Page 231 of Dragon Slayer

He gave an internal groan. When she played the lady, it was because she was about to say something he didn’t want to hear. “What, Mama?” he asked, though softer this time, and sat down on the chest at the foot of his bed.

She smoothed her skirt, and folded her hands together.

“Mother.”

“Oh, fine. I’ll just say it straight out: you need to take a wife, Vlad.”

Of all the things he’d expected her to say,thatwasn’t one of them. “I need to take awhat?”

“A wife,” she said, exasperated. “Princes have wives, and they have heirs. You have neither, and people are beginning to talk.”

“So let them talk.”

“Vlad–”

“No.” He stood up, startling himself with the suddenness of it, rippling with energy, now. He started to pace, needing to move. “If it’s the sense of propriety that bothers you, we can pretend that you’re my wife. You’re with me all the time anyway, and you look like a young woman, still. The only ones who know you’re my mother would never tell a soul that you are.”

“Am I to put on a charade?” she asked, affronted. “Sleep in your bedchamber? Kiss you? And act like–”

“You said so yourself: it would only be a charade. Do you take me for incestuous?”

“No, of course not, but I don’t think your mind is–”

He rounded on her. “Mehmet butchered Mihály yesterday!”

She fell silent, face pale and drawn, though she did not tremble, and she did not shrink from him.

“Thatwas what was in the missive that arrived earlier today. He sawed him in half while he was still alive, because he would not give up information about me.” His chest ached, and he took deep, sharp breaths. “And that was only after he tortured him.”

“You impale your enemies,” she bit back. “And they are still breathing when you do it.”

He felt vicious, suddenly, hungry, and desperate, and clawing. “I do.” He bent forward at the waist, and leaned into her face. “And if you expect me to feel remorse, then I don’t, and if that makes me the monster that he is, so be it. We are at war, Mother. We have been at war my entire life. He has taken Smederevo, and pushed the despot out of Morea, and knocks now at the door of Belgrade. Did you think he would be satisfied with Constantinople?” A growl built deep in his chest, rolled out through his voice. “He willneverbe satisfied. And every other prince and king and protector is handing over all his gold, and hiding behind his women’s skirts, andappeasingthe bastard! I don’t mean to do that, Mother! Do you understand? I will not fall to my knees for the man who nightly rapes your other son!”

Mention of Val brought a sudden, brilliant rush of tears to her eyes. But she stared at him, unflinching.

And Vlad realized he was only inches from her, fangs long and bared, growling constantly.

He pulled back with an explosive breath and moved away from her. Reached to massage the knot at the back of his neck, a near-constant affliction these days. Quieter, he said, “Mama, you don’t understand. I have done what good I can for Wallachia, but I’m not here to leave a legacy. To carry on a dynasty. I don’t need a wife, or an heir. The only thing I care about is killing Mehmet.”

When he looked at her again, she’d blinked her tears away. She sighed. “My darling. We are immortals. Wehaveto plan for dynasties. We have to think beyond blind rage and grief, even when that’s all we care about.” Softer: “I’m only trying to look after you.”

“I know. But my answer stands. Talk to me about a wife if I survive this.”

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