Page 252 of Dragon Slayer

“Do you think those tears were real? He’s spent most of his life in Mehmet’s bed. Why should I believe anything he says?”

“Because he’s your brother. And he loves you.”

“No. I don’t believe that.”

Cicero whimpered, but didn’t argue further.

~*~

Of Val’s regrets, only one felt like something he could, and should have been able to prevent. Constantine’s death. He replayed it in his head: the horse falling, Constantine spilling from the saddle. And the head, face twisted, neck dripping gore, haunted his dreams. A lifelong friend reduced to a bloody trophy. He could argue with himself about all of Mehmet’s attentions, about having to fight against Romans in a siege. He hadn’t had a choice; he’d been forced. But he should have saved his friend, and he knew it.

He wouldn’t see the same thing happen to Vlad.

He left at nightfall, alone, cloaked in dark rags. It was a week of travel, keeping off the roads, avoiding patrols, dream-walking ahead to scout the best paths. All in black, he slipped onto the grounds of Corvinus Castle like a wraith. There were guards stationed at Vlad’s prison tower. Val left them unconscious, and took their keys, and let himself into his brother’s prison with his very last shreds of hope clutched round him like armor.

Cicero leaped up with a growl, and Vlad, reading by the fire, surged to his feet, reaching for a sword that wasn’t there.

“Shh,” Val said, shutting the door behind him and pulling back his hood. He could sense the air change when they both caught his scent. “It’s me.”

“Radu,” Vlad said flatly. That name would never stop pricking like a barb.

“Dress warmly,” Val said. “I’ve come to rescue you.”

They stared at him.

“You’re here in person,” Vlad said, without inflection. “You came in through the door.”

“Yes, because I’m actually here. Like I said: to rescue you.”

“I’m not a maiden in a tower to be rescued.”

“Well,” Val said, patience wearing thin. He crossed the floor to peer out the window, searching for signs of having been spotted. He saw a few lanterns bobbing along in the dark, heading this way. “You are in a tower, I might point out, and seeing as you’re unwed, you may well be a maiden. So.” He went to the heavy chest at the foot of the bed.

But when he tried to lift the lid, Cicero’s hands came down on top of it, stopping him, and when he lifted his head, he met the wolf’s one-eyed stare.

“Valerian, what’s happening?”

He sighed, and tried not to let his mounting panic get the best of him. “It’s as I told the great lout a month ago: Matthias has funded a group of angry boyar assassins. They’re on their way here now, to kill you both. I’m here to get you away.”

Cicero’s look drew inward, considering; he at least was taking Val seriously. “How did you get past the guards?”

“I might be a whore, but I’m properly trained. I knocked them out, gagged, and bound them. But we don’t have much time. Help me.” He was allowed to lift the lid of the trunk this time…

Only to have it slammed nearly on his fingers. Vlad strode over, and forced it down again.

Val whirled on him. “Are you really this petty? Or just stupid?” he bit out. “I’m here to help you. They willkill you, Vlad. Just as they did Father and Mircea. You might be strong, but you can’t survive having your heart cut out and burned.”

Vlad stared back at him, implacable. “Why should I believe you?”

“This again? Really?”

“You might be my brother,” Vlad said, in that iron tone that Val knew was immovable. “But blood relation doesn’t mean anything. Romulus orchestrated this entire mess, and he’s our uncle. Forgive me,brother, but I don’t trust you, andI never will.”

It shouldn’t have hurt. He’d heard it before, had known it would be hurled at him again. But hearing it now, close enough to feel Vlad’s breath on his face for the first time in years, close enough to touch, to grab his brother, and seek shelter in a loving embrace – it cracked something inside him. Val felt a splintering behind his ribs, like a crust of ice shattering on the surface of a lake.

Whatever broke, it fractured the panic, too. Calm flooded through him. Certainty.

“What happened to Mother?” he asked, and his tone, the levelness of it, surprised them, because they lifted their brows.

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