As the nervous stallion made his way up the steep incline, Katherine surveyed the windswept mountaintop high above her. In the distance, built atop a sheer cliff, the massive stone citadel of Poenari rose into the sky, towering over them like a sleeping giant.

When they finally reached the windswept mountaintop and passed through the citadel's colossal gates, Katherine's gaze moved up, climbing along the columns, to the vaulted archway high above her. Suspended inside a narrow opening that traversed the entire width of the arch, was a gate made of latticed wrought iron bars. Its purpose was as clear. As was the message it sent to anyone who passed under it: No one would ever enter or leave this castle against the will of its lord.

Unnerved by the thought, Katherine averted her eyes and looked ahead into the courtyard before her. Black-clad soldiers lined the walls of the vast, octagonal space. Standing erect and completely motionless, they looked more like statues than living men. An eerie silence had descended on the courtyard, disturbed only by the clatter of the hoofs. And then, abruptly, the sharp command of a soldier broke the silence. The guards moved suddenly, lowering the tips of their halberds in a perfectly synchronised, formal salute. For a heartbeat, they stood completely still, and then they resumed their original position – the wooden ends of a hundred halberds hitting the ground at once in a deafening clang.

She shivered involuntarily at this bold demonstration of power and military might.

An icy gust swept through the courtyard, stirring cloaks and scattering a thin veil of snow across the cobblestones. Katherine glanced around warily, her breath misting in the cold air. Soldiers hurried forward to take the reins of the Prince's stallion, while others remained at attention, silently acknowledging their master's return. Without so much as a backward glance, the Prince dismounted, handed his reins to a waiting guard, and vanished through a towering set of doors at the far end of the courtyard.

No words were spoken to Katherine. Uncertain of where to go, she simply sat astride her horse until two young maids approached, their eyes carefully lowered. One stepped forward and offered a polite bow.

"My lady, if you would follow us. His Grace has prepared chambers for you."

Katherine swallowed, nodding mutely. She allowed them to help her from the saddle, wincing at the stiffness in her legs. The journey had been long, her body sore from the tense ride and her brush with terror in the woods. A stable boy appeared to lead away her tired mare, and then the maids ushered Katherine through a massive arched door into the castle's interior.

Inside, torchlit corridors branched in countless directions. The walls of black stone were hung with draperies bearing the crimson dragon sigil of the Prince. Their footsteps echoed along the vaulted halls, weaving upward through spiraling staircases and past a succession of heavy wooden doors guarded by more silent, black-clad sentries. At last, the maids stopped before a set of double doors inlaid with intricate bronze fittings.

"This way, my lady," one of them whispered, pushing open the doors.

Katherine stepped into a lavish suite of rooms that took her breath away—so unexpected in such a fortress. Gold candelabras lit the space, throwing warm, dancing light over walls paneled in dark oak. Thick carpets muffled her steps. Ornate chairs upholstered in damask were arranged around a low table set with a steaming pot of mulled wine and a plate of fruit. Beyond a curtained arch stood a large bed covered in a brocade canopy, rich burgundy hangings framing plush, velvet pillows.

She had little chance to take it in before the maids moved into the chamber with hushed efficiency. Another pair arrived soon after, bearing more chests bound in iron, just like those she had seen in Sighișoara. They placed them along the wall and flicked open the metal latches with quick, practiced motions. At once, luxurious gowns and robes were lifted out—satins, velvets, silk nightdresses with delicate lace trim. More jewelry, too, glimmered in shallow boxes: rubies, pearls, finely wrought gold filigree. The sight of it left Katherine shaken, both at the sheer opulence and at the realization that it all belonged to her—at least by the Prince's decree.

One of the maids stood before her and dipped a quick curtsey. "Shall we prepare you for bed, my lady?"

Katherine opened her mouth, half ready to refuse, but exhaustion and the ache of her body prevailed. She nodded. Wordlessly, they helped her out of her travel-stained gown, unfastening the laces and removing her dusty cloak. The cold air pricked her skin. Another maid appeared with a basin of warm, scented water, steam curling into the air as she set it on a table. A soft cloth was offered, along with gentle hands that cleaned the grime from Katherine's arms and neck.

Despite her lingering mistrust of this place and its master, she relished the warmth on her chilled flesh. The tension slowly ebbed from her muscles. Finally, they slipped a silken nightdress over her head—a garment so light and smooth, it felt like a whisper against her skin. A second maid draped a velvet robe around her shoulders, tying it neatly at the waist.

"Is there anything else you require, my lady?" one of them asked quietly, her gaze lowered with polite deference.

Katherine mustered a small, weary smile. "No, thank you. That will be all."

They hesitated, but with a faint nod, the four young women retreated from the suite, moving as silently as they had arrived. The doors swung shut behind them, leaving Katherine alone in the glow of the candelabras.

For a moment, she stood in the middle of the chamber, hugging the robe closer around herself. This was to be her new domain, however long that might last. She took a slow turn, eyes lingering on the chests of clothing, the glimmering jewelry, the tall mirror that reflected her tense silhouette. None of it felt real.

She extinguished all but one candle, then approached the bed. Layers of plush quilts beckoned, promising a warmth she desperately needed. Despite her heart's uneasy flutter, her body craved rest. Pulling back the covers, she slid between cool sheets and nestled her head into a soft pillow.

Anxious thoughts churned—memories of wolves, the Prince's disquieting command over them, and the silent soldiers in the courtyard. Yet weariness soon weighed heavier than fear. Her eyelids fluttered, and after one final glance at the shuttered windows, she surrendered to the thick, dreamless dark of exhaustion.

So ended her first day at Poenari Castle, its fortress walls standing guard around her like a silent, unyielding sentinel.