Brothers and Sisters

It's National Siblings Day! I have a real life brother, with whom I'm co-writing a real life novel...but it's early stages and Top Secret still, so, I can't talk about that book. Which also features a pair of siblings! 

I've had the chance to write about a good many siblings in my author career thus far, and I don't see that changing anytime soon. There have been BIG families, like the Walkers. Estranged siblings like Layla and Johnny in the Russell series. Keeping-it-real brothers and sisters, like Aidan and Ava; I like that Ava is always ready to take her brother down a notch or two, because he always needs it. There have been found family brothers, like Aidan and Tango, or Aidan and Mercy. The club brotherhood. And there's been the Brood, which is honestly so much more entertaining and fun to write than any of those individual characters' potential romances. If readers had wanted books about Raven being kickass, and Cass learning how to be kickass, we could have had some fun there. But I get it: romance only. Le sigh. 

And then, now, there's Vlad and Val. Largely inspired by two real-life brothers. My first royal siblings. My first tried-to-kill-each-other siblings. 

***

The next time he woke it was to the sound of a disapproving voice saying, “Sir, I’m sorry, but you don’t have clearance to–” The speaker cut off with an oomph. Val, even behind crusty, closed eyelids, swimming in drowsiness, recognized the sound of someone’s back hitting the wall.

And then: “Let me through.” Vlad. Low and commanding.

Vlad. No, no, no, no. Val curled in on himself; a whimper got caught in the back of his throat, too tired to even voice it properly. He was so tired, and he hurt so much, and no, no, no, no.

Flight instincts kicked in as he heard the key turn in the lock. Of course the guards were letting Vlad through; he didn’t have the power to compel; there were no mind tricks. It was simply his presence. His implacable stare, the reputation that still, alarmingly, dogged his heels in the twenty-first century.

Get up, get up, he thought, desperate, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. He managed to crack his eyes open a slit, just in time to get a blurry glimpse of Vlad’s boots as he came to stand over him. He opened his mouth to croak out some pitiful insult, but his throat was too dry, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

Vlad’s clothes rustled softly as he crouched down. And then…

Then.

A touch on his head. The gentle weight and warmth of a palm; he could feel it even through his tangled hair. And he squeezed his eyes shut, ashamed, because even after all that had happened, he could scent his brother, recognize his touch, and his muscles unclenched. Family. Safety. But it had never been safe, and Vlad didn’t want them to be family.

Vlad’s hand withdrew, and here it came: more pain. Val braced himself as much as he could, muscles feebly tightening in anticipation.

But there was no pain. Only Vlad’s hands, turning him over onto his back, and then his strong arms sliding under Val’s knees and behind his shoulders, and he was being lifted. His soreness spiked when he was moved, and he hissed, awash with pain – but it wasn’t intentional, was it? It was…it was…

Tears pushed at his eyelids, and he kept them shut tight as Vlad walked out of the cell, carrying him, Val’s head tucked into his chest. He smelled like modern human laundry, and sweat, and steel…and like his brother. Like Wallachia. Like home.

***

Romantic relationships may be the main event when it comes to fiction, but great stories need brothers and sisters, too, of all kinds. In fact, I've focused so much on the brother vs. brother dynamic of Dragon Slayer that I often forget to mention the romance. Which is there! One more slow-burn than the other. 

DS drops 4/30, and you can pre-order it here.