Page 52 of Dragon Slayer

Well, Val could say they weren’t going to do two of those things.

“Yes, Mama,” they said as a unit, and then ducked out into the hall.

“I mean it!” she called after them.

When they were far enough away for vampire ears, Val said, “You were really stupid.”

Vlad shoved him sideways into the wall. And took off at a sprint, laughing back over his shoulder.

Val growled and followed.

They hadn’t shared a bedchamber in some months, a change Val hated. He’d known the split was coming, and that it made sense. They were both growing up, and more importantly, Vlad was becoming a man. A slightly-scrawny, pale man, but a man nonetheless. He was beginning his official apprenticeship as a knight, and was well on his way to becoming a warrior of legend. It was time to leave childish things behind, including sharing a bed with his clingy little brother.

And Val knew that, as a prince in his own right, it was time to start thinking more like his brothers.

But he was six. And he’d never slept alone until a few months before, and he missed the warmth and weight that came with having his brother beside him. It still hit him with a fresh wave of surprise and loneliness every time he walked into his bedchamber, with only his clothes hung up in the wardrobe, and only one comb on the dressing table. Only his boots lined up at the end of the bed. The linens always cold when he slipped between the covers.

Tonight, he stuttered on the threshold, the now-normal melancholy hitching, jumping, and then leaving him. Vlad was right on his heels, pushing the door shut and climbing up onto the bed with him. He was grinning by the time they settled.

“What?” Vlad asked. He was impatient, bristling with anticipation.

“Nothing.” Val lay down with his head on the pillow and folded his arms over his middle. Took a deep breath. “Alright.” He shut his eyes. “Wake me if someone comes.”

“I will.”

It took longer than it usually did to go under. The excitement of the evening, his heartbeat racing from running, the thrill of doing something forbidden…and the fear. Vlad had no hesitation when it came to disobedience, but it always made Val’s stomach squirm.

Down, down, down, he thought. He envisioned the fall, and the subsequent rise, and then he was doing it, and found himself in the cool dark plane that existed between his physical body and his destination. And then it was down again, his blood calling him back to earth, and he opened his eyes as he coalesced in a dark corner of his father’s study.

Cicero and Caesar stood sentry on either side of the door, backs flat to the wall, gazes carefully blank. They missed nothing, Val knew.

In fact, Cicero cocked his head, and his eyes swept slowly up to meet Val’s gaze.

Val winced, and he almost bolted, almost went flying back to his body. But he made a pleading face and shook his head.Please don’t say anything. The wolf gave him a long, penetrating look, then turned his head away.

Val let out a deep breath and looked toward Father’s desk.

Dracul sat behind it, Mircea at his side, and Hunyadi had been given a lavish chair across from them. A pitcher of rich red wine sat in the center of the desk, and all three of them held cups, though Mircea’s pressed-together lips and white cheeks revealed that he wasn’t drinking his. He was nervous; if Val had been there in person, he would have been able to smell the apprehension on him.

Val wasn’t even there, andhewas apprehensive.

Remus of Rome was a literal living legend. But right now, tonight, Father was Vlad Dracul, and even if he was a good and fair prince, he wasn’t the celebrity in the room. No, that honor went to John Hunyadi. Who currently studied Father with a shrewd gaze.

Everything Val had ever heard about the man hit him all at once. He was purported to be charming, and Val had seen him dancing tonight – with Mother, even, smiling at her as he spun her across the clean-swept stones once the trestle tables had been cleared away. He was said to be a wealthy man – the Holy Roman Emperor borrowed fromhim, as opposed to the other way around. And Father said he was ambitious; that he wanted not merely to defend Christendom, but that he wanted all of Eastern Europe for himself and for his sons.

“Ambition is a thing that gets men killed,”Father had said once, his frown deep and contemplative.“Or, maybe worse: gets a man ruined.”

Val tried to steady his breathing and settled in to watch.

“A lovely dinner,” Hunyadi said, voice deceptively conversational.

Father lifted his cup and took a slow swallow of wine. “I’ll be sure to pass your compliments along to our cook.”

“You do that.”

“It’s an honor to have you here with us, my lord,” Mircea said, voice paler and meeker than Val was used to. Half-human or not, Mircea was the most rational and easygoing of the three of them, the one with the best manners. But tonight he had shrunk down into himself, and the idea chafed at Val.

“Aren’t you the perfect little prince,” Hunyadi said with a soft laugh. His voice was kind, and not mocking, his smile genuine.

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