“Beautiful, she was. Long dark hair and big brown eyes, she was taller than the other women, taller than me. And bored. She looked especially bored. Instead of leaving, I stayed for the evening meal and watched her?—”
“But not in a creepy way, right?” I interrupted. “You didn’t scare her, did you?”
Clive’s shoe tapped my sneaker.
“What?” I said to Clive. “I like him and all, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay for him to be creeping on some poor teenager.”
Vlad closed his eyes a moment, his expression relaxing almost into a smile. “No. I did not bother her, merely watched as her father negotiated a marriage for her with an old man, a wealthy one with a rattling cough and large boils on his neck.
“She clearly wasn’t interested, so her father yanked her away from the others to hiss in her ear, his meaty fingers digging into her arm. I wanted to beat him for that alone, but it wasn’t my place to intervene. Had the father pushed it, I was contemplating asking the king to step in. He owed me.”
“That was nice of you,” I said.
He tipped his head to me. “Ah, yes. I’m famed the world over for my niceness.” With a little headshake, he continued, “Ilona was even more strong-willed than she was beautiful. He sent her away from the excitement and glamour of the palace to punish her while continuing negotiations.”
“Probably also to control her,” I said. “To keep her away from other men while he got the best price for her.”
Nodding, Vlad continued, “Yes. His goal had been to hide her away in the country home until it was time for the wedding. She traveled by carriage with servants. A little after sunset, they were overtaken by thieves.”
“Oh, no.” I’d read stories. Usually they just robbed, but often they were more violent.
“The carriage driver carried a dagger, which he pulled, so he was the first to die. Ilona’s family was wealthy. The horses alone were worth quite a lot. The thieves killed everyone and drove the carriage with all her belongings away.”
At my confused look, Vlad continued, “Ilona was injured and left for dead. Had she not been so stubborn, she probably would have bled out with the others by the side of the road. Instead, she ripped her chemise and staunched the wound in her chest.”
He tapped the space between his heart and shoulder. “Lucky shot. She knew enough about hunting to not try to yank the arrow out. She broke off the shaft and began the long walk home.
“The stench of blood and death drew predators. She was exhausted and blood loss was taking away what little strength she had. She wanted to rest but heard the howl of a wolf and kept going.”
I drew my legs up and wrapped my arms around them.
“The wolf tracked her and attacked. She fought as best she could, but he was far stronger. He didn’t eat her, as he had some of the others in her party. Probably too full by then. When he left her, she was bleeding from multiple injuries, her body hidden in the brush.
“She said she heard riders pass on the road but didn’t have the energy or voice to call out. Angry, cursing her father for sending her to her death, she finally slept, assuming death had come for her. Instead, she eventually felt the warmth of the sun and blinked her eyes open to a new day.”
His fingers twitched. “She got herself up, her dress torn and covered in blood, and walked. It was after nightfall when she made it home. The servants panicked, wanting to call for help, but Ilona assured them she was fine. Never felt better, in fact.”
Twenty
Werewolves Bite First and Ask Questions Later
“At the palace,” Vlad continued, “I threatened the boil-ridden man to say no to her father. He was quite upset, but I assured him he’d be at the end of a long, sharp pike if he pursued the marriage.”
“Nice,” I said, grinning.
“He means it,” Clive murmured, and I remembered the Impaler part of Vlad’s name.
“Oh, yeah,” I muttered.
Vlad smiled, and it was terrifying. “No one had yet heard about the attack on the road. Ilona hadn’t sent word to her father, no doubt because she hated him and didn’t want to be called back for a wedding.”
“I realize it may pale in comparison to escaping death—twice—but I’m sure she appreciated being saved from the boil-ridden man,” I said.
He nodded. “I went in search of her, to tell her I’d stopped the alliance, and to offer myself instead. I took a room at a lodge an hour’s ride away and returned each day to court her. At first, I’d been struck by her beauty, but as we talked, I found—as you said about your husband—her beauty was the least interesting thing about her.”
He stared into the fire. “She was smart, witty—I wasn’t used to that—and strong. She loved challenging me, wanting to hear the stories of war and then arguing how I’d done it all wrong and what she would have done in my place.”
Clive looked up with a smile, reached over and squeezed my hand, and then went back to researching.
