Page 88 of Dragon Slayer

~*~

George found him in the chapel that afternoon. “Mehmet’s healing well, they say,” he said as he dropped down onto the pew beside Vlad. “Then again, they wouldn’t say if he wasn’t. So. Anyone’s guess, really.”

Vlad nodded to himself.

George sighed. “What happened to being patient, Vlad?”

“I am patient. But I needed to settle the score.”

Another sigh, weary and long-suffering.

“You disagree?”

“No, I…no,” George admitted. When Vlad said nothing else, George prompted, “So that was it? A beating for a beating? That was your plan?”

Strange as it seemed, the older boy seemed not only curious, but lost, too. Searching for answers.

“I did want to beat him, yes,” Vlad said. “I also needed to know how strong he was.” He left off the part about the blood. He’d come as close to trusting Iskander Bey as he ever had anyone, but there were some things he would never voice to someone outside his immortal family.

“Yes? And what were your findings on that matter?”

Vlad smirked. “He might be immortal, but he’s not as strong as me.” And there was somethingwrongin his blood. Romulus’s famous taint. He had not a single bred child, and now Vlad thought he understood why.

“And now what will you do?” Less curiosity, more test.

Vlad turned to face him, brows raised.

“Press your strength advantage? Kill him?”

“Speak plainly.”

George chuckled. “You are stubborn.” Then it faded. “When Mehmet first came to court, before I knew what he was, I thought I could have killed him. During practice, during a sparring session, just like yesterday. Now, I know that he could have healed–”

“The heart.”

“What?”

“Vampires can overcome even the most grievous of wounds – save those mortal to the heart. Cut it out, ruin it beyond repair: it’s the heart that counts.”

George’s face went blank with surprise. “Huh.”

“Just thought I’d pass that along.”

“Alright. Yes. Well. As I was saying, I could have. Or at least tried. But I didn’t. Because it isn’t just about the immediate victory. If I’d killed Mehmet, they would have impaled me and mounted me on the wall as an example to the others. And then another heir would have been chosen. Legitimacy isn’t an issue with the Ottomans; Murat doubtless has other get, or could have gotten more. The empire would have ruled on, Mehmet or no. That kind of assassination wouldn’t have helped my people – nor any of the people forced to live as vassals.

“But,” he continued, eyes shining, “if Mehmet is beaten in the field, if the empire is forced out, thatwillmake a difference. I meant what I said before about the long game. It isn’t about me, here and now, or you, or any of us hostages. It’s about fighting for the freedom of our people.”

“That…makes sense.”

Tone wry, George said, “Then why do I have the feeling I’ll have to remind you of the fact often?”

Vlad shrugged. “I’m just stubborn.”

~*~

Val dream-walked to Father’s study that night. It was late, but a dozen candles flickered, the room dancing with light. Mircea sat at the desk; the heavy wooden piece with its ornate chair had always suited father, but looked comically large swallowing up Val’s brother. Like a boy playing pretend – only it was real, and all the more tragic for it.

Val cleared his throat as he stepped up to the desk, so as not to startle him.

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