Katherine awoke to a soft rustling of fabric and the muted clink of metal latches. Her eyelids fluttered open, and in the hazy morning light she saw three maids moving about her chamber with quiet efficiency. One stood at a small table, preparing a basin of fresh water; another carefully opened a lacquered trunk of dresses; and the third approached the bed, her gaze respectfully lowered.

"My lady," the maid said in a gentle tone, "we've come to help you dress for the day."

Katherine pushed aside the plush velvet covers and sat up, running a hand through her sleep-tousled hair. Though the rest and warmth of the night had restored her body, her heart still felt uneasy, as though anticipating some new threat. She offered the maid a slight nod, swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and rose to meet them.

A wave of cool air hit her. The fire in the room's small hearth had burned down to embers, leaving the chamber brisk and damp with the mountain chill. One of the maids gently removed Katherine's robe while another offered a linen underdress. Its cloth was soft against her skin, but she shivered all the same. A second garment soon followed—a gown of pale gold brocade with long sleeves and discreet floral embroidery stitched in metallic thread. Katherine watched the maids exchange hushed words as they loosened ribbons, adjusted cuffs, and smoothed fabric across her back. Their practiced hands made dressing seem a ceremony in itself.

As the final folds of the gown settled around her waist, the third maid drew near with a wooden comb and a small flask of scented oil. Quietly, she began to unravel the tangles in Katherine's hair, gliding the comb through each length until the strands fell smoothly around her shoulders. Then, with deft movements, she twisted and pinned sections into a simple yet elegant style, leaving a few loose locks to frame Katherine's face. A final touch of rosewater brushed her wrists, the faint floral scent mingling with the crisp morning air.

Katherine murmured her thanks, her voice subdued. The maids curtsied and stepped back, allowing her a moment to breathe. That was when she noticed something unusual: a distant clamor filtering in through the window. The noise was faint at first—like a dull roar, or voices raised in agitation.

Frowning, she moved to the tall, glass-paned window and drew aside the heavy drapes. The morning sun had barely crested the mountains, bathing the courtyard in a pale, diffused glow. Below her, soldiers gathered in tight formation, their black armor catching the nascent light. Farther out, she spotted a trio of horses being led by stable hands, the animals stamping and snorting nervously. The entirety of the snow-covered courtyard seemed charged with restless energy.

The army was arriving at the castle, and officers were assembling below her in the inner courtyard.

The winter sun reflected on the shining armour of the knights, their cloaks bearing their coat of arms or sometimes the cross, designating them as a knight of one holy order or another. Their massive, armoured warhorses moved nervously behind them, pulling at their reins as the pages, garbed in their master's colours, struggled to keep them calm.

Suddenly she discovered Dorin among them, the red and gold embroidery of his coat of arms standing out against the less pretentious attires of his peers. Katherine regarded him, bile rising in her stomach. It would be a blessing for everyone if this man never returned from the war. May the infidels spike his head to the battlements of Constantinople and free them all from this man.

Tearing her eyes away from the loathsome creature whose greed and lust had driven her into the arms of the Prince, she sat up. Learning forward, she studied the warriors in the courtyard below. Each of them had all followed the Prince into war, risking their lives and those of their men under his banner, trusting that he would lead them to victory over the Ottoman Sultan, heedless that the man they followed was a threat far more terrible than the infidel forces they fought on the shores of the Danube. She wondered briefly if they truly did not see or if they merely closed their eyes to the terrible truth, too eager to bask in the light of his glorious victories, enticed by the power the proximity to him promised and tempted by the wealth and influence he could bestow on them.

There seemed to be a small commotion as two women, followed by a flock of plainly garbed maids, joined the soldiers into the courtyard and dismounted their docile looking, brown mares. Katherine could barely stifle a cry of joy as the first of them lowered her hood, revealing Rose's tousled blond locks and bright smile. The woman at Rose's side followed suit, lowering the hood of her opulent gown – it was Maria. Unlike Rose, who was clothed in an elegant but plain light blue riding frock, Maria wore an opulent silver gown that seemed completely out of place for such a journey. It glistened in the sunlight, catching the eye of everyone present. Some of the men turned their heads, clearly taken by Maria's beauty. Not even the realisation that the woman at her friend's side was the Baron's eldest daughter could dim Katherine's delight at seeing her friend. On the contrary, it seemed as if in an instant, their arrival had brought a semblance of normality back into her life, almost as if nothing had changed.

Relief and profound gratitude flooded her – in spite of all that had happened, the Prince had allowed Rose to follow her here. Just as the thought entered her mind, she felt disgust for even entertaining the notion of gratitude, when this man, this monster had taken everything from her. He had purchased her like a slave, keeping her prisoner here, in his Godforsaken castle, not even attempting to keep up any pretence that any of this was voluntary – he expected her to share his bed and suffer whatever it was that gave a man like him pleasure. And then, when he had finally grown tired of her, he would simply kill her.

The gates of the keep opened, and Katherine watched the Prince step out into the snow-covered courtyard, his crimson cloak billowing in the wind. The knights knelt, bowing their heads before their sovereign lord. The women stared at him, clearly enraptured with the Voivode as they sank into deep, reverent bows.

She had not seen him since the meeting in the early hours of the morning. Now, striding across the courtyard in the broad light of day, he seemed so normal, so human, like any other man. It was easy to believe the illusion, but when one looked closely, they would see what he was hiding. Not by looking at him, but at those surrounding him. The men in his presence knelt deferentially, every one of them a proud son of a noble house, tested in battle, yet terrified of meeting the Prince's eyes.

She watched him – this man walked the nightmares of every single man that knelt in this courtyard, even striking terror into their hearts in their waking hours, but at the same time, they were all fiercely loyal to this man. She had been wrong. Their souls knew that their dire suspicions were nothing but the truth, but their minds were blinded by the lingering promise of earthly gratification. They were blindly throwing themselves into the abyss, lured by the promise of temporal fulfilment, heedless that it would cost them their eternal salvation.

The Prince motioned for them to get up with an impatient gesture and they rose. A tall blond man stepped to his side, placing his hand against the Prince's back in a familiar gesture. The Prince smiled, clearly pleased to see the man. Katherine watched in fascination as the two men walked across the courtyard in an almost cordial manner. She could barely believe that a man like the Prince had anything that could be considered a friend, but the scene that played out below her in the courtyard provided contrary evidence.

She was so wrapped in watching two men that she had not heard the soft knock on the door.