by Elise Whyles
“She is but a child, she deserves—”
“It must be this way.” Khrund’s feathers flared, his eyes flashing. “For victory to be within grasp we must follow the dictates. No harm will befall her. Una is under my protection and under the watchful gaze of my family. Amuliana will not dare to harm her.”
“Milady? Bede?” Ashalia’s voice drifted through the door. “Forgive my intrusion, but you and Lord Gawain have been summoned to stand before the king and his queens.”
“Go.” Khrund’s form shifted, grains of sand falling from him to pool at his feet. “I shall keep Una safe.”
A lone tear tracked down Bede’s face as she stared at his vanishing form. A moment later, she pressed against Gawain, sobs shaking her frame. “My poor Una.”
“Shh, my love,” Gawain soothed. “I will find her, no matter how long it takes, nor what the cost. I swear it to you.”
Bede nodded. His word would not be broken. Honor would dictate it could not, but what would the cost be to them for his search? Pain lanced through her. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing him.
Tensing at the tender voice whispering at the back of her mind, she clung to her lover. “Be happy, Bede. Embrace your future and fear not for me. I will find you when it is time.” Her uncertainty and fear melted away with the realization that Una was safe—Khrund would protect her.
“Milady?”
“We come now,” Gawain barked out. “Come, my love, dry your eyes. We will meet this challenge before I renew my search.”
“Nay,” Bede gasped, her eyes widening. “Nay, we cannot, ’tis not right.”
“We must stand before—”
“Nay, I mean we cannot continue to seek her so desperately. Una is safe, she is whole. When the time comes, she will return to me.” Reaching up, she cupped his jaw. “She knew, I see that now. Always she saw so deeply within me, easing my fears. Even the night she was taken she soothed me. The gods have decided. I will seek her, but it must not consume us.”
“If I had not failed you before...”
Bede shook her head. “You did not fail me. Now come, we must stand before your king and we shall stand together. United.”
Ignoring the ache in her heart, Bede wiped at her tears and smoothed the front of Gawain’s tunic. Pasting a smile on her face, she took his hand and reached for the door handle.
She squeaked a protest when he jerked her into his body. He pressed a hard kiss to her lips. “Together, it will be,” he promised and reached over to open the door. With a squeeze of her hand, he led the way into the gathering light of the throne room.
Chapter 17
Hema stared at the pair before him. Rumpled, stained, they clung to each other. Gawain’s fierce glower was an all too familiar expression, one Hema knew would not be soothed with words. His sword dangled from his belt, the bloody blade within reach should it be needed.
Beside him, her shift stained and torn, Bede glared. Her fingers flexing on the hilt of her dagger, a most impressive weapon. Indeed, it appeared the girl herself was a weapon. One meant to be wielded against Saltar…
A sharp jab in the ribs drew his attention to his queen. She stared pointedly at him, the raised eyebrow a clear warning. Throwing her a glower, Hema shifted on his throne and cleared his throat.
“It appears we, the entire nation, owe you a debt of gratitude. Had you not brought your female to us, Gawain, victory may have been forfeit us.”
“Hema.” Bruja’s low voice left little room for doubt she’d honor her threat.
With a sigh, he nodded slightly. He knew she didn’t trust him, but he would honor his word to his wives. Facing Gawain and Bede, he leaned forward.
“I did not bring Bede here to aid your war.” Gawain’s voice oozed disgust. “I brought her here to be safe from a threat in her world.”
“Tell me, did you think, we as a vampire nation would allow a mortal to wander about our cities unimpeded?” Dorstan ground out. “You dared to return with the bitch when you should have killed her and tracked down the whelp.”
“Una is hardly a whelp.” Bede whirled to face the threat. Hema swallowed his horrified gasp as her tunic slipped, revealing the spread wings of a bird rising from a pool. He shook himself as her voice rose in strength and fury. “She is my sister and worthy of protection. A loyalty beyond your grasp it appears. Lizard drinker!”
“Enough!” Hema commanded, rising to his feet. “Dorstan, she is of no concern to you. Keep to your mistresses and let those of us with more sense than to challenge our most impressive ally defend this court. Gawain, I would ask your female if she can speak of it…”
“Speak of what?” Her eyes narrowed, back straightening.
