Bodyguards

by Kallysten

  “Is there anything else?” Bradan asked at last, still very quiet, but his eyes suddenly a little sharper.

  “Like what?”

  “Like why you were so mad at her last night?”

  Before Aedan could suppress it, anger flashed through him. Bradan would feel that, undoubtedly.

  “She doesn’t know anything,” he said, trying to control his emotions. “Not who she is, not what she was born to do. She tried to escape from us and could have run straight into the king’s hands.” He gritted his teeth. “And...”

  He didn’t finish. He couldn’t finish. At the time, it had seemed like anger was a perfectly appropriate response, but now he realized he might have overreacted.

  “And?” Bradan prompted, an eyebrow raised questioningly.

  “And she asked why I wasn’t using the Quickening.”

  Bradan’s lips twisted into an unhappy smile. “You said it yourself. She doesn’t know. Why don’t you tell her?”

  Scoffing, Aedan slipped out of bed and strode to the washing room on the side of the room, leaving the door open behind him. He pumped water into the washing basin and threw over his shoulder, “I don’t need her pity.”

  A shiver ran down his spine, a sure enough sign that Bradan was channeling; when Aedan dipped his hands in the water, he wasn’t surprised to find that Bradan had warmed it.

  “I don’t need yours, either,” he muttered before splashing water over his face.

  The second shiver wasn’t warning enough for the sharp smack on his ass. He whirled around, glowering as he strode back into the bedroom.

  “Are you done feeling sorry for yourself?” Bradan asked, standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. “Or do you want me to kick some sense back into you?”

  Baring his teeth, Aedan growled. What was the expression from the Otherworld Bradan had taught to him?

  Oh, yes.

  “Bring it on.”

  Bradan grinned.

  * * * *

  Vivien woke to the sound of clashing metal. Images of the woods flashed through her mind, of the men Aedan had killed—the men who would have taken her like they had taken Anabel. Her heart jumped in her throat. Could those men be here now? Brad had said she was safe, he had talked of shields protecting the house, but what if—

  A laugh—two laughs, barely distinguishable as they echoed with the same joy—tempered her growing worry. She slipped out of bed and approached the window. When she drew the curtains open, she had to blink several times to adjust to the brightness of the sky beyond the glass. The window opened inward, and she had to lean against the sill and look down to find the source of the laughter.

  Down below, a small, enclosed courtyard was bathed in shadows. By the end of the day, it would probably be in full sunlight, but at the moment it was protected from the sun by the castle. In the middle of the courtyard, Brad and Aedan were circling each other.

  Brad held a sword, clutching the hilt with both hands, while Aedan was fighting with his knives like he had in the woods—which was how she knew who was who. Without those knives, she doubted she would have been able to tell them apart. They both wore dark pants and were both shirtless. Even from where she stood above them, Vivien could see the play of muscles in their arms and back. When she shivered, it had nothing to do with the temperature, already warm even although it was still early.

  She let out a quiet gasp when Aedan lunged forward, both knives slashing toward Brad. With a wide sweep of his sword, Brad stopped both knives before they could get to him. The sound of metal on metal was like bells; so was Brad’s laughter.

  It suddenly struck Vivien that, for all the months she had known Brad, she couldn’t remember ever hearing him laugh. She’d seen him smile, she’d heard him chuckle, but he had never sounded like this, carefree and simply...happy.

  He said something to Aedan; Vivien was too far to hear the words, but she heard Aedan’s reply: a quick bark of laughter. Brad attacked next, taking two steps forward and swinging his sword with his left hand; the right was gesturing at his side. For a second, not even that long, he seemed to glow, bright colors emanating from him and extending from his hand. Vivien blinked, and the colors disappeared, leaving behind a second sword in Brad’s right hand.

  She thought at first that it was nothing more than an illusion, like the mist he had conjured in the house to show Vivien what had happened to Anabel. But when he slashed with his right hand, the sword met Aedan’s crossed knives with a loud clang. Not an illusion, then.

