Bloodchild

by Kallysten

  “Would you like some?” she offered, but knew Savel would decline even before he did.

  Sitting down at the table, she cut a generous slice of bread and started to spread jam over it. She didn’t cut off the crust; she wasn’t a picky little girl anymore. She hadn’t yet taken her first bite when the door behind her opened. She turned back to see Aedan step inside. He paused on the threshold as though surprised to find the kitchen occupied. The reason for his presence was clear enough even if he half-hid the turkey-sized bird he carried behind his leg. That had to be the animal he’d fed from tonight, Vivien guessed. And it would be what Doril served for a meal tomorrow or the next day.

  “Dame Vivien,” he said with his usual bow.

  She acknowledged him with a nod of her head before turning back to her snack.

  “Good hunting?” she asked, pushing the jam to the very edges of the bread before putting down the knife and taking her first bite.

  “Good enough,” Aedan said guardedly.

  From the corner of her eye, she could see him stash the bird away in what served as the kitchen’s cold storage, a cupboard kept cold through the use of the Quickening.

  “Savel, I’ll take the guard,” Aedan said next. “You may go find some rest.”

  Without any display as to whether he was pleased or annoyed to be relieved of his duty, Savel bade them goodnight and left the kitchen. Aedan started to walk toward the door, no doubt to take his place next to it, but Vivien stopped him with a few words.

  “Would you just… sit down?”

  His protest that it wouldn’t be proper for him to do so was all too predictable, so before he could voice it, she added, “Please? It’ll feel less lonely than if you’re trying to disappear into the wall.”

  His hesitation was all too clear on his features, but after a beat he took the chair across from her and sat down, albeit as gingerly as if he’d sat on a bed of nails.

  He watched her eat for a moment, and it wasn’t long before the silence started to weigh on Vivien.

  “What’s that bird called?” she asked, turning to the first topic that crossed her mind. “The one you caught.”

  “A quortcot. They used to be domesticated. When we were children, the groundskeeper had a small enclosure with a dozen of them. He raised them for the cooks. You liked to feed them grain, but you were terrified of the biggest ones. You’d always run back if they came too close to you.”

  A thin smile had risen to his lips and in that moment he looked more like Brad—so much so that Vivien’s heart clenched and she had to look away from him.

  “Do you remember?” he murmured.

  She took another bite from her bread and jam, chewing slowly as she thought, finally shaking her head.

  “I don’t. There’s very little I remember.”

  She glanced up; sure enough, his smile had faded away.

  “But you’ve been remembering more since coming back, haven’t you?” he pressed on. “Bradan said—”

  The pang of pain was as swift and unexpected as Aedan saying his brother’s name and immediately cutting himself off.

  “Is he all right?” Vivien couldn’t help asking. “Can you tell… can you tell what he’s doing right now? Or… what he’s feeling?”

  She still didn’t know all that much about the link between them, and certainly not enough to know what came through it.

  “I think… he’s asleep. Dreaming.” He blinked, and his gaze focused on her again. “Maybe he has the right idea.”

  And that, Vivien knew, was as close as he would come to telling her she should go get some rest.

  “Maybe,” she repeated.

  Soon she had finished her bread and Aedan escorted her back to her room. She doubted she’d find it any easier to go to sleep now, but she had to at least try.

  * * * *

  With Dame Vivien being up so late the previous night, Aedan stopped Doril when she brought up a breakfast tray at the usual time early in the morning. He took the tray from her, brought it into the sitting room, and left it there for Dame Vivien to find when she woke.

  Olric came up to take a turn at guard duty. As reluctant as Aedan always was to let anyone take over for him, he needed to get some rest before it was time to go to the palace.

  He did lie down, but falling asleep took some time, and even then it was a broken, fitful sleep full of indistinct dreams in which sometimes Dame Vivien, sometimes Bradan, sometimes both of them were trapped, in danger, or dying, and every time Aedan was just short of being fast enough, strong enough, smart enough to save them.

