A Prince to be Feared: The love story of Vlad Dracula Read Online Free PDF

mostly, at László, who saw the threat as quickly as Ilona. László’s eyes dilated. Before he could suppress it, he made one quick instinctive movement to place himself between the children and Vlad.
    But he couldn’t. Vlad still stood close enough to Ilona to be touching her, and Matthias, unaware of the stranger’s history, had given in to natural curiosity and was fingering the carved hilt of the prince’s sword. László stilled.
    In some trepidation, Ilona turned her gaze up to Vlad. She could feel tension thrumming through his body. This was the son of the man who had once had the nerve to imprison John Hunyadi himself. A young man with many grudges and scores to settle, a man brought up from the age of eleven by the cruel, infidel Ottomans. Only minutes ago, her father had called him unpredictable.
    With his eyes still locked to László’s, he moved one hand, brushing Matthias’s stroking fingers aside, and drew the sword from its scabbard.
    Ilona, afraid to look away, held her breath and prepared to hurl herself in front of the child. She sensed rather than saw László sway forward as if desperately gauging his time to strike.
    But she was watching Vlad’s face; she recognised his fierce joy in thus holding them all in his power. Relief poured off her in a cool sweat. He wouldn’t hurt them. If he’d wanted to, he wouldn’t be taking this much pleasure in their fear of it… Would he?
    Vlad drew the sword free. László launched himself forward, but, ignoring him, Vlad turned the sword away from Matthias, pointing it straight up so that he could display the full glory of the carved hilt and glistening blade to the younger boy. Oh yes, he was enjoying this.
    “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said.
    László skidded to a halt.
    “Ooh yes,” breathed Matthias.
    Vlad said, “It was my father’s. A gift from the Emperor Sigismund, along with the Order of the Dragon.”
    Rumour said one of his father’s loyal boyars had ridden from Wallachia to Adrianople in only five days in order to pass these gifts to his heir. Presumably along with the news of the death of Vlad Dracul and the terrible murder of this youth’s older brother, Mircea.
    Ilona regarded him with increasing fascination and saw, among other things, that she’d been wrong. He wasn’t actually handsome at all. The strong bones of his face were too prominent, providing too many shadows and hollows for openness. His eyes were too heavily hooded, the lashes too long and thick for manliness, his nose too long and sharp, his lips a little too full with the faint outline of a long, dark moustache above. She thought he began to smile at Matthias, but a movement beyond him distracted her, and she saw that László, taking advantage of Vlad’s distraction, was about to make a sudden attack.
    Several thoughts chased instantaneously through Ilona’s mind, not least how tragic—and damaging—it would be for László and Vlad to kill each other here. Especially when the Wallachian presented no real threat, whatever impression he was trying to create. And yet she couldn’t say, Leave him alone, László, he’s harmless . She was well aware how insulting that would be to both of them.
    So, from more desperation than she hoped appeared in her voice, she blurted, “You might want to take that off to play.” She waved one hopefully careless hand at his sword and the scabbard at his hip.
    Again, László paused. Vlad’s intense gaze flickered to her in some bafflement.
    Well, I’ve started now. “Last one in the game is It,” she said serenely. Without looking, she knew both her sisters and László now wore appalled expressions.
    The menacing Dracula, however, drew in a breath that might have held laughter. At once his lower lip clamped over the upper, as though to hide it. But his eyes still glinted with something that looked like amusement. They held hers, considering, while he slowly resheathed the sword.
    At least some of the tension in the air