Free A Prince to be Feared: The love story of Vlad Dracula by Mary Lancaster Page A

great doors, the biting breeze cooled her overwarm cheeks. She had no cloak with her, but she found herself glad to step out into the cold, fresh air.
    Only when she heard him exhale beside her did she realise he’d been holding his breath. For an instant, she thought he would leap down the steps in one bound. She wished he would, so she could do the same. But he didn’t, merely ran down them lightly before turning, hand held out as if to help her to the bottom. As if he’d just recalled her presence.
    But she was already beside him. She saw another faint tug of his lips before he began to walk. With each stride, she saw the tension in his body ease. His shoulders sank almost imperceptibly lower, his mouth relaxed, and he actually smiled.
    Ilona said, “Either you really don’t like being cooped up, or you’re very pleased with yourself.”
    It wasn’t the sort of thing she should have said. Especially not to him . Even as the words tumbled out, she was aware of it, but he didn’t seem to mind.
    A breath of silent laughter escaped his lips. “Both,” he said.
    “Did the Ottomans keep you in close confinement?” She shouldn’t have asked that either, and his quick glance confirmed it. A frown twitched across his brow and vanished.
    “Some of the time,” he answered. “The worst time.”
    “How did you bear it?”
    “I really don’t think you want to know that.”
    “Don’t I?” she asked doubtfully. Then, answering herself, “Yes, I do.”
    The green eyes glinted; whether with amusement or annoyance, they were too veiled for her to tell. “Then I dreamed of fresh air—and revenge.”
    She continued to withstand his gaze, but it wasn’t easy. Her heart was thudding. “Against the Ottomans?” Or against my uncle?
    His eyes moved, looking beyond her. “Against the world, I expect.”
    She said nothing while he continued to gaze out over the peaceful Transylvanian countryside. It wasn’t always peaceful, of course, but you wouldn’t suspect so from the quiet brown and green fields spread out before them and the tiny figures working them. The oak forest spreading up the nearby hill looked as if it never harboured anything more dangerous than a few hedgehogs. Even the blue-green mountains, looming over everything, looked benevolent today.
    He said, “Don’t you want to know why I’m pleased?”
    “If you want to tell me.”
    “Count Hunyadi has made me an officer in his army, given me a post and residence at Sibiu.”
    Keeping him close—and safe. Stringing him along. Drawing the Wallachian’s teeth…
    “Is that what you wanted?” she asked as neutrally as she could.
    “It’s an opportunity,” he said, “which I would be foolish not to take.”
    An opportunity to learn warfare under the greatest commander of his day. An opportunity to shine and win support. And he would. She knew that he would.
    Almost to herself, she said, “Of course, you already have military experience.”
    “With the Ottomans,” he agreed shamelessly. “And I had the honour to serve under my uncle, the Prince of Moldavia, when we drove out the King of Poland’s soldiers.”
    She could feel excitement thrumming through his body as he walked beside her. For an instant, it blazed in his eyes too before he had them safely veiled again. When he turned them on her next, they were incalculably lighter. “And what of you, Ilona Szilágyi? You serve the countess now?”
    “Well, I annoy her and stand behind her at formal receptions.”
    “And are you happy?”
    Surprised, Ilona blinked. No one had ever asked her that. “Happy? Yes, I suppose so… What a strange question—why do you ask?”
    He shrugged. “I don’t know. You just make me think—this time as last—that you’re like me. Waiting. You said you were good at it.”
    She stared at him, incomprehension struggling against some half-understood truth.
    “And then I wonder,” he pursued, “what does a fifteen-year-old girl of good family wait