Lost in the Castle

~19~

The bright sunshine of the morning was only a distant memory now. While we had stayed in the mill, the sky had grown overcast, filled with clouds the colour of the fur of the wolf waiting for us under the trees of the nearby forest. A cool pinkish-grey, a hue holding a promise of new snow. It felt colder too.

I pulled my hood up and stretched the soft fur cuffs of the sleeves of my coat over my hands, as far as they would go.

"Are you ready to go home?" Junior asked as we crossed the stone bridge and reached the narrow road. "Or do you want to visit Bran?"

I looked down the steep rocky slope towards the place where I could see the first roofs of the small village peeking through the intertwined naked branches of the frost-bitten forest. It was picturesque, without a doubt-- the dark stone houses that huddled close together under their snow-capped roofs looked like an iced gingerbread village. It was still far, though; it would take quite a long time to reach the village and then even longer to get back home, all the way up the steep hill.

No. Knowing that Vlad was not in Bran, going down there seemed pointless. But I didn't feel like going back to the castle either. Not yet.

"How about a walk in the forest?" I proposed.

"Why not? Have you been to the lake lately?"

I shook my head no; before he mentioned it, I hadn't even remembered the lake. But now that he said that... "The one by the old chapel?"

"Do you remember it, then?"

"Of course I do!" How could I forget, I thought, trying to free my mind from the avalanche of fresh memories caused by his mentioning the small forest lake.

We rode up the hill in the direction of the castle for a while, then Junior led his horse off the road, following a trail disappearing under the trees, into the forest. It was so narrow that we couldn't speak. I let Frost walk behind Junior's horse at his own pace, intent on protecting my clothes from getting caught on the low branches growing too close to the trail, making it look even narrower. Finally, the path grew wider, allowing us to ride side by side. Junior slowed down, waiting for me to catch up with him.

"You did well with Clara's father," he said when I reached him.

"Do you think he will manage, left on his own?" I couldn't get the image of the man, all alone in his mill, out of my mind.

"I guess he will finally get someone to help him with the work, now that he knows for sure who Clara chose as her future husband. I can't imagine Ioan as a miller, can you?" he asked, sounding bemused by the idea.

"No," I said, trying to picture the young Captain carrying sacks full of grains to the mill and bags of freshly ground flour to the village. "Who is he, this Ioan? I don't remember him from... before."

"You two have never met before. We grew up together and were changed at the same time. Ioan is the second son of Count Voicu de Hunedoara. He was in the army before he joined Father's Guard," Junior informed me, pulling the reins of his horse tighter to prevent him from strolling off the trail in pursuit of a nearby patch of frozen grass.

"So you know him well?" I asked, following his example with a quick pull of the reins, as Frost seemed to have the same idea.

"He is my best friend, Samara. I know how much he loves the girl, he will look after her well," he assured me.

"What will they do now?"

"Surely they will announce their engagement soon. Then, at some point, they will have to speak to the Council, hoping they will be allowed to get married. If all goes well, they will have children, most likely," he mused, smiling, as if he was imagining his friend as a father.