Page 72 of Dragon Slayer

But he could bear it. If not gladly, then at least willingly.

That night, Vlad curled up on his side on his pallet, facing the window, his back to his brother. He listened to Val’s near-silent footfalls as he crept up close and then knelt down on the cushions behind him.

“Vlad,” he said, just a sad breath of sound. “Are you hurt badly?”

Vlad took a breath in through his mouth, shallow, so the bruised skin over his ribs didn’t stretch too much.

As if a handful of bruises were the real pain.

“Go to sleep, Radu,” he said.

Behind him: a gasp, low and shocked. “Vlad.”

Mother had given him the name Valerian. He loved that name – loved that it was asignof her love. Vlad had never minded that Val was the favorite, and he’d always used his real name, the one he preferred.

“Vlad,” he said again, voice choked with tears. “Why would you–”

“Go to sleep.”

Long moments passed, Val struggling not to cry. And then he finally shifted away and went to lie on his own, as-of-yet-untouched pallet.

Vlad listened to him quietly cry himself to sleep. He never slept at all, himself; he watched the stars wink out, one by one, until pink dawn touched the sky and it was time to rise and play hostage again.

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