Page 309 of Dragon Slayer

59

WHAT I THINK OF MAGIC

Vlad had always found exercise soothing. Grounding. It was so easy for the knowledge of what he needed to do to become a din of competing voices in his head. His mind was sharp – he knew this without boasting. It was simple fact. But that didn’t mean he never wanted to run from conscious thought. He was a prince, and princes couldn’t run; but he could work his body until exhaustion lulled him into a peaceful trance. Exercise had a way of whittling away all the noise until his decisions became clean, precise things shining through the cacophony; undeniable, unbendable.

He especially enjoyed sparring with an opponent.

Undead or not, so far, Kolya Dyomin made for a better partner than Fulk le Strange.

He was unaccustomed to fighting with swords, so they dueled with knives, up close and in each other’s orbits.

Vlad ducked a wicked slice, intending to reach inside the man’s defenses – only to have his hand batted away. He jumped back and felt the passing breeze of a knife swiping past his ribs, a hairsbreadth shy of making contact.

Vlad felt a smile break across his face. “You’re fast.” He struck again.

Kolya grunted, and bent backward at the waist, catching himself on the knuckles of one hand; Vlad’s swipe went over him. And before Vlad could reroute, Kolya had executed a tidy tuck and roll, and sprang back to his feet three yards away, knives at the ready again.

“Again?” Vlad asked.

Kolya twirled one knife, idly, walking it down his knuckles. His fingers were the only parts of his body that moved. “Do we have time?”

“No.” Vlad straightened with reluctance and slipped his own knives into the sheaths strapped to his thighs. Kolya’s went to the small of his back. “We should make ready.”

The revenant nodded.

The thing was, though, they werealreadyready. And if he wasn’t sparring, or walking through sword exercises, he became unnervingly aware that there was a new, female vampire a few rooms away. One that he’d turned.

His nose was still full of the smell of her.

That man – Treadwell – was probably still sitting with her, waiting for her to wake.

Arousal had never been a distracting state of being for Vlad. In his own time, if it became pressing, he found someone to lie with, and had done with it. He hadn’t felt the need since waking; there was a war coming, and none of his “allies” were prepared for it.

But now.

He took a deep breath in through his nostrils and let it out slow, going to the table where the rest of his weapons lay, freshly whetted and ready. He hefted his sword and turned it, light flaring down the blade in a bright wink.

“You’re distracted,” Kolya said, coming up beside him, a guileless observation.

Vlad sent him a sharp look – but found nothing there but blank question. An emotion almost like curiosity – but not quite.

“No,” he said, firm. “I’m ready. Do you remember what you’re supposed to do?”

“Escort your brother, his mate, and the wolves,” Kolya said back, rote. “Protect them. Go with them.” He blinked, and the first sign of life glimmered in his eyes. “Find my friends.”

“You’re to go with them. They’ll decide if you can find your friends.”

“Right.”

“Though I suspect they will.” Vlad looked back to his sword, turning its pommel in his hands. “Val has nothing.”

But that wasn’t true now. He had his new mate, and his new wolves, and a Russian werewolf in New York that he called his friend.

And he had Vlad, too, if hateful brothers were anything worth having.

~*~

Mia came awake with a start. Waking was a slow, labored affair these days, always accompanied by a terrible headache. It took a good face scrubbing and at least half a cup of coffee before she felt human. But not so this time. Her eyes snapped open, clear and focused, and she jackknifed upright, breath catching in sudden fright.

---