squeeze my waist. “I believe in the power of dreams. Like most vampires, put great stock in them. What you feel here does not seem ‘weird’ to me, at all.”

I shivered in his arms, because my dreams did seem strange to me. Ominous sometimes, like the sonata…

I glanced around us, surprised to hear… nothing but the rustle of wind in the trees, clinking glasses, and quiet conversation in the distance. Then I looked back to Lucius and found him grinning at me. “Did you know the song ended?” I asked. “That everyone else walked away?”

“Yes,” Lucius admitted, still holding me. “But I wasn’t quite ready to let you go.”

As we reluctantly separated, I shivered again, this time because the night was getting late and chilly… and with anticipation, too. Very, very soon we would get away from everyone and there’d be no reason to stop holding each other, or to stop kissing, or stop touching…

“We should say our farewells now,” Lucius suggested, taking my hand and leading us toward a gauzy, billowing white tent, where everyone was gathered and from which swung glowing, iron chandeliers not unlike those in the Vladescu estate’s dining room. Suspending the heavy lights from the fragile tent was another one of the seemingly impossible logistical, engineering tricks that the magician I’d married had pulled off that night, along with spiriting all of our guests, and an amazing seven-course meal, and that piano, far up a mountainside. “They will feel bound to stay until we depart,” he added, smiling at me. “We should leave soon, so they are free to go, too.”

As we walked hand-in-hand under the stars, I tried to read that smile. Either he’d noticed my shudder and also realized it was getting late – or he was getting eager, too…

Judging from the glimmer that I saw in his eyes, I had a feeling it was mainly the latter.

We stepped under the tent, Lucius ducking because he was too tall for the lowest parts, and began to say our good-byes and thank yous, eventually finding my Uncle Dorin, whom I’d barely seen all evening. I’d only noticed him twice: once talking to Mindy, and once making a good effort at conversation with Claudiu, whom of course he knew from meetings of the Elders, but who wasn’t exactly a friend.

Quite the opposite, really.

“Oh, Antanasia,” Dorin said, eyes twinkling even more than usual. “Lovely affair! Just lovely. I’m so happy for you two!”

“Thank you,” I told my uncle, leaning in to hug him. “Thanks for being here – and for everything you did to make this night happen.”

Dorin stepped back and waved off my gratitude, nearly spilling the red wine he was again enjoying, maybe because we hadn’t served cappuccino. “You say that too often. It was nothing! Had to be done!”

I did thank Uncle Dorin a lot. But could I ever express enough gratitude for how he’d orchestrated Lucius’s survival back in Jake Zinn’s barn, and somehow gotten Lucius’s “body” back to Romania? Or for breaking Lucius’s own command and returning to America to inform me that Lucius was alive?

Lucius reached past me to extend his hand, adding, “Thank you, Dorin. Antanasia is correct. You were instrumental in bringing her back to me.”

Dorin took Lucius’s hand, seeming, like always, a little intimidated by my husband, even at a party. And my uncle definitely blanched when Lucius added, still smiling and clasping his hand hard, “However, I wouldn’t suggest disregarding any direct commands in the future, no matter how noble your intentions!”

It was a joke – but a warning, too. Lucius was happy with the outcome of Dorin’s insubordination, but as he often told me, vampires were an unruly bunch and it was easy to lose control if you allowed even the slightest disobedience to go unnoticed.

“Point taken!” Dorin agreed with a nervous grin. They released hands and he added, seeming relieved to look to me, “Congratulations, you two!”

Lucius stood straighter, frowning and scanning the crowd. “Now where is Claudiu?”

The pink that had been returning to Dorin’s cheeks drained away again, and he didn’t meet Lucius’s eyes as he informed us, “Claudiu? He… he wasn’t feeling well. I… I think he left.”

Lucius looked down at Dorin, one eyebrow arched. “Really? Left my wedding without a word to me?”

Dorin’s cheeks were ivory, like he was afraid Lucus would shoot the messenger. “Er… I believe so, yes.”

