THE IMPALER'S WIFE

2 ~ ILONA ~

Spring 1464

Székesfehérvár, Hungary

"That's my future husband." My sister Margit jabs me with her elbow. "Prince Vlad."

Stunned by her announcement, I scoot forward on the bench and crane my neck. The cathedral is packed with dignitaries for cousin Matthias' coronation. Getting a clear view of Prince Vlad seated with all the other nobles across the aisle proves difficult. I lean forward but it's futile, a stout noble blocks the way. Another inch forward...my bottom teeters at the edge of the pew.

Vlad Dracula is a mystery. Courtiers debate his virtues and evils. Even Aunt Orsulya and Aunt Erzsébet argue over the truth of his fierce reputation. Is he really as ruthless as people claim? His nickname, the Impaler Prince, certainly suggests as much.

"Ilona, stop staring." Aunt Orsulya turns her hawk-like eyes on me.

I love my aunt, but her diligent guardianship of my earthly behavior and eternal soul israther excessive. She takes deathbed promises seriously, especially since it was my dying mother's wish that her daughters obey every royal rule and Catholic creed. "Why is Prince Vlad here? Since when does cousin Matthias–"

"King Matthias."

I roll my eyes. "Since when does King Matthias allow political detainees to attend coronations?"

"I don't know and don't care. Prince Vlad is of no consequence, his imprisonment is nothing but a diplomatic problem."

"Father spoke highly of him," I remind her.

Aunt Orsulya creases her brow. "Unless the diplomatic winds shift Vlad Dracula will remain little more than a condemned potentate with a notorious past." She digs her bony elbow into my side. "Do not catch his eye. He wants to solidify his ties with Hungary by marrying into the Hunyadi family."

My younger sister married before me? And to a prince?! Why was I not considered first? I look down to find my nails digging into my palms, a myriad of questions simmering in the pit of my belly. I sneak a peek at Vlad Dracula seated among members of the Diet. Aunt Orsulya is mistaken about Prince Vlad's insignificance if King Matthias sits him with such distinguished nobles.

Another peek later and the stout noble blocking my view settles back in the pew affording a good long look at Prince Vlad.

He is handsome, although not classically so, his face being much too intense. He wears a plumed cap and mink baveri—very rakish—and yet his straight mustache, almond eyes, and long thin nose give him a stern air. He turns to speak to the nobleman next to him, and the severe set of his mouth vanishes as his lips curl upward. His smile is wide and slightly lopsided, all grimness vanishing. I suck in my breath. Smiling Prince Vlad is very handsome and roguishly elegant. Not only that, he is certain to be far more interesting than all those simpering and dull courtiers who stride like peacocks about the palace.

Aunt Orsulya tugs on my sleeve. "Stop gawking and watch the ceremony."

I give my aunt an innocent smile before pretending to be impressed by the dignitaries in the chancel.

Aunt Orsulya narrows her eyes, frowns, then resumes watching the coronation.

She sees through me but because false smiles are more a courtly grace than a sin I do not worry for my soul. I used to worry about the state of my soul but after listening to the archbishop discuss Eternity and Grace and Penitence the more I think those notions are a way for ecclesiasts to control unschooled farmers and guildsmen. The conniving courtiers and scheming diplomats I know practice a much different creed. One of duplicity, ambition, lust, and cruelty. But of this I must remain silent and hide my understanding of highborn hypocrisy under courtly manners and layers of silk.