And I Darken (The Conquerors Saga #1) - Kiersten White Page 0,4
not see her face through her tangled drape of hair until Aron twisted to the side, revealing Lada’s teeth sunk into his shoulder.
Andrei shoved Radu away and rushed forward to help his cousin. Lada released Aron, jumping off his back and crouching down. Her eyes narrowed. Andrei was eleven, the same age as Lada, but bigger than she was. Aron stumbled to a tree and leaned against it, crying and clutching his shoulder.
Lada smiled at Andrei, her teeth coated in blood.
“You demon girl, I—”
Lada stood and slammed her hand into Andrei’s nose. He screamed, dropping to his knees and sniveling. Lada walked after him, then kicked his side so that he fell onto his back. He stared up at her as he choked on the blood streaming from his nose. She put her foot on his throat and pushed, just enough to make his eyes bulge in panic.
“Get out of my forest,” she snarled.
She lifted her foot and watched, eyes hooded, as Andrei and Aron put their arms around each other, all traces of bravado gone. They ran.
Radu wiped his face on his sleeve, leaving behind a mess of blood and dirt. He looked at Lada, standing in the middle of a shaft of light that filtered through a gap in the thick branches. For once in his life, he was grateful for her vicious temper, for her strange instinctive knowledge of the best way to hurt someone with the least amount of work. He was so tired and so scared, and she had saved him. “Thank you.” He stumbled toward her with arms outstretched. When he was hurting, his nurse folded him into herself, sealing him away from the world. He wanted—needed—that now.
Lada hit him in the stomach. He doubled over in pain, sinking to his knees. She knelt next to him, grasping him by the ears. “Do not thank me. All I did was teach them to fear me. How does that help you? Next time you hit first, you hit harder, you make certain that your name means fear and pain. I will not be here to save you again.”
Radu trembled, trying not to cry. He knew Lada hated it when he cried, but she had hurt him. And she had tasked him with something impossible. The other boys were bigger, meaner, faster. Whatever made Lada better than them had skipped him entirely.
He spent the long, miserable walk out of the forest trailing his sister, wondering how he could be like her. The boyars sat waiting under tents, gossiping as servants fanned them. Mircea was there, talking with Vlad Danesti, and his expression when he saw Radu’s face indicated that he approved of the damage to it. And, perhaps, he wished to do more.
Radu stepped more fully behind Lada; all other eyes were on her anyway. The boyars were astonished to see the prince’s daughter walk out of the forest with her head held high. No one was surprised to see Radu filthy and bloodied, although he wasn’t as bloodied as Aron and Andrei. In their haste to flee Lada, the Danesti cousins had gotten lost and had to be rescued.
After that, the forest lessons were canceled, and the boyar families whispered among themselves about the prince’s daughter. She had always outpaced the boys her age with riding skills and demanded to be taught everything her brother was, but this was far more public. Rather than scolding Lada, their father laughed and boasted of his daughter, as wild and fierce as a boar. If it had been Radu who had come out of the forest victorious, would he have even noticed?
Radu heard it all, hiding behind tapestries, waiting in dark corners. He had seen Aron and Andrei watching him, but after two weeks they had yet to catch him alone. When adults were present, Radu could smile and charm and remain safe.
Lada had been right. She had not saved him. The looks in his enemies’ eyes when they saw him made that clear.
So he waited, and he hid, and he observed. And then, one crisp autumn evening, he made his move.
“Hello,” he said, voice cheery and bright enough to light up the twilight.
The servant boy startled, jumping as though struck. “May I help you?” His shirt was nearly worn through. Radu could see the sharp lines of his collarbones, the brittle length of his skinny arms. They were probably the same age, but Radu’s life had been much kinder. At least as far as having enough food.