I got a little sick, myself. I knew the source of Claudiu’s “illness.” He couldn’t stand the thought of a Dragomir marrying into the Vladescu family. He barely tolerated Dorin as one of the Elders, and he hadn’t been able to even watch me sign the genealogy. I was sure that Lucius hadn’t been blind to Claudiu’s attitude, and he would not like this snub…

“If you see my uncle,” Lucius told Dorin, “please let him know that I will definitely inquire as to his health in a day or so.”

“Lucius…” I placed my hand on his arm, recognizing from his deadly serious tone that it wasn’t going to be a friendly visit. He didn’t sound angry… but it was still very clear that he didn’t accept Claudiu’s disappearance into the night. That Claudiu would be held accountable, and forced to accept me as family, if it came to that…

“I will let Claudiu know you plan to visit,” Dorin promised nervously. He downed his wine in a gulp, swallowing hard. “If I see him, I certainly will!”

Lucius placed his hand on my back and guided us away from my uncle, and when we got a few steps away, I stopped him and whispered, “Lucius, please…”

But what could I ask him to do? Even I recognized that Claudiu’s early, wordless departure was an insult to us – to me – and if we going to rule together, it would have to be addressed. Otherwise, Claudiu might think he could offend me and get away with it, which would begin to erode my already tenuous authority. And that would not be good. I suddenly remembered something I’d read when I’d skimmed my birth mother’s gift to me. “Power lost is almost NEVER regained…”

Still, I didn’t want to start a fight…

Lucius understood the dismay on my face and took my arm, smiling and reassuring me, quietly, so only I would hear, “Much of ruling is bluff and bluster, Antanasia. Don’t worry about something so minor as a confrontation with Claudiu. It will amount to nothing.”

But Lucius had destroyed Claudiu’s brother. Violence did happen…

Lucius could tell that I wasn’t convinced there was nothing to worry about. “If it makes you feel better, I will take my trusty best man,” he promised, laughter in his eyes. Then he straightened and scanned the crowd again. “Where is Raniero? Has he abandoned me, too?”

I started searching, too, craning my neck. “The last time I saw him, he was with Mindy, and they were dancing not too far from us.”

As I looked around for Mindy or Raniero, I recalled thinking, just briefly, that they’d seemed to be hitting it off while they’d danced. Mindy had been laughing, like she’d at least found Raniero to be an amusing, if physically and hygienically disappointing, date.

I frowned. Or had he been disappointing, after all?

With his messy brown hair tamed by a ponytail, and his board shorts replaced by one of the tuxes that Lucius’s poor, overworked tailor had custom-fitted to the surfer’s lean body, Raniero had looked pretty good, to me. He was tall like a Vladescu, and he had unusual gray-green eyes – maybe inherited from his Italian Lovatu side – and a grin that kind of grew on you. Most girls – especially girls who hadn’t seen Raniero in his dirty flip-flops – would probably have been pretty happy to find themselves paired with him at a wedding.

But Mindy – and a vampire…?

I looked at Lucius, who seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“You don’t think they…?” I asked.

Lucius shook his head and sighed. “Oh, I hope not…”

I wanted to ask him who he was worried for. Raniero, at the mercy of Mindy Stankowicz, who’d read a decade’s worth of Cosmo in preparation for “catching” a guy? Or was there something I should know about Raniero Lovatu and his track record with girls?

But before I could ask, I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Mom and Dad, and forgot all about Mindy.

* * *

My parents walked with us to the path in the forest that would take Lucius and me back to the castle, where we’d spend our wedding night.

Lucius had offered to take me anywhere in the world – Rome or Paris or some nameless, private island in the middle of nowhere, if that’s what I wanted – but I’d wanted to go home with him. I’d wanted to spend our first night together in the huge bed where we’d hopefully spend so many nights, and where we’d someday start our family…

“Do you really have to fly back already?” I asked Mom and Dad. “You could stay with Uncle Dorin for a few more days. We could visit…”

But they both shook their heads. “No,” Mom said. “You two are on your honeymoon – and our plane leaves first thing in the morning.”

