“Wallachia,” she whispered, remembering her history. “You speak of your namesake, Prince Mircea the Second?”
“Yes, I speak of Mircea. The son of the dragon.” His lips quirked. “How he hated that name, for humans little realize the enmity dreki and dragons share.”
“Mircea died and his younger brother, Vlad, took the throne.”
“The Impaler.” A humorless smile graced his lips. “According to human history, I believe you may be right. Mircea died in the minds of all mortal memory. But unofficially….”
Alina found herself curious, despite herself. “Unofficially?”
“Mircea was barely nineteen when he was named voivode by a council of boyars hungry to control him. Dreki are considered adults only once they reach their sixtieth year, but the council had not counted on Mircea’s pride nor his hunger to prove himself. He was a dangerous warrior and won many battles, but…. He did not wear a leash well and so his fellows plotted to overthrow him. They tortured him and blinded him with red hot pokers,” Mircea said softly, “and then they buried him alive. And so, the voivode died to human history, though the dreki prince survived. Barely.”
Despite herself, she felt a moment’s horror for the creature.
“The earth called to him and he lingered deep within it for some decades, perhaps a century. He was barely conscious within the first few decades, and the pain was incredible. But dreki rule the elements, and he was able to use his gifts of Earth and Fire to slowly heal himself. When he finally broke through the surface, he feared he would be blind, for dreki cannot regrow what has been taken, but there were enough… remnants of his body left to heal. He could see, he could fly, and he could still breathe fire in his dreki form, but everything he had once known was gone. His clan had been decimated and his family line had dwindled into nothingness. But for the first time, he was free. Free of the yoke of destiny his family had demanded of him. Free of the burden of his name. Free to live as a creature that ruled the skies once again.”
Mircea reined his stallion in as the road broke through the birch, leaving them with a clear view of the lake ahead of them. “And he chose this volcanic lake as his new home, living in relative peace.”
“You almost sound as though you admire him.”
Mircea’s lashes half shuttered his eyes. “Perhaps I merely feel a kinship for him. We have both lost families. And we have both lived a long and lonely life searching for something that would make our hearts beat again.”
“The only difference is that you are not a killer.”
Their gazes clashed.
“Let me finish this part of the story for you.” Alina swallowed as she stared at the lake’s placid surface. “The dreki lived a long and lonely life until one day a girl appeared, helping her parents gather wood. And when she wandered out of sight, all she heard was the screaming of her parents as he tore into them with his teeth. And she brandished a staff of birch and sprinted toward their cries, desperate to help them, but she slipped on the wet path and tumbled over a stony ledge. By the time she hit the ground, she could barely lift her head, only to see the dreki swooping once more. And then—”
“Nothing,” he told her. “You remember nothing from that point, except waking alone in the grass.”
Alina turned her mare’s head, fighting the urge to lash out at him. “You weren’t there. You didn’t see their bodies. And the boy who found me said when he ran toward me, he saw the dreki rise from where I was lying. When I saw what remained of my parents….”
“If I could have spared you that, then I would have, Lina.”
She shook the thoughts away angrily. “He deserves to die. Tortured prince, or no tortured prince. And I will be the one to end him.”
She drove Bela into a canter, a pulse of rage pounding through her veins.
*
Lake Saint Anne was wide, but it wasn’t very deep.
Alina followed the innkeeper’s directions, and found the long grassy verge where the boys had been attacked. It was several hundred feet from where her parents had died, and she couldn’t help looking that way as she dismounted Bela and tied the mare to a tree.
Swinging the enormous crossbow she carried over her shoulder, she headed toward the lake.
Both attacks had occurred within twenty feet of the lake. It stirred uneasiness through her—Mircea had taught her to trust her instincts when it came to hunting monsters—but a glance at the lake’s surface found it dark and placid.
Nothing could have lived within the lake.
Nothing of that size, anyway.
And she’d seen the dreki in the skies.
“Here,” she said, finding an enormous imprint in the reeds near the lake’s surface. The villagers had said the boys had been standing by this point when they were attacked, though the rain had washed away any evidence of them, and the underbelly of the dreki almost obliterated the reeds, carving a huge swathe in the mud that wasn’t going to fade anytime soon.
Alina stalked along the edge of the lake, frowning a little. “It came from the water. Perhaps it was… drinking when they came across it.”
Mircea watched the lake, his hand resting tensely on the hilt of his sword. “There are no claw marks.”
“What?”
“You can see where the creature’s body slithered through the reeds, but there are no claw marks in the mud,” he told her, glancing toward the impression she knelt beside. “Dreki have forearms and hind legs. Their weight is kept off the ground, and if this had been a dreki, then there would have been claw marks.”
“It rained.”
He pointed toward the channel in the mud. “Claws rake divots in the soil which would be full of water by now, and they slash through stone. If the rain couldn’t entirely wash away the sign of the creature’s passage, then you should still see claw marks.”
Alina knelt.
He was right. There were no claw marks. And the enormous runnel that marked its passage revealed it had slithered through the mud.