  She rested her arms on the sill, leaned her chin on top of them, and looked down as they continued to fight, now both of them with a blade in each hand. Part of her couldn’t help but be afraid: two swords, two knives, and no armor that she could see; it was an accident waiting to happen. At the same time, though, she wished she could have joined their game. It had been a long time since she had held a blade, and, as different as Brad’s broadsword was to the fencing gear Vivien knew, to see them wield their weapons with such grace made her long to do the same.

  And, after all, why not?

  Stepping away from the window, she went to the attached bathroom she had discovered the previous night and washed up quickly before getting dressed in comfortable jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers.

  After reaching the first floor, she tried to orient herself in the long corridors. The courtyard was under her window, and her room was halfway down on the left, so if she tried to find the room directly underneath it... As she came closer, the sound of metal clanking together became louder and louder, until, when she peeked through an open door, she could see through an armory-like room and straight through wide doors opening onto the courtyard.

  She crossed the armory, throwing only a cursory glance to the weapons and armor on the walls, and came to stand on the threshold, half hidden behind the heavy wooden door. From her window, she had been able to appreciate the speed with which Brad and Aedan fought as well as their dexterity. Now that she was on their level, she could also see the strength they put into each move.

  It looked more like an actual fight than a game, and if not for their smiles as they circled and launched themselves at each other, Vivien would have worried even more about their safety. They did offer her a very interesting display, however, and she couldn’t tear her eyes off them.

  Their muscles rippled with each attack, counter, or sidestep. Similar rectangular pendants hung from chains around their necks and bounced against their chests with their movements. Now that she was closer, she could see that Aedan was a little paler than Brad; he was almost like a living statue, marble defying all laws of nature to slide into elegant motions. Across from him, Brad’s chest and back were covered in a light sheen of perspiration that seemed to accentuate every hard muscle in his torso. Vivien swallowed hard. She’d had glimpses of Brad’s body before when they ran and his t-shirt clung to him with sweat, but the sight of him was even more entrancing than she had expected.

  Reminding herself forcefully that he wasn’t interested in her, she tore her eyes from the fight and went in to find a sword. From up close, they were even more different from what she knew than she had first believed. A couple dozen blades rested on holders on the wall, each a little different from the others. She looked for a narrow sword, finally finding one with a large enough hand guard, though she grimaced at the unfamiliar grip.

  It was the closest thing on the wall to a modern épée, but the weight of it when she lifted it off the holder surprised her a little. She slashed the sword in front of her; it was heavier than what she was used to, but not outrageously so. She was actually more concerned about how sharp it was. She didn’t need to touch the edge of the blade to see it was razor-sharp, the length as dangerous as the point.

  She had to set the sword down again to put on some armor. It took her a while to figure out how to arrange and secure the metal plates. As she tightened the leather straps, she suddenly missed her old fencing jacket. The thick cloth had been more comfortable than this
metal contraption—although it would have been of no use against a broadsword such as the one she wanted to try wielding. The plates felt odd against her chest and back, but at least they were less heavy than she had expected.

  With her sword in one hand and a helmet under the other arm, she returned to the door and stepped out. She was about to ask if she could join in when Aedan suddenly stilled in the middle of an attack, his head whipping toward Vivien. How had he even noticed her when she’d been behind him?

  He sheathed his knives at once and took that now familiar little bow. Across from him, Brad lowered his real sword, while the one he had conjured from magic simply vanished when he opened his hand.

  “Good morning,” Brad said, while Aedan intoned on a more formal tone, “Blessings, Dame Vivien.”

  Vivien felt a jolt at hearing him greet her with the word she had so often heard from Anabel’s lips, and she could only stare at him. She had always thought Anabel was a little eccentric in her choice of words; maybe not, after all. Vivien hoped she was okay...

  Aedan approached her, gripped the hilt of her sword above her hand, and tugged lightly. “These weapons are not toys, Dame Vivien. You do not want to hurt yourself.”

