Page 73 of Dragon Slayer

17

BOYS AT COURT

A great kindness. That was how Sinan described it when he informed them that they would not be forcibly converted.

A slave showed Vlad to a folly in the midst of the palace gardens, a lovely white stone structure with open doors at either end, vaulted timber ceilings, all crawling with ivy and climbing mountain roses. Someone had fashioned wooden pews, and a large, plain wood cross hung above one door, beneath it a makeshift altar with the melted stumps of candles. The chapel, the place was called, somewhere for non-converts to pray.

The slave gave a little aborted bow and retreated, leaving Vlad alone with the jasmine-scented air and the echoing sense that, despite all odds, something holy did indeed dwell here.

He wasn’t in the mood for holy, though.

He threw himself down onto a pew and scowled up at the cross. “A great kindness,” he mimicked. “Fuck you.”

He gave it a moment, expecting to be struck dead.

Instead, a voice spoke up behind him. “Your Turkish is almost flawless. Remarkable.”

Romanian, Vlad registered.

The man had spoken to him in Romanian!

Heart racing, suddenly, Vlad twisted around and saw that the man who knew his language was the oldest of the hostage boys at court. The one with long wheat-colored hair and a decent beard growing in. His posture mirrored that in which Vlad had first seen him: arms folded, leaning negligently back against the wall.

He tamped down his flurry of excitement. “Who are you?”

The young man studied him a moment, expression guarded in a way that Vlad actually found reassuring. In this instance, away from prying eyes, a little caution went a long way toward earning Vlad’s trust.

Finally, he pushed off the wall and extended his right hand for a shake. “My name’s George Castrioti. Of Albania. You’re Vlad Dracul’s son, right?”

Vlad stared at the proffered hand. And then the boy’s face. He felt a tug somewhere under his ribs, the pull to talk, to trust, toconfide. He’d been pushing Val away more steadily each day – they slept separately now, and Val looked to him for comfort less and less – and the thought of stealing even half a conversation with someone who wasn’t a captor made him ache.

But he frowned and said, “They don’t call you George.”

The boy’s hand dropped, but he smiled and shrugged. Kicked off the wall and came to rest with both palms leaned casually against the back of the pew. Nothing about his body language nor his scent spoke of a threat, but still, Vlad didn’t relax.

“They don’t, you’re right,” he agreed. “They call me Iskander now. Iskander Bey. That’s how the Turks refer to Alexander the Great.”

Vlad felt his brows jump. “Oh, and you’re great?”

He shrugged again, an offhand gesture, dismissive. “I don’t know. The sultan seems to think I’m a fierce warrior, though. As far as monikers go, it’s not such a bad one.” He offered a smile. “But you’re welcome to call me George.”

Vlad turned away. No one had smiled at him since his arrival here, and he didn’t know what to do with it now.

George pulled back – Vlad expected him to leave – but then he came around the end of the pew and sat down beside Vlad, a reasonable arm span between them.

Curiosity got the best of Vlad – the kind that burned, the kind that made him angry, that left his teeth grinding and his voice tight. Most emotions led to anger for him; he didn’t understand why, and he hadn’t figured out how to control it yet. “How old are you?” he asked, ducking his head when he heard the bite to the words.

But George answered easily, unperturbed. “Twenty-one. The oldest here, by far.”

Surprise wiped the frown from Vlad’s face. He lifted his head. “But why have they kept you so long?”

“Several reasons, I suspect. He needed to keep a tight rein on my father. And I was” – he grinned and it was more a baring of teeth, a low chuckle building in his throat – “not the most cooperative hostage at first. I took some convincing to behave. You know what that’s like.”

Vlad hummed an agreeing sound.

“Also, I managed to convince them that I’d converted, and I think they want to make sure that I really have.”

Vlad blinked. “You didwhat? But – why–?”

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