This didn’t make sense.
“Alina?” he murmured.
“It has to be here. Somewhere. And I will find it. Keep an eye on the skies. I want to see if there are any more tracks.”
Somewhere along this beach, there had to be claw marks.
Because she’d seen the dreki in the skies, and even though she’d struck her head that day, she knew she hadn’t imagined it.
*
Hours of trooping through the cold mud left Alina hungry and frustrated. They found nothing more than the original muddy marks, and were forced to retreat to the inn to consider their strategy.
Alina took a bath at the inn and then slipped downstairs to the common room, where she knew Mircea would be waiting. He liked to listen to others talking, and often asked after the local folklore of the region.
And there he was.
She paused in the doorway, taking the chance to examine him as he laughed by the hearth with an old man who nursed a tankard of ale.
Firelight gilded his olive skin, and he’d managed to remove the dark stubble that lined his jaw—which meant he’d bathed too. Her gaze stole guiltily to his mouth, but as if he sensed it, he looked up.
There was no surprise in his eyes. He’d known she was there. And the heat in his eyes revealed he was aware she’d been looking her fill.
Suddenly, she could feel that kiss branding her lips again.
“This is old Emil,” Mircea called, gesturing to his new friend. “Come and join us.”
Alina greeted Emil politely, recognizing the man’s filmy eyes. She could vaguely recall him from her youth, though as a child she’d paid little attention to the elders of her village. Sometimes her mother had delivered stew to him, saying that when God struck a man blind, it was upon the good nature of his neighbors to help him.
“You are hunting the lake monster, Mircea tells me.” Emil turned toward her.
“Lake monster?” she asked.
“I thought it a dragon.” She spared a look at Mircea’s face. “Or a dreki.”
“Ah.” Emil sipped from his mug. “You have heard the tales of the local dreki prince. He did not kill those boys. He is the lake’s protector, not a monster who gluts himself on blood. No, this is something else, as I was telling Mircea.”
“You seem quite certain of that.”
“I am. I met the dreki once, a long time ago. He came to this very tavern, seeking shelter from the storm, and companionship.” Emil’s voice grew awed. “A huge, towering figure of a man—”
“What did he look like?” she demanded.
“Just a man, I’m sure,” Mircea said.
“Aye.” Emil agreed. “Though you will always know a dreki for his eyes—”
Mircea snorted loudly. “Aye, and his horns, and the size of his cock—”
Emil laughed. “Well, I’ll leave the ladies to tell such tales. I must admit, I did not particularly notice, though his eyes….” He gave a shiver. “He wasn’t human, that was for sure. His pupils were slit like a cat’s when he blinked, and the storm arrived on his heels and vanished when he departed.”
Cat-slit. She stole Mircea’s tankard off him, filing that fact away for later. “What was he doing here?”
“He wanted ale and good food, and seemed content to while away the time listening to my stories.” Emil paused. “I think he may have been lonely. I’ve heard tell he’s been seen in these parts for centuries—a fierce black beast that rules the skies—but only one. Never another.” The old man rubbed at his jaw. “He hasn’t been seen in years though…. The last time I heard tell of him—”
“Maybe he moved on,” Mircea cut in.
Alina looked at him sharply. Why did he keep interrupting? It was most unlike him. “Maybe we should listen to what Emil has to say.”
“Ten years or so,” Emil mused. “Near enough. I can’t quite remember, but the last time he was spotted, it was the summer that poor Dragavei girl lost her parents by the lake.”
Alina froze. “Eight years.”
“What?”
“It was eight years ago,” she said slowly.
“Aye. You’ve been talking to the locals.” The old man nodded. “‘Tis a shame though. He was an interesting creature and I’ve often longed to speak with him again, before I die. Though I suppose I can’t blame him for not rejoining us.”
“Oh?” She forced her voice to lighten.
“I heard tell from a peddler passing through that when they’re in human form, it’s the only time they’re truly mortal.”
“You cannot kill one in dreki form?”
She could feel Mircea’s eyes upon her, but this was important. Why had he never told her how to kill a dreki? He knew seemingly everything about every other monster.
“If you had the luck of the gods on your side, girl,” Emil said. “Their scales are harder than any shield, they breathe fire, and their points of vulnerability are few. No. The only time they’re truly vulnerable is when they’re in mortal form, though I daresay I’ll wish you good luck to convince one to risk it.”
*
Morning dawned, and Alina crawled from her bed and got dressed, though she’d gained little rest.
She’d spent all night tossing and turning, and finally worked her way through the knot of her country’s history.
Mircea.
Vlad the Impaler’s brother had been named Mircea.
Which meant the dreki prince who guarded the lake was named Mircea.
And he could shift into human form.
She couldn’t help shooting a glance at Mircea’s broad back as they saddled the horses. It was a common name in this part of her country. And his pupils were normal, though his hazel eyes were more gold than brown. She’d always thought his eyes extraordinary, though she’d never thought them inhuman.