“Her name is Bede.” Gawain flashed his teeth, his eyes darkening with emotion. “And if you wish to speak to her, she’s right there. Ask your question.”
“Do not defy me in such a blatant manner. I am still king.”
“Bede, perhaps you would be kind enough to explain how you came to be here,” Bruja interrupted.
“I came with Gawain.” Bede shrugged indifferently. “Marshante warned of a danger so we fled her home. That warning was only reinforced when we intercepted a warrior. It is here I am meant to be.”
“Falsehoods!” Dorstan shouted. “You’re here as his whore and nothing—”
Gawain moved in a blur, his hand coming up to grab the other man’s throat. His human form altered, fangs dripping, claws sharpened, body vibrating with the force of his fury.
“Mind your tongue, lacerta drinkg. Else I’d be tempted to slice it from your head.”
Hema growled, his temper fraying. He stomped down the steps from his diaz and paused at the slow gurgling of Dorstan’s breath as Gawain’s fist tightened around his throat.
“Gawain, you will explain why you would dare to bring a mortal into our realm.” Hema strode forward. “Leave him and answer me.”
“Because it was the only option.”
“She is no more than food.” Hema shifted, unease fluttering at the disgust and fury in Gawain’s eyes. “We do not bed our—”
“She is mine!” Gawain’s furious roar filled the hall. “You dare to speak of such a thing to me. Dare to insinuate I would not know my own soul. Of anyone in this room, King, you alone know what it means to lose your mated one.”
Gawain’s barb sank deep, ripping at a wound that still festered. Fury rose with his grief, lashing at him. Stepping back, he glanced at the woman Gawain had returned with and inhaled. His beloved Muandy had died for the lust of another. Centuries later he still felt the ache, the emptiness of her departure. It was not a feeling he’d wish on anyone.
“Mated does not mean loved.” Hema met his eyes, awareness and acceptance within his heart. Some who were fated found their hearts tied to others a sad state of affairs leading too often to isolation and destruction. Their kind was mated for a reason—and only those truly unlucky found mates belonging to another.
“She was loved long before she was mated,” Gawain retorted.
Hema nodded, his steps sure as he approached Bede. Stopping before her, he let himself smile as she met his stare head on. There didn’t appear to be any fear within the young woman. “Tell me, Bede, do you truly understand what we are?”
“Hema, do not question—”
“Be silent, Bruja. She must know the truth or she’ll not survive.”
“Are you asking if I know you are vampires? Drinkers of blood? Demons who haunt the dreams of mortals?” Bede shook her head. “Beneath the pale flesh beats a heart pumping blood through each vein. I smell the heady scent, milord, and if I were truly ravenous, let me assure you, I would drink without guilt. Even of one so important. Indeed, your majesty, I am aware of what and who I am. I am Gawain’s in body, heart, and soul.”
Hema nodded, hiding his inner glee. She knew, and had unwittingly given him a means to save face as well as keep the doors to his wives’ chambers open to him. Of course he couldn’t be so abrupt in hi
s judgment, his people would question and connive for many years if he did too sudden an about-face.
Turning, he strode back to his throne to settle. “Call forth Veronique du Coudray, there will be a wedding this eve.”
“Milord, I must…”
Hema met Dorstan’s furious gaze. “As my captain it is your duty to escort Gawain to his marital bed. I trust you find no displeasure in this task?”
“Majesty, I beg off the task.” Dorstan bowed. “Selordan will assist him in the putting to bed. It is beneath me to assist in the weakening of our bloodlines by allowing mortals to walk among us.”
Murmurs of shock rose around the chamber as the captain stormed from the room, his fury making him stiff. Looking at his wife, Hema raised a brow. He would have to deal with this.
“Leave him.” Bruja rose, her gown shimmering in the flickering torch light. “My sisters and I will escort Bede to the temple. Ashalia, see the chamber is prepared. Selordan, you’ll assist Gawain to the temple.”
“As you wish, milady.” Selordan took Gawain’s arm, tugging him from the room.
