THE IMPALER'S WIFE

22 ~ ILONA ~

22

ILONA

Spring 1467

Buda Castle, Hungary

I kneel before Jesus and pray. Or rather I try to pray. Other thoughts occupy my mind. Shameful thoughts.

Beside me, Margit's lips move in silent prayer.

I try again. I must stop thinking about last night that I may honor Vlad's request.

"You are the wife of a deposed sovereign, Ilona," he had said this morning before I left for the chapel. "You must pray for the people of Wallachia and for the lands of Făgăras and Amlaş. You must pray that I, the true prince, will reunite with my people."

"If you like." I had kissed him on the cheek.

"This is not a frivolous request." His fingers had squeezed my hand and his eyes had hardened. "It is your duty to beseech God with fervent prayers. You must pray for the farmers, merchants, and boyars. You are a princess now, and along with the benefits of nobility comes the burden of pleading the case of your people before God."

"I will pray most fervently," I had said, his serious face and tone made me uneasy. "Come with me, my lord. Surely God cannot refuse two devout supplicants. Together we—"

His warm lips had silenced me.

Vlad broke the kiss with a quick nip to my bottom lip. "Your prayers come from a virtuous heart because you never felt treachery's sting nor vengeance's burden. I have tasted hatred, thus my prayers are not as pure as yours."

"But you're a Catholic now. Any prayer you utter is as worthy as mine."

"I wish it were so." Vlad had arranged the veil over my hair. "Your duties as Princess of Wallachia begin today. Plead to God for my restoration."

With his request echoing in my ear, I squeeze shut my eyes and focus my thoughts. I pray for the boyars, the wives, children, farmers, merchants, shepherds, and guildsmen. I pray for Wallachia, Făgăras and Amlaş. I pray with such fervency that God's approval warms my soul and fills me with peace.

Margit hooks her arm around mine as we walk out the chapel door. "Are the marital duties dispensed with already?"

"I..." I look away.

"Tell me everything." Margit leans in. "Please, Ilona. What is it like? The ladies at court either giggle or roll their eyes when I ask." She puts her mouth to my ear. "Did you see it?"

I nod, my face ablaze with embarrassment.

"Tell me." Margit's tone is more demand than request.

Two years ago, when Margit was less viperous, I would have shared every detail. But I no longer trust her. Neither do I want her as an enemy. "Walk with me."

We go to the courtyard and wander through the gardens.

Margit frowns as she studies my face in the bright afternoon light. "You don't look any different."

"I feeldifferent. He...we...I don't know if I can explain it."

"You must." Margit affects a charming pout. "Did it hurt?"

"For a moment only but then..."

Margit's eyes grow wide as saucers. "Then..."

"There is an ache inside of you. Not a painful ache, more like a tension. This grows until you think you will burst from the agony—"