  He gave up on sleep around lunchtime. The room felt too quiet, too empty, and as Aedan washed up, he caught himself missing the warm water Bradan had provided in the past, despite Aedan’s assurances that it wasn’t necessary. More than the minor comfort, though, he missed his brother and felt a mix of anticipation and nervousness at the thought that he might see him today.

  Bradan was all right, or so said their bond. Aedan had felt a few flashes of pain over the past couple of days, and from his own memories of his first days as a vampire, he suspected that those were minor injuries received while training. He’d also felt confusion and embarrassment, and there, too, Aedan’s memories gave him an idea of what might have happened. Ciara, like many Makers, used physical contact and intimacy as tools to teach control to young vampires. Somehow, Aedan doubted that Bradan would be interested in that path.

  Dressed in a fresh uniform, he went downstairs, and found Olric standing guard by the library door. Olric snapped to attention as Aedan approached, and Aedan did nothing to hide the head-to-toe scrutiny he was bestowing on him.

  “You’ll be accompanying Dame Vivien to the palace this afternoon,” he told Olric severely. “I hope by then you’ll have shined your boots, put on a fresh shirt without stains on the cuffs, and combed your hair.”

  Olric dropped his gaze to the floor and murmured something that might be assent, or maybe an apology. Dismissing him, Aedan knocked on the door. Dame Vivien called for him to enter. She barely looked up from the book she was reading when he walked in, and continued to pace through the room.

  She was wearing the same black pants and shirt she’d worn when she had challenged Rhuinn to the duel. On one hand, it was practical; she needed to be able to move during the fight. On the other, it wasn’t the sort of outfit that screamed ‘rightful queen,’ and she did need those who would witness the first duel to think of her as such. If she won today and won the next duel as well, she could be ruling in a matter of days—but only if the High Families supported her. He’d have to say something about it before it was time to leave and try not to antagonize her in the process.

  “I feel like the morning before an exam,” she said, snapping the book shut. “And I know I’ve studied as much as I can, but I still wish I had another week to prepare.”

  It took him a second or two to figure out what she meant by ‘exam.’ Aedan had never gone through formal schooling the way she had in the Otherworld, but Bradan had told him about it and about exams.

  “There’s only one thing you need to remember at all cost,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “During the first duel you are not permitted to draw blood. You will lose this round if you do.”

  “I know,” she said, still pacing back and forth. “I’ve read all about it. Three times just today.”

  “Reading the rules isn’t the same as witnessing a duel. I thought—”

  She stopped and whirled toward him.

  “Does that mean you have witnessed one?” she asked, her voice a little higher than before, her eyes a little wider.

  “I did, yes. A few years ago, a man challenged Rhuinn. He was conscripted and challenged him to protest—”

  “Never mind why,” she cut in. “What happened? How did the duels go? Rhuinn won, obviously, since he’s still on the throne, but how did he win? What kind of channeling did he perform?”

  Aedan winced, wishing he’d kept his tongue.

 
“Dame Vivien, are you sure you want to hear this? Maybe it would be best to focus on your own duel.”

  “Am I sure?” She sounded exasperated. “I can’t believe you haven’t told me about this sooner. Here I am training to battle Rhuinn, trying to figure out what he’ll do, and you’ve actually seen him fight!”

  “I have,” he said. “And he knows it. He’ll expect me to have told you everything about it, so he’ll have something else planned for you. I don’t want to limit your responses by making you expect anything.”

  Seconds passed, and he could see the irritation drain from Dame Vivien, bit by bit. When she became queen, she’d need to learn to hide her emotions better, but at least she could control herself; that was already a first step.

  “That… kind of makes sense,” she conceded grudgingly. “Still. Isn’t there anything at all you can tell me? At this point any little thing might help.”

