Page 78 of Dragon Slayer

“Come now.” Mehmet stepped toward him, twirling his sword. “Would you refuse the request of the heir?”

A question to which there was no answer.

“No,” Val breathed, anxiety already skating across his nerves, tightening his stomach.

“Alright, then.” Mehmet slid into a ready stance. “Let’s begin.”

Val wanted to turn tail and run. But. This was the heir. And he was a long way from home.

He adjusted his feet, and lifted his sword.

“En garde,” Mehmet said with a smile, and attacked.

Val lifted his sword. Too late, too slow, he knew–

Sharpclangof metal against metal.

Scent of home, family, brother. Because Vlad had leapt up and thrown his shoulder in front of Val, had stopped Mehmet’s sword with his own.

The collision echoed, bouncing off the utter stillness of the training yard. And then Val heard his brother growl, low like a panther. “Don’t touch him,” he rumbled. “Don’t you fuckingtouchmy brother.”

Mehmet stared at him a moment, expressionless for once. And then a smile slowly bloomed. He chuckled. “Oh. So you do care, huh? We can work with that.”

Vlad opened his mouth andsnarled.

“Brother–” Val started, and was elbowed backward. He landed hard on his backside in the sawdust, and had to scramble out of the way as the two princes broke apart, swords held at the ready.

“That doesn’t sound very civilized,” Mehmet taunted.

Vlad roared, and ripped his sword back; lunged forward with a vicious strike.

This was no training exercise, Val knew. His brother wanted blood. Two rival male vampires, no matter how young, would only relent when one was too badly wounded to lift his arms.

“Vlad,” he tried again, but it was no use.

Vlad moved with every ounce of his viciousness, his movements a blur, snarling the whole time.

The heir began with a smile…that soon became a grimace. Vlad was stronger, faster, and a far superior swordsman.

Val scrambled over to the wall, right beside Iskander. “We have to stop them,” he whispered. “Iskander!”

But the older boy didn’t look desperate the way that Val felt, not even troubled. No, he looked thoughtful, damp hair held off his forehead with one hand, the other resting on his hip.

“Iskander!” Val tried again, louder this time.

And Iskander…smiled. Just a slow curling at the corners of his mouth. “Huh,” he said under his breath.

In the center of the yard, Vlad pushed Mehmet back with a sequence of quick, brutal strikes. The blunted steel hissed and cracked as it was met again and again. Sweat gleamed on their brows; both had their teeth bared, gritted, fangs in full view.

The heir tripped, and went down on one knee.

Vlad lifted his sword high, prepared to strike.

Val didn’t want to watch, but couldn’t look away.

The old janissary moved, finally, and took a few lurching strides toward them. “Hey, that’s enough!”

The movement caught Vlad’s attention. He turned his head – just a fraction, but it was enough.

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