Page 120 of Dragon Slayer

He reached out, quick enough that Val tried to duck back – but then he relaxed when he realized Vlad was merely putting an arm around his shoulders, and drawing him in. Val came willingly, then, tucking in close, his head on Vlad’s shoulder. He breathed in shuddering gasps, his slight ribcage pressing against Vlad’s. Delicate as a flower stem.

Vlad held his brother, and tipped his head back, gaze going to the weathered wooden cross that hung above the altar.

God help me, he prayed.Help me kill them all.

~*~

He was called before Murat again the next morning. Clean-faced from his morning ablutions, surprised, he followed the slave sent to fetch him back to the old sultan’s audience chamber.

The vast space had been heated with coal braziers, and they did a remarkable job of pushing back the chill. Murat sat swaddled in furs, a great mink thrown across his lap, as tidy and imperious as ever. “Good morning,” he greeted.

Vlad didn’t bow. He came to stand in front of the man, hands linked behind his back, waiting. He’d allowed himself to grieve, silent and dry-eyed, in the chapel last night, while Val sobbed quietly into his shoulder, soaking his jacket. He let the fury and sadness sweep through him like a tide…and then forced it away. There was no time for that now. Emotion would serve no purpose.

“You seem very composed,” Murat observed, “for a man who’s been informed that his father and brother were brutally murdered by a pretender to the throne.”

“Shall I weep, Your Majesty?”

The old sultan chuckled. “My, but you are full of hate. No, I don’t think weeping suits you. But I think you should like to take action, no?”

Behind his back, Vlad clenched his hands together, tight, until he felt his nails score his skin.

“I think you want the heads of the men who killed your family.” A pause. The old fox was waiting, dropping little gaps, seeing if Vlad would barrel his way into them, red-faced and shouting. “I think you wantblood.” His brows jumped on the last word.Yes, I know what you are. I know what you drink.

Chin tilted upward, as coldly as he could manage, Vlad said, “And yet here I stand, Your Majesty. A prisoner. Unable to do anything.”

“So you do.” A long moment passed, the man’s gaze calculating. “You are still made of steel, I think.” Almost a note of approval in his voice. “Now, your brother is–”

“My brother is a child and a whore.”

Murat was silent a beat, but he said nothing more of Val. Good. It was better if he thought the boy was of no threat or importance. Whores got to live, while warriors were so frequently tested – for honor, for sport, for wickedness.

“Your father,” he said at last, “was, I think, an honorable man. So are you, in your own way. That is why I’m sending you home.”

Vlad fought valiantly to keep from reacting to that statement. His nails bit through skin, and blood pearled against his fingertips. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, and a fang nicked the tender flesh.

“Nothing to say?”

“I don’t see how such a thing is possible, Your Majesty.” But his bloodsang. Home. Revenge.

“Hmm.”

Coals hissed in the braziers. Cold wind whistled up high, at the edges of the window shutters.

In a low, even voice, Murat said, “I know who your father is, child.”

Vlad bristled. “You–”

A weathered, jeweled hand lifted, waving him to silence. “Did you forget who made my son immortal? I know of Romulus. And of Remus, who calls himself Vlad Dracul.Called,” he amended. “If what his former chancellor says is true, then his heart has been destroyed, and there is no hope of his regeneration.”

Vlad clenched his jaw against a curse.

“You may be immortal, but you are young. This is the way of the world, Vlad: strong men rule until stronger men come to cut them down and supplant them. One man’s god is another man’s devil.

“Your father lived a very long time, but he was killed by another man’s puppet. You shall have your revenge, and may it bring you peace. But only if you allow me to grant you the opportunity.”

“I…don’t understand.”

“I mean to free you. Completely. I will give you armor, and weapons, and a horse. Grant you your own cavalry regiment, and send you north with Mustafa Hassan and his infantrymen at your disposal. You will kill Vladislav, and take back Wallachia. It’s a vassal state of my empire, and I shall choose who sits on its throne. I choose you, Dracula, if you are man enough to set aside your hatred of me and take up this mantle.”

---