Page 257 of Dragon Slayer

“What?” Vlad snapped.

“Oh. Um. Well. Sir…your grace, I mean–”

“What?”

“Your brother,” the man said in a rush. “He’s not in his cell. And Dr. Talbot said you took him out. That he’s with you.”

Vlad folded his arms and propped his shoulder against the doorjamb. “And what of it?”

His expression clearly saidplease don’t make me say it. “Dr. Talbot said…Dr. Talbot said he can’t be allowed loose in the house. He has to go back, sir.” The poor man shivered. “Right away, he said, sir.”

“Hmm. Is that an order?”

The man darted glances to his companions, who refused to make eye contact with either him or Vlad, wanting to stay out of it. “Um,” he finally said. “Yes, I believe so, sir.” He winced. “I’m sorry. But yes, it is.”

Vlad started at him a long moment. “My brother,” he said, pronouncing carefully, “was filthy. He hadn’t seen a bar of soap in months.”

The man looked confused.

“He’s half-starved. I can count all of his ribs.”

“S-sir?” The man’s brows were climbing. What he wouldn’t say was this:you electrocuted him. Why do you care?

“If I return my brother to his cell, then I expect him to be afforded all the best meals and chances to bathe and properly groom himself.” It wasn’t a request.

The man studied his face, trying to be sure. Then jerked a nod. “Yes, sir, of course.”

“I will return him there in the morning. Tonight he sleeps in a real bed. Send someone with a dinner tray.”

If the man intended to protest, he didn’t get the chance before Vlad shut the door in his face.

When he turned back to the bed, he saw that Val was still lying down, pillow clutched to his chest, but that his eyes were open. Because the soldier at the door had awakened him with his idiotic insistence that Val be put back in his cell. Dr. Talbot’s orders…let Dr. Talbot see how well he liked “his grace” when Vlad was–

“Brother,” Val said, and Vlad realized he was growling, a constant low rumble deep in his throat. “Are you thinking violent thoughts?” His tone was joking, but his voice was a jagged ruin, as if he’d been screaming. As if the things he’d relived through memory while dream-walking had manifested themselves physically.

Vlad cut off his growl forcibly and took a deep breath. “Yes,” he admitted. “Some.”

“Well take a break from it. Violence is exhausting.”

“Hmph,” Vlad muttered, but he went to sit on the edge of the bed. He made a conscious effort to soften his voice. “You should get some more sleep. I told that idiot to bring up food.”

“If he doesn’t, will you impale him?”

Vlad growled again – but it was only for show, because Val laughed at his own joke, and even weak and hoarse, it was the best sound Vlad had heard since he’d been awakened.

Val quieted, settling into the pillows with a soft hum, eyes closing.

A thought occurred. “When you escaped your cell,” Vlad said, frowning to himself. “You were in Talbot’s office – you broke Treadwell’s jaw. You could have killed Talbot.”

Val hummed again.

“Why didn’t you? Did you spare him for his daughter’s sake?”

“Mostly.” His eyes opened to slits. “No one deserves to have their father killed. And also…”

“What?”

His eyes opened a little wider, very blue, very young-looking. “Uncle,” he said, just a haunted whisper. “He’s really awake?”

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