“Okay,” I agreed. I’d known they wouldn’t stay, but a part of me kept clinging on to them. “I understand.”

Still, we all lingered at the edge of the dark path that Lucius and I were about to take. Most of our guests would follow a shorter trail to an unpaved road, where transportation waited to take them the rest of the way down the mountain. But Lucius and I had decided to walk to the estate alone, taking a shortcut through the forest. We didn’t even want to be around a driver. We were ready to just be together.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Dad asked, peering into the trees. “Looks awfully desolate in there.”

Lucius, who had been standing behind me, placed his arm around me, crooking his elbow so his forearm shielded my chest. “I’ll keep her safe, Ned,” he reassured Dad. “I’ve walked these paths since my childhood.”

I had a feeling that Lucius wasn’t just talking about the literal trail we were about to take. My metaphor-loving husband was talking about everything that lay ahead of us.

“You know that I’ll protect her with my life,” he added.

My parents, who had once feared that Lucius might do quite the opposite, didn’t speak right away. Then Mom finally said, “We know you will, Lucius.”

We hugged once more, the reversal of the greeting we’d offered each other just a few days before, and suddenly it was time for me and Lucius to go. But just as we turned toward the path, my eyes brimming with tears, so I had to hang onto his hand, Lucius paused and turned back, calling, “Ned… Dara?”

My parents stopped walking, too, and turned around. “Yes, Lucius?” Mom asked, sounding uncertain in the darkness.

Lucius seemed uncertain, too – another rare state for him – as he asked, “Would it be all right if I… If I addressed you as ‘mother’ and ‘father,’ in the future?”

There was a huge silence, and for a second – even while I processed my surprise over this request – I was scared that they were actually about to say no. Maybe scrambling for some alternative that wouldn’t sound quite so accepting.

Don’t turn him down, I wanted to beg them. It would destroy yet another part of him…

But when Dad finally spoke, I could tell that he’d only hesitated because the question had brought my gentle, sentimental father close to tears again. His voice was choked and soft as he advised Lucius, “We’d really prefer ‘mom’ and ‘dad,’ son. No need to be so formal with family!”

Lucius’s hand tightened around mine, and his voice was a little strangled, too, as he said,simply, “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

I honestly doubted that Lucius would ever really address my parents as “mom” or “dad” – it was hard to imagine those words coming out of his mouth – but I knew he was happy to have that choice. It was the permission, and all that it implied, that had been important to him.

Then, without another word, we separated, my parents returning to the party and their lives, and me and Lucius heading down that lonely path. We didn’t talk at all. It was too nice just being together, listening to the night, thinking about what was about to happen, which somehow didn’t scare me anymore.

Eventually, Lucius’s castle – our home – came into sight, and when we reached the massive door, one of the guards, who had probably never been too far from us, materialized to open it, and Lucius bent down and swept me up off my feet, cradling me against his chest.

The gesture was clichéd enough to make us both laugh, but I’d secretly hoped that Lucius – chivalrous Lucius – would carry me across the threshold. I was glad that he didn’t disappoint.

We entered the cavernous foyer where he’d once declared me a prisoner, and, feeling the heavy gold rings on my left hand, I was keenly aware that nothing had really changed since that night. Even before that night – ever since the pact had been signed – we’d been unable to escape one another, no matter how hard we tried.

Lucius carried me through the hallways, and I held tight to his neck until we reached the door to the bedroom we would share – only this time there was no guard in sight. We were really alone.

He bent slightly to reach the knob, twisted it and opened the door. Then he gently set me down on to my feet, drew me to himself and said softly, “Welcome home, Antanasia.”

I didn’t – couldn’t – say anything. I still didn’t want to talk. I just wanted… him.

I could see in his eyes that Lucius wanted me, too, just as badly.

Finally, we were going to share everything. Our blood, again, and so much more…

Then Lucius reached back with one arm, still holding me with his other, and just as his lips touched mine, he closed the door behind us, shutting the world out.

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