  She resisted his tugging, and rather than letting him have the sword, she pulled away from him.

  “I can tell the difference between a weapon and a toy,” she said, throwing Aedan an annoyed look. “And I’m not the one practicing without armor.”

  Turning toward Brad, she offered him a tentative smile. “It’s been a long time and it looks nothing like fencing, but maybe you could show me? If we’re going to fight to get Anabel back, I should probably learn to use one of these.”

  And with any luck, some of her fencing skills would transfer and she wouldn’t make a complete fool out of herself. She wouldn’t mind it too much in front of Brad, but Aedan would probably never let her hear the end of it.

  For a second or two, she was sure Brad would say yes. He shifted his hold on the sword and nodded ever so slightly. His eyes flicked behind her to his brother, however, and his expression changed at once, becoming contrite.

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible,” he said slowly. “And I have to go down to the village anyway and get some food.”

  “All right. I’ll come with you. See what this place is like.”

  “That is not possible either,” Aedan said behind her. “We can’t let anyone know you’re here.”

  Annoyed, Vivien turned on her heel and stabbed the ground beside her feet. Aedan was still standing by the door, his expression unreadable. She strode past him and back inside.

  She had come to this place to help free Anabel, but it wouldn’t take much more for her to start feeling like a prisoner herself.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Histories

  Before Brad left, he made Vivien promise not to go out on her own.

  “We’ll go outside together later if you want,” he told her. “I’ll show you the lake or we’ll go running. But I don’t want you to go alone and wander beyond the shields by accident.”

  She agreed because he insisted, but after he had left, she looked out through the kitchen window and had to roll her eyes. Last night she had seen nothing but darkness outside; now all she could see were those ‘shields’ a small distance away, maybe a hundred yards, like a blurry curtain. How could Vivien have walked beyond them by accident?

  Shaking her head, she turned away from the window, and tried not to frown at Aedan, who was standing against the wall.

  Now dressed in a black shirt and pants like the previous day, he had watched her finish her breakfast, answering only with a cool “I do not know what that is, Dame Vivien” when she had inquired about coffee. The same question to Brad moments later had produced no more than an apology. Apparently this place did not know coffee, or caffeine. One more reason for Vivien to go back home as soon as possible.

  “Shouldn’t you be doing something?” she snapped at Aedan when he followed her out of the kitchen, two steps behind her and not a sound to mark his passage.

  He gave her a puzzled look. “I am doing something. I am guarding you, Dame Vivien.”

  She let out a grunt of annoyance. “Stop calling me that. And stop following me around. We came back here to free Anabel, so why don’t you do something about her?”

  “Bradan went to find information as well as food,” he said in an even voice. “It is my duty to follow you and keep you safe. And it would not be proper for me to call you anything other than Dame Vivien.”

  “Proper?” Her voice rose, and her eyes widened. What was it with these two and being ‘proper’? She straightened her back to stand at her full height and glared at Aedan. “And was it proper for you to kill people in the middle of the woods with no warning, without giving them a chance to bow out of the fight? Was it proper for you to practically kidnap me and take me to this place? Is it proper for you to stalk me when Brad said no one but us can even enter this house?”

  His nostrils flared, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. By a trick of the light, his pale eyes seemed to gleam like metal catching sunlight. Some instinct deep inside Vivien clamored for her to pull back and retreat, but she refused to back down. Brad had intervened last night, but she didn’t need help to put Aedan in his place. Let him dare to raise his voice against her, and she’d show him a thing or two about being proper.

  Except... Aedan didn’t raise his voice. He even took half a step back, standing there with his feet slightly apart and his hands behind his back. He looked at something behind her shoulder as he answered her questions in a completely toneless voice.

  “They would not have bowed out. They had sworn their lives to Rhuinn, like I have sworn mine to you. The alternative to bringing you here was letting Rhuinn have you, and I trust you would not have found his hospitality very pleasant. And as no shield is entirely safe, it is my duty to guard you even here.”