  Aedan thought for a moment. He couldn’t give her details, he decided. He couldn’t tell her that Rhuinn had toyed with the man during the first duel before allowing him to win. He’d allowed that much so that he’d be able to maim him in the second duel, and kill him in the third. It had all been a display of what he could do for the rest of the court—a warning not to challenge him.

  Hearing this now might give her second thoughts in the middle of the fight, right when she could least afford to be distracted. Should she get the advantage—and after watching her train, Aedan had no doubt that she could channel strongly enough and with enough imagination to have a more than fair chance—she’d wonder if Rhuinn was letting her win to have an excuse to kill her in the end or whether she was winning on her own merits.

  Still, if he said nothing at all and she lost, she might blame him for keeping information from her that could have given her a better chance.

  “He’s going to toy with you,” he said, speaking slowly and choosing each word with care. “He’ll consider it great sport to humiliate you in front of the court like you did when you called him a murderer in front of them. If you can help it at all, try not to cry. You’d only give him what he wants.”

  Her eyes widened, and she reached back with one hand, seeking the armchair behind her and, once she found it, falling back rather than sitting, as though her knees had given up on her.

  “Oh my god,” she murmured, still staring at him. “You think I’m going to lose.”

  Of all possible reactions, he had not imagined this one. He took a step forward, stopping abruptly even as he shook his head.

  “No! Dame Vivien, no, I don’t, I just—”

  “You told me not to cry,” she interrupted, and although her voice was a whisper, it resonated through the room as though she had shouted. “You think he’s going to beat me. You’ve seen him fight, you’ve watched me train, and you think I don’t have a chance.”

  If earlier she’d seemed nervous, now she looked crestfallen, and Aedan hated that his words had dimmed the gleam in her eyes. He fell down to one knee in front of her and, without thinking, took hold of one of her hands where it gripped the arm of her chair.

  “Vivien, no!” he blurted out. “It’s true that I know him to be a cunning and skilled fighter. But as you said, I watched you train these past few days. You just learned to use the Quickening, but already you are as adept wielding it as channelers who have used it since they were children. I know what you are capable of. I believe you can defeat him, today and in the next duel. I do.”

  He hoped she could see on his face, hear in his voice that every word he had given her was nothing but the truth, because he didn’t know what else he might say to restore her spirit.

  For the longest time, she watched him, and he could smell that bitter tinge of fear that had crept in her scent receding again. She squeezed his hand.

  “Thank you,” she offered with a tiny smile. “It’s good to know I have someone on my side.”

  “Always. I’ve always been on your side, and I always will be. Even when you and I see things differently, you are always my first concern.”

  Her smile remained, though it wavered, and she gently tugged her hand free of his. He’d said too much, he realized; he’d made her uncomfortable.

  “You called me Vivien again,” she said, a fair attempt at sounding teasing. “You’re slipping.”

  Pushing himself back to his feet, Aedan took two steps back and bowed his head.

  “I’m sorry,” he said very formally, and he meant the apology for more than calling her by her given name.

  “I’m sure you are,” she said with a sigh. “But I’m not. I’ve got enough people calling me dame. I don’t mind being just Vivien for you or for…”

  She stopped herself short, but it was easy to guess what she had been about to say.

  “For Bradan,” he finished for her.

  She nodded, looking away.

  “Will he be there?” she murmured.

  “I can’t imagine that anyone would be able to keep him away.”

  She bit her lips and didn’t quite look up at him as she asked, “Do you think I’ll be able to talk to him before the duel?”

  What Aedan wanted to say was no, he didn’t believe she would, but he was afraid to sap her spirit again without meaning to, so he offered a much more circumspect answer.

  “I don’t know, Dame Vivien.”

  “How about after? When the duel is over—”

  “Please…” He hated to be rude and interrupt her, but she was taking a dangerous path while thinking about this. “You have to stay focused. If you let thoughts of Bradan distract you—”

  “But how can I not let it distract me?” she cut in, the fierceness back in her eyes and voice. “I love him. I haven’t seen him in two days. He never said goodbye, and I don’t know what’s happening to him. For all I know, Rhuinn has been torturing him to get information about me.”

