Page 20 of Dragon Slayer

One of the problems with realizing that she was in love with him was that there was stillso muchshe didn’t know about him (like if he was even real, an obnoxious inner voice pointed out). She didn’t really know anything about his family, and he didn’t know anything about hers.

“No. Mom couldn’t get off work, and Dad hasn’t been in the picture for a long time. So.” She shrugged, tried to look casual about it. Inwardly, her pulse kicked up a notch. Whether he was a regular boy you met at a coffee shop, or a noncorporeal vampire prince who could float through walls, it turned out telling the guy you loved about your family was a bit nerve-wracking.

He was silent a beat – a beat too long. “The two of you don’t get along?”

When she looked at him again, his pleasant half-smile seemed off: affixed to his face, unnatural.

She snorted and returned her attention to her jacket. “I haven’t spoken to him in five years. Yeah. We don’t get along. Sure.”

“May I ask why?” His smile wasn’t the only thing off; his voice was too.

Slowly, Mia set the roller on the ironing board. A shiver stole down her backbone; a premonition. One she chose to ignore for the moment. “The long answer,” she said, “is that he’s a biologist with about a dozen degrees, and all he’s ever cared about is work. He was never home; he never remembered birthdays, or any holidays, really. He spent one whole Christmas in his lab. When he got home,” she breathed a humorless laugh, remembering, “Mom started yelling at him and he just…shrugged. He never yelled back. He wouldn’t fight with her.” Her face heated; she’d said too much. “Short answer: he’s an emotionless asshole who never loved us. So. No. We don’t get along. I don’t think he even remembers I exist.”

“And you believe that?”

“What?”

“That he doesn’t know you exist? In my experience, even terrible fathers have regrets.”

She lifted her brows. “Speaking from personal experience?”

He grimaced. “Yes.”

In a careful voice, she said, “You never talk about your family.”

He blinked. “That’s not true.”

“You tell me about being a little boy in Tîrgoviste,” she pressed, gently. “About you and Vlad as boys. But nothing after that.”

He glanced away, throat rippling as he swallowed. “It isn’t a pleasant story.”

“But I would listen if you wanted to tell it.”

A pause. “I don’t.”

“Okay, fair enough. But the offer stands if you change your mind.”

~*~

She slept poorly. Her usual show nerves were overlaid with a sick ball of dread that turned over and over in her stomach like a stone. Val was under no obligation to tell her about his past…but the longer they went without discussing it, the more convinced she became that it was truly terrible.

Later, she told herself sternly.Worry about that later. She had two blue ribbons to win.

Her alarm went off at four, and she was too busy rushing between bedroom and bathroom, getting ready, to worry about whether Val would appear before she left for the barn. She’d told him the address of the park – “What, do you have some sort of psychic GPS?” – and the barn number. He could find her; right now, she needed to focus.

“Get deeper in the corner,” she murmured to her reflection as she braided her hair with the help of a lot of styling cream. Flyaways were an equestrian’s worst enemy. “Half-halt, half-halt-squeeze…” Donna’s instructions to her turned into a mantra. Her stomach felt tangled with too many butterflies.

She grabbed a PowerBar she was too nervous to eat, and the cooler she’d packed last night, and hit the road in the pitch blackness before dawn. When she got to Everdale, all the barn lights were on, blazing against the dark, the truck and trailer rig lit up with happy orange running lights. Donna had hooked up the four-horse; Mia had packed all her tack in the dressing room the night before.

It was thirty minutes of controlled chaos: Mia and her three fellow bleary-eyed-but-wired students woke and fed their horses; brushed them; wrapped their legs for travel; secured their leather head guards between their ears, attached to their sheepskin-padded halters. They all checked the tack room one last time to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything. Chuckled nervously with one another; show day camaraderie. Then Donna appeared, in fawn full-seats, white farm polo, and sunglasses…even though it was still dark out. She clapped her hands, once. “Let’s load up, ladies.”

Horses were led, snorting a little in anticipation of the trailer and early hour, to the ramp and loaded up. Then it was off for the park.

Dawn bloomed with the slow, purple unfurling of spring iris over the show barns, warm and honeyed.

Mia fastened Brando’s girth on the loosest holes, the first of several adjustments, and let out a long, slow breath that quavered at the end. Damn, she wasnervous.

A soft, fond, familiar voice spoke from behind her. “I don’t know why you’re worried. You’re the best horseman here.”

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