It was a ridiculous suspicion stirred by the prospect that the lake’s dreki hadn’t been seen in eight years. The same amount of time Mircea had ridden with her.
Alina chewed on the thought. Not once had she seen a dreki in the skies during their ventures together. And why would the lake’s dreki attack her parents, shift shapes into mortal form, and then follow along on the heels of a newly orphaned girl?
She had no answers for it, though she couldn’t help feeling discord brew in her belly, as if something felt wrong.
It had to be mere coincidence.
They reached the lake and Alina stared at the murky surface.
“You’re distracted,” Mircea said, appearing at her knee. “You can’t afford distraction. Not here.”
She swung down from the saddle. “I didn’t get much sleep.”
“I know.” Instead of giving her space, he refused to back away, and she found herself staring up into those eyes. “Why?”
Alina slipped past him, her hip grazing his thigh as she tied Bela to a tree. Maybe it was time to confront him about certain truths. “Why did you offer to train me to hunt monsters? You said you’d escort me as far as my uncle’s place in Brasov, but the night you were due to depart, you offered to let me ride with you. Why?”
“I don’t see why this is a sudden concern.”
Alina spun back to him. “You tell me you’re a mercenary who hunts monsters for coin. Why would you have wanted a stupid young girl riding along with you?” She breathed out a laugh. “I must have cried a thousand tears that summer. And I was no good with a sword, or even a knife. Why would you have wanted to train me?”
None of it made sense.
Why had he rescued her that night?
Why offer to escort her to her uncle’s?
And why, when the time finally came for them to part, had he blurted out a new offer for her? A means to avenge herself and her family.
Soft rain began to fall, which meant his hair would curl. Alina stared up at him, her chest heaving as she waited desperately for an answer.
Mircea’s eyelids lowered, shielding the truth from his eyes. “You were never a stupid young girl. You were hurt. You were angry. Alone. And I felt that. I had been there myself. And if you locked yourself away at your uncle’s, you would have let it eat you away from the inside out.”
“But why would you care? I should have been just a passer-by. And you were never interested in….”
“In?” his voice roughened.
“Me,” she told him, tilting her chin up.
“Not at first.” They were careful words. “Not… not like that. As I said, you were lost to your grief.”
“Then why?”
Mircea cursed under his breath. “This is not the time for this—”
Not the time? Doubt filled her. She slammed both hands against his chest. Then again. He captured her wrists, and despite the fact he was so much bigger than she was—so much stronger—she tried to hit him again.
Rain poured down over them.
“You were a stranger who swept into my life one stormy night when I thought all was lost,” she told him. “And I just realized I don’t know very much about you.”
“You know the important things.”
Another oblique answer. Did she dare confront him? “I know that Emil told me last night that dreki can take human form, and I spent all night wondering at the coincidences…. I see a dreki in the sky the day my parents die, and then you ride into my life. A man who hunts the monster of this world. A man with no past. A man with no friends. No family. A man who knows all these intriguing facts about the world and its creatures. A man who seems insistent on staying by my side.”
A muscle in his jaw flexed. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m not trying to say anything, damn you. I’m asking. Why did you ride with me? Why me? Give me a reason.”
One that didn’t involve mythical creatures.
It wasn’t because he’d killed her parents and had discovered a fascination with her.
It couldn’t be.
Becaus
e such a truth would not only break her heart, it would shatter it.
Alina’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Why did you kiss me the other night?”
Mircea cursed again, hauling her forward into his arms. “I rode with you because I could no sooner have walked away from you than I could have cut off my own hand. The second I saw you I recognized… a fire within you.” His hand stroked up her spine, curling around the back of her skull, but his lips brushed against her forehead. “You were too broken-hearted for there to be anything else between us. Too angry at the world. But you were destined to be mine the second I saw you.”
He tugged on her braid, tilting her head back so she was forced to meet his gaze. “And I kissed you because I wanted to. I kissed you because I’ve spent years imagining what your mouth would taste like.”
The whisper of his breath caressed her lips. “You walked away.”
“I had to.” Need turned his eyes molten, and his thumbs brushed her cheeks. “The next time we kiss, there will be no walking away Lina.”
“Will there be a next time?”
“There will be a next time.” His lashes obscured the smoldering heat of his glance. “But not today. Not now. Not while we’re hunting. You need to finish this quest. You need to know the truth, so you can finally lay the past to rest.”
Alina closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. “You confuse me so much.”
“I do?” The words were a rumble beside her ear. “Then know you’re not alone. You have always confused me.” Mircea set a finger beneath her chin and tipped it up. Their gazes met. “I wish I could tell you everything. I wish we could—”
“Could—?”
Mircea pressed a finger to her lips, stopping the spill of words as his head whipped to the side.
Water churned out of the corner of her eye. Alina’s attention snapped to the lake just as an enormous creature launched itself from the dark waters. Blank spaces where its eyes should have been. Gaping mouth. Teeth the size of her arm.
Holy—
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