Extraits

Prologue

Dear Dara and Ned,

Greetings from the heart of the Carpathians, where winter continues to keep a firm grip on Castle Vladescu, and the relentless, aggressive snow has conquered most modern lines of communication. Hence my traditional missive.

I expect that, by now, the air in rural Pennsylvania is already redolent with the smell of manure on freshly turned fields and that you, Ned, are nearly up to your wire-rimmed spectacles in stray kittens from the spring’s many litters.

What does it say about me, that I find myself unable to make a joke about “hawk fodder?”

Perhaps I am (temporarily!) softened toward all things weak and mewling because the hand not holding my pen rests soothingly upon the head of Antanasia’s and my first child – a daughter. Your granddaughter, born – appropriately, for a vampire – in the dead of the previous night. The coldest of a particularly cold year.

I may be biased, but Princess *** is almost preternaturally beautiful, with dark eyes that I swear are already alert to everything around her. Indeed, she takes after her mother, in appearance. And, for better or for worse, after her father in temperament.

I have been told that I fought for authority from the moment I first drew breath, and *** follows in my footsteps. Her birth was difficult, to say the least. It was as if she, alone, would decide when she was ready for the world. Needless to say, the struggle took a toll upon Jessica. However, I assure you that your daughter will be fine. (I would have it no other way, even if that meant sending a legion of vampires to Johns Hopkins and forcibly recruiting the best obstetricians to make a trans-oceanic “castle call.”) But trust me when I write that Jessica will recover with rest and care from our local team of skilled midwives, who have kept generations of Vladescu mothers safe and healthy.

It should also reassure you to know that my greater concern, right now, is a diplomatic rift with the Maldrovan clan of vampires. Dara, you may recall the Maldrovans as a small, rebellious faction of undead, from your days conducting “research” in Romania. (Much as I respect you, mother-in-law, I still find your “study” of my family somewhat insulting.) Regardless, the situation in Romania is unsettled, and – while I know that you two sojourners are always happy to earn new stamps on your worn passports – I am going to respectfully request that you remain in the States for the time being.

I am certain that Jessica will contact you, sending photographs – too many photographs – the moment the clouds disperse long enough to give us a few of those rare moments of “connectivity” and increased “bars.”

In the meantime, I must go, as the headstrong infant at my side demands the attention of a king with a series of sharp cries.

Is it terrible that I smile, to have such a willful child – an echo of myself?

Will I someday regret the grin that spreads across my face?

I am sure that you recall my first days at your farm, when I was an arrogant prince, with much to learn of humility, and you are both whispering, “Yes, Lucius... Yes, you shall!”

But for now, I remain,

Yours in inordinate, unearned pride,

Lucius

P.S. I assure you again that Jessica is safe. You entrusted her to me at our wedding, and – although she needs no protection – protecting her, and now our child, remains the chief purpose of my existence.

P.P.S. Tell me honestly, Ned. How many kittens are there this year? Can you even count?