  “Duty!” She all but spat the word. “You keep saying that, but I didn’t ask anything from you. I don’t need your help. I don’t want your help.”

  She turned on her heel before he could answer and stalked down the hallway. Without thinking, she went to the only other room she knew on this floor: the library. She started to shut the door behind her, but Aedan’s hand closed around the edge and blocked it.

  “Let go!” she demanded, imperious.

  Aedan’s fingers flexed on the wood as though hesitant, but he didn’t release the door. “The last time you hid behind a closed door, you ran out on me through a window. I will not let that happen again.”

  Gritting her teeth, Vivien pushed the door, but it didn’t budge.

  “I already promised Brad I wouldn’t go outside,” she said, biting out each word. “What do you want me to do? Promise again?”

  She had not expected him to incline his head or say, “If you promise me not to leave this room through a window, I will let you close the door.”

  It felt a lot like blackmail, and she’d still be technically under his watch, but at least she wouldn’t have to see him.

  “Deal. I promise.”

  He inclined his head again and finally let go of the door. Vivien pushed it shut, and the latch gave a satisfyingly loud clank when it closed. She wished she could have locked it, too.

  The fire had long since died, as had the candles. Vivien went to the windows on either side of the fireplace and pulled the drapes to the side, even opening the windows so that sunlight and fresh air poured in. In the full light of day, the room seemed different; larger, maybe, or more welcoming. The portrait over the fireplace, on the other hand, was still the same.

  Vivien’s mother looked down upon the room with a cool gaze, the lightest of smiles touching her mouth. She had elegant features, with high cheekbones and sensuous lips. Dark hair cascaded freely over her shoulders except for one thin braid woven across her forehead like a tiara. She wore a dark-blue, floor-length dress, fitted to accentuate her figure, with full sleeves that widened at
the wrists; her attire wouldn’t have been out of place in some medieval castle, Vivien thought. The dress was cut modestly to show a little cleavage, and over the blue of the dress, the metallic tones of the spiral pendant seemed even more striking. Vivien wondered what Brad had done with the pendant. Had he left it back in her house, or had he taken it to this place?

  She watched the portrait for a long moment, observing every detail and trying to jog her memory. Eleoren’s eyes were brown, like her own. Her fingers, linked in front of her, were long and elegant; many times as she was growing up Vivien had been told she had pianist’s fingers and should learn to play. On Eleoren’s right thumb, a ring was painted carefully, the designs engraved around it rendered in painstaking detail.

  Vivien looked down at her own hand, absently turning the plain ring on her thumb with her fingers. She had started wearing a ring on that finger some time in middle school and had never stopped. Her friends had found it odd that she was wearing a ring on her thumb, and Anabel had asked what had given her the idea. All Vivien had been able to say was that she thought it looked nice. Had it been a memory of her mother slipping through?

  As much as she wished she could remember more, looking at that portrait didn’t help. Instead, it replaced those fugitive images from her dream—in which Eleoren had breathed, moved, and talked—with this beautiful but still and silent image.

  She turned away and looked around the room again. The library, Brad had called it, and it was easy to see why. The wall around the door and the back wall on the left were covered in books, the built-in shelves so full that she’d have been hard pressed to find room for even a handful more books.

  She approached the wall and ran her fingers along the spines of a few volumes. The covers felt smooth under her fingers, the heavy leathers dyed in different colors, some faded with age. Her eyes trailed over the titles, and several seconds passed before she realized something.

  She understood the titles; she could read them as clearly as any of her textbooks back home—and a lot of books, at least on this shelf, seemed to be history textbooks with names such as ‘Treatise on the Quickening Wars’ or ‘A Genealogy of the High Families.’ But if Vivien focused on the letters rather than the words, if she tried to see the text rather than the meaning behind it, she could see quite clearly that the words were not in English. They used the same alphabet as far as she could see except for a few accents and symbols, but she would have had no idea on how to pronounce the words. And yet, she could understand everything.