Bloodchild (19 page)

“And now you do?”

Vivien swallowed hard and tried to
smile.

“And now I do.”

Never had Aedan looked as much
like his brother as when he smiled back at her.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Before The Duel

Vivien couldn’t sleep. Too many
thoughts were swirling through her mind, the least of which being that, in a
few hours, she’d duel Rhuinn. The outcome of the first duel would determine how
the rest of the duels might evolve, including whether or not one of them would
need to kill the other to win. And yet, as she paced through her room, Vivien
realized that it wasn’t so much the duel that had her so jittery, but the
prospect of seeing Brad at the palace and what he might or might not do then.

If she had the chance, she
intended to ask him to come home—just ask, not demand, not even if making it an
order would ensure he would come back. But what if she didn’t get the chance to
talk to him, or even see him at all? What if she asked, and he declined?

And what about Aedan?

No. She stopped her pacing
abruptly, like she stopped that train of thought. She wasn’t going to think
about Aedan. There was nothing to think about. He was her guard, and maybe her
friend, or at least on his way to being her friend, and his feelings for her
didn’t mean she had to do anything. She’d never done anything to encourage him,
and he knew how much she cared about his brother, so he couldn’t expect to have
a chance with her. She didn’t need to make that clear; it was already obvious.
So, nothing to think about on that front.

But not thinking about it, or
about the rest, didn’t make it any easier to find sleep. She’d gone for a run
earlier, doubling her usual number of laps around the castle to tire herself
out. She’d read for a while the most boring etiquette book she’d found in her mother’s
library. She’d lain down, closed her eyes, and tried to clear her mind while
listening to the ‘nighttime’ playlist on her MP3 player. None of it had made
any difference, and here she was, still pacing in circles in her bedroom.

Tired of the lack of space, she
walked out through the small office into the sitting room, thinking she might
light up a fire there and read for a while. Being in here, however, reminded
her both of Brad lying down in a growing pool of his own blood and Brad kissing
her within an inch of her life, and neither memories helped in any way.

When she peeked out into the
corridor, she was sure she’d find Aedan there, as he always seemed to be. Maybe
she even hoped he would be the one guarding her. She missed Brad, and seeing
his face reflected in his brother’s, while bittersweet, always comforted her.

Aedan wasn’t there, however, and
instead she discovered Savel standing against the wall opposite her door. Her
first reaction was guilt that the oldest of her guards would be made to stand
all night like this, and she came close to voicing her displeasure. She caught
herself just in time. Savel had been keen on proving that his age did not
change the depth of his commitment, and she had a feeling he might have been
the one who had requested this particular duty. She might offend him if she
hinted he was too old.

He pushed away from the wall and
gave her a stiff bow as soon as he saw her.

“Blessings, Dame Vivien. Do you
require anything?”

“Nothing, no, thank you. I
thought…” She scrambled for a reason she might have had to peek out. Saying
she’d hoped to see another of her guards standing there might not have been the
best of explanations… “I’m a bit hungry so I thought I’d go get myself a
snack.”

He bowed again; and to think she’d
found it annoying when Aedan was the only one doing it…

“Please, Dame Vivien. Allow me to
get the cook and she will bring you what you require.”

She had to grimace at that.
Bothering Doril in the middle of the night was the last thing she wanted.

“It’s not necessary,” she said,
firmly enough that he’d know she meant it. “I feel like getting out of my room
for a while.”

She didn’t bother telling him she
didn’t need an escort to go down to the kitchen, and instead tried not to be
annoyed as he walked ahead of her, as though to protect her from the shadows
that might jump at her. He had her best interests at heart, she reminded
herself. And she had accepted as much when she’d branded him with the
QuickSilver symbol.

Down on the first floor, he
entered the kitchen ahead of her and channeled to light every candle and oil
lamp in the room, only then saying, “The room is safe, my lady.”

She was already three steps inside
the kitchen when he said so, and she realized then that he might have been
expecting her to remain outside until he called her in. But seriously, what
kind of danger did he expect to lurk in here? Feeling awkward, she nodded at
him.

“Safe, right. Thank you.”

He retreated to stand against the
wall next to the door, and while she had grown used to Aedan, it felt
incredibly odd to have someone else there. Fighting not to scratch the itch
between her shoulder blades, she went to the cupboard and brought the bread and
jam to the table, just like she’d watched Brad do, what felt like a lifetime
ago.

“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.