Hema watched Bede appraise the room, her chin lifting slightly before she followed Bruja and his other wives from the room. Slinking down in his throne, he smothered a groan. A wedding after a battle was a most awkward method, but he could find no discontent within it. Rather, the rushing would sooth those who dared to question him and his acceptance. What better way to secure the greatest weapon they had but to bring her into the folds of his nation.
* * * *
Bede shifted, her gaze on the multitude of women surrounding her. All wore long, flowing scarlet and black gowns, and jewels she’d never seen. Kindness spilled from them like water.
“Come, let us get you clean.” Bruja slipped the stained shift from her shoulders and eased her toward the steaming tub in the center of the room. “We are honored to welcome one of your line back into our folds.” She poured a sweet smelling liquid into the water and waved two delicate looking girls forward. “It has been too long our lord has suffered, too long he has punished the innocent.”
“You are all wives of Hema?”
“Indeed.” Bruja picked up a silver chalice. “We are all wives, sisters. He has taken many wives to hide the loss of one.”
“Tell me of this war. Gawain has not spoken much of it, but I believe it to be rather daunting a task. He wears a mask of guilt, of failure.”
“He blames himself for something which was not his doing.” Bruja settled into a tall backed chair. “Four hundred years ago, on a night such as this, we were rejoicing. The red moon is a period for all vampires to celebrate. A rebirth of our kind, if you will. That night was no different, our warriors were victorious on the battlefield, and our queen was entering a fertile cycle. Then Saltar came. With his seeming service to Hema the guards did not feel they needed to watch over him. How wrong they were. Gawain broke the door down to reveal Saltar standing with our queen’s neck beneath his lips, blood everywhere. He had ripped her throat out—drank of one of our own.”
“How did my kind become?”
“Hema punished all who served Saltar, or even those who he had enslaved. It mattered not, Hema cursed them all. Cast them out into the mortal world, forgotten by our kind. Took away the gifts Selene granted us and discarded them all in his grief.”
“Saltar is rising.” Bede drew a lazy circle in the water. “He craves revenge.”
“Yes, but his bonds are not controlled by one key. Naw, there are six of them. Six keys for the six species he condemned—vampire, dragon, merfolk, demon, troll, and ankoù. He has inflicted much pain and little reward. Death would be too welcome for him. In his own small way, Gawain blames himself for Saltar’s treachery.”
The truth behind the words settled like a heavy weight around Bede’s neck. Huffing a breath, Bede bit her lip. What if this wasn’t real? What if all of this was just another dream? Something to keep her warm at night? Pulling her knees to her chest, she stared down into the water. What if in her Gawain had found someone who could help him forget his shortcomings, his failures?
“Did you know the warriors of Gawain’s line take an oath?” Bruja raised her glass. “They swear on their honor not to indulge in the temptation of the flesh. Gawain, unlike many of his brethren, has never shown any interest in the immoral relations so many of our young men take part in.”
“Perhaps he just—”
“Hadn’t found you yet.” Bruja glanced at her sisters, a smile on her face. “You were loved before you were claimed, Bede. ’Tis the way of the House of Serpents. Now, enough of this melancholy. Let us discuss your wedding. Would you prefer gold?”
“Um, whatever you say, majesty,” Bede acquiesced. “I’m not particular in my attire.”
Bruja laughed kindly. “’Tis not a mortal wedding you’re attending, my dear girl. You will be painted with the gold after you’re bathed. Vanex, see we have the sugars ready.”
“Sugars?”
“Indeed, I am well versed with the culture you lived in. The sugars are to help keep you clean. ’Tis a fact, all young Roman women prefer to be without the hair. Until they are wed, of course.”
Bede flushed. She’d heard the tales of Roman women’s extraordinary methods of grooming. Her fingers patted her hair, the very idea of pulling it out was beyond comprehension. A faint noise drew her attention to the tall, thin Vanex who laid out several long robes, a small container of bubbling liquid sat beside it, wrapped in simple strips of fabric.
“Come, milady.”
Rising from the warmth of the bath, Bede smiled her appreciation at the young girl who held her wrap. Tugging the woolen material up around her shoulders, Bede followed the gentle nudge of Vanex at her back.