  She didn’t mention Anabel, but her shadow drifted across the room anyway. Rhuinn had made it very clear, very fast that he was ready to anything to undermine Dame Vivien. Thankfully, Bradan had a protector in the palace.

  “He hasn’t,” Aedan said. “And he won’t. Ciara wouldn’t let him hurt one of hers.”

  As Dame Vivien’s head snapped up, Aedan realized he had chosen his words poorly and hurried to amend them.

  “I mean, she wouldn’t let him hurt a member of her clan.”

  “But you are a member of her clan,” she exclaimed, “and she was ready to kill you herself!”

  Aedan nodded. “Exactly. I’m sure Rhuinn would be happy to kill me, or to have any of his guards do it for him, but Ciara made it a point to tell me she asked him to let her do it. If anyone kills me, it’ll be her. No one else will touch her clan. And no one but her will touch Bradan.”

  If anything, that precision seemed to trouble her even more. Maybe it was time to change the subject to something safer before she worried herself sick. Time to see how well she took a suggestion about a wardrobe adjustment…

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The King’s Palace

  Without a knock or warning of any kind, the door to Bradan’s room opened, and Ciara walked in, as unconcerned as always to find him half dressed. She claimed that all vampires eventually ceased to care about nudity, whether their own or others’, but he hadn’t yet given up on expressing his displeasure about how casual she was about his privacy.

  “You could have knocked,” he said coolly. “Thirty seconds earlier and you’d have walked in on me naked.”

  As she crossed the room, Ciara trailed a hand over his shoulders. Touching him whenever she pleased was another habit she seemed unwilling to shed, although at least she hadn’t tried to get into bed with him again.

  “Pity,” she said as she sat on the edge of the mattress, one leg balanced on top of her knee. “If I’d known, I would have come in sooner.”

  Turning his back on her, he picked up his shirt from the dresser and slipped it on. The embroidery of the QuickSilver symbol over the breast had been picke
d out by the same maid who took care of his laundry. He’d been furious when he found out, and Ciara had mocked him for it.

  “Did you really intend to parade through the king’s palace wearing the insignia of his declared enemy? Don’t be ridiculous, child. I’m allowing you to wear black because you will be in the presence of your dame, but don’t push your luck.”

  Ridiculous or not, he missed the symbol, the outward sign of what he was, what he’d wanted to be since he was old enough to understand what the QuickSilver Guard was. At least Ciara couldn’t remove the silver tattoo on the back of his hand and wrist—though she had ordered him to wear a glove to cover it whenever he was out of his room.

  He glanced down at his hand as he buttoned his shirt, smiling to himself at the metallic glint.

  “Are you ready to see her?” Ciara asked.

  He turned around to face her and kept his face as neutral as he could.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, pitching the question toward aloof.

  She considered him for a moment, her eyes cold and unyielding. He hadn’t fooled her for a second, but then, he hadn’t expected to.

  “Let me rephrase that,” she said. “Are you ready to see her without losing your mind to hunger?”

  Not until she said the word ‘hunger’ did he realize that he was hungry again despite having fed a few hours ago. He wasn’t sure how she could tell, seeing how she didn’t have the bond he shared with Aedan, nor the awareness she had explained existed between a Maker and his or her Bloodchild, similar to a twin bond. Still, regardless of how she knew, she always seemed to guess whenever he was hungry—and always made him realize it.

  “Can we go by the feeding kitchens?” he asked, although he already knew the answer to that. At this hour, that kitchen would be deserted, as most vampires either fed very early or very late during the day.

  “I’m afraid not,” Ciara said without a hint of a smile, nor any indication that she was ready to help in any way.

  Bradan had to ask. The answer would always be yes, she’d all but promised, but he still needed to ask first.