Page 170 of Dragon Slayer

Once, they’d belonged to the far reaches of the world. Val spotted black skin, and brown. The almond eyes of the Orient, and round blue eyes. Hair a finer gold than his own.

One of them was a wolf.

He took a deep breath, to be sure, and, yes, he was positive. There was no concealing the distinctive musk of a werewolf, even when he walked on two legs instead of four. He picked him out of the line: a clean-shaven boy with pale skin and dark hair, slighter of build than some of the others, but that would make no difference on the battlefield. Wolves were ungodly strong.

Halil Pasha finally drew to a halt in front of Val, puffing and red-faced from his walk through the cold. “These recruits are to be considered for the sultan’s private guard,” he said, motioning toward them with a limp hand. He pressed the fingers to the base of his throat afterward, over his visibly fluttering pulse. “Test them with the others.”

Val’s fangs elongated a fraction in his mouth. With Halil Pasha, the honorific “your grace” was used sparingly, only when absolutely necessary. And he gave orders as if Val were a slave boy.

“Of course,” Val said, tone chilly. He smiled, and let the man see his fangs.

As hoped, Halil Pasha took a hasty step back, scowling. “They’re green. Test them rigorously.”

“Of course,” Val repeated.

The Grand Vizier turned to the recruits. The wolf boy stood staring down at the toes of his boots, lashes flickering against his cheeks as he blinked. Tears? A reaction to the biting cold? He smelled of nervousness and stress.

“This is Prince Radu,” Halil Pasha told the boys. “He is a knight, and an expert marksman.” Ah, a rare compliment. “He is beloved of the sultan as if he were his brother.”Brother, yes, Val thought.That’s a lovely word for it.“You would do well to impress him today.”

He departed with a warning glance thrown over his shoulder at Val – though what he was warning against Val had no idea. The man liked to sound in charge of things.

“Alright, you lot,” Val said, clapping his hands together. “Fall in line with the others.”

They moved to do so. And as they filed past, Val saw the wolf boy’s nostrils flare. He’d caught the scent of vampire. He darted a quick glance up at Val as he passed, sideways and furtive. Amber eyes.

For the first time since he’d arrived in Edirne, there was a wolf inside the palace walls. Val didn’t intend to let him slip away.

~*~

All of his recruits were green – but they were athletic, sharp, and eager to please. Archery would take some time to master, but many were already proficient with spear and blade. And they followed orders quickly and without backtalk.

Val was impressed.

And then there was the wolf.

The boy was by far the least capable with the weaponry. He tried gamely, and was clearly strong, but he lacked a natural born fighter’s grace and ease.

Val finally called for a break when the sun was at its zenith and the day had warmed a fraction. The recruits had long since stripped off cloaks and kaftans, and their bare arms steamed in the afternoon light.

The wolf sat apart from the others, on one of the low benches against the palace wall, waiting his turn to seek the water pails and ladles currently being mobbed by the others.

Val took his own waterskin and went to sit beside the boy.

He startled violently, and nearly fell off the bench.

“Easy,” Val said, chuckling, and offered the skin. “I only came to offer you a drink.”

The boy regarded him a long, unblinking moment, body poised, tense, on the edge of the bench. Fear-sweat bloomed, immediate and pungent. With his eyes wide, it was easy to see that his pupils had narrowed to a shape less than human. Val bet that, if he were to touch the boy’s neck, he would feel the prickle of hair emerging along his ruff.

He shook the waterskin. “Here. You must be thirsty.”

Slowly, as cautious as a fawn, and not the wolf that he actually was, the boy took the skin with a soft “thank you.” His accent was thick. He hesitated, skin poised at his lips, but when he finally drank, he did so desperately, eyes closing, throat working as he gulped all of the chilled water down. He splashed some onto his shirtfront, his skin, and didn’t seem to care.

Finally, he lowered it with a gasp, and his eyes widened again. “Oh. I. I’m sorry.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and he looked sheepishly down at the now-empty skin. “I didn’t mean to–”

“It’s alright,” Val assured. “There’s no shortage of water here. The wells are deep. Would you like some more?”

“No. No, no, I’m sorry, your grace.” He passed the skin back with shaking hands.

---