“’Tis okay, lay down. We’ll be as quick as can be,” Vanex soothed.
“Why do I take no comfort from your words?” Stretching out on the bed, Bede glanced at Bruja who smiled indulgently before slipping from the room. Sucking in a quick breath, Bede’s eyes flew to Vanex at the hot swipe of something along her flank.
“Take a deep breath, milady, and we’ll be done in a few moments.”
Vanex’s words did little to soothe her unease. Rather, she wondered if the other woman really hated her. Jumping at Vanex’s careful touch, Bede clenched her fingers into the robes and inhaled. “Are you quite certain this is necessary?” Bede grabbed her wrist.
“Of course.” Vanex smiled. “We do keep abreast of mortal customs. Your people have been doing this for a number of years. It’s considered fashionable?”
“Fashionable?” Bede sucked in a quick, pained breath as the strip of fabric was ripped off her flesh. “How can it be fashionable to torture yourself? You ripped the hair out. Goodness, I am sure I’ll bleed to death before you’re finished.”
“There’s no blood. It’ll grow back.” Vanex frowned. “Until you grow into your immortal being, then it won’t. Really, I am quite good at it. I used to serve a very wealthy Roman woman who thought nothing of having this done on a weekly basis.”
“Yeah, well, no one ever said their women were smart,” Bede ground out as Vanex finished sugaring the other flank. “And Gawain never complained before.”
“Men, they never do.” Vanex smoothed rose scented oil down her hip, rubbing it into the sensitive flesh of her thighs, dipping between her legs. “Besides, Gawain wouldn’t complain, not after eight hundred years of abstinence.”
Bruja slipped back into the room, a chalice in her hand. “Abstinence? Selene, one would have had to have sex before they can truly abstain. He joined the order at the delicate age before his right of passage. For all his faults, his blusters, he was no wandering vampire.” Bruja giggled softly. “I think it incredibly romantic, you and he are your only lovers. I don’t see either of you breaking the vows and taking a lover. Unless you’re both into it.”
“Bruja! Be still your tongue. She’s all but a virgin, freshly plucked.” Vanex swatted at her before dipping a wide brush into the
carved bowl near Bede’s head. “Though I wonder if Selordan will ensure he’s truly prepared. The boy hasn’t had but one lover.”
“Vanex! Please, keep on track. It matters not if Gawain’s prepared. He is past his immortal birth, the tattoos will be mark enough. Now, make haste, the bells toll.”
Bede tilted her head, the faint sound of bells growing louder. “What is it? Are we…”
“No, the priestess has arrived,” Vanex explained. “Come now, we must get you dressed.”
“Dressed?” Bede winced at the thought.
“Indeed.” Bruja waved aside one of the younger girls and wrapped a narrow gold and black rope around her hips, knotting it so the end dangled down between her legs. As Vanex trailed the brush across her throat, down her arms, she watched Bruja gather gold threads and braid them together into a narrow, delicate looking rope. More than a little uneasy at the thought of having the queen helping her, she flinched at the cool touch along her throat.
“Relax, child.” Bruja’s soft voice was filled with humor. “Contrary to the devilish stories you’ve heard, my desire to aid you has nothing to do with the blood flowing through your veins and everything to do with a debt which has remained unpaid for centuries.”
“A debt?”
Her eyes sad, Bruja nodded. “Perhaps I will tell you of it another time. Now, it is time for you to be wed. If you do so choose. You do not have to accept Gawain as your—”
“But he is.” Bede squeezed her hand. “He is my other half, my soul mate. Perhaps I knew it all along. I realized it when I saw him fighting for me. He was the monster in my dreams. The one come to save me from the life I had.”
The other women in the room nodded. Fate was kinder to some than others.
* * * *
Veronique du Coudray, high priestess of the Rouge Arianrhod, stepped through the ornate doors into King Hema of the Bloodseekers throne room. Ignoring those assembled, she drifted along the marble floor to stand before the king. He’d aged in the years since Muandy’s death, the vitality she’d long associated with him ebbing with each passing year. Still, he was king, and until his wives produced a clear heir, he would rule.