Bodyguards

by Kallysten

  Bradan’s head snapped up, and his gaze returned to Aedan. For a few seconds, they were both silent, gauging each other. It wasn’t often that they disagreed.

  “Go ahead and say it,” Bradan finally said after a few seconds. “Tell me you disapprove.”

  They had enough to worry about that Aedan wouldn’t have raised the topic until later, but if that was what Bradan wanted...

  “You are grown,” he said. “It’s not up to me to approve or disapprove of whom you take into your bed. But our dame, brother?”

  Bradan’s gaze never wavered. “I didn’t just take her to my bed. I love her.”

  For the blink of an eye, Aedan was brought back to that evening, three years or so earlier, almost four. Bradan had been very quiet on his weekly visit—weekly for him, monthly for Aedan—and after Aedan had asked and asked, he’d finally admitted what was troubling him.

  He was in love.

  A simple enough thing—if love ever was simple—except for the simple fact that neither of them had time for love. Vivien was and had to remain their priority. Aedan hadn’t bothered to say so then; love could not be reasoned with. He still didn’t know what to say now that he knew who had captured his brother’s heart.

  “And we didn’t,” Bradan added after a few more seconds, and now there was a hitch to his voice as he looked away. “Nor will we.”

  Aedan would have liked to believe that much, but how could he when Bradan sounded like he was trying to convince himself? He nodded nonetheless, indicating that he was ready to drop the topic. They had more pressing matters to discuss.

  “Anabel Passed Through even with the shields up. Any idea how?”

  The tension between them dropped in a flash. Bradan grimaced.

  “I was wondering about that. My best guess is, the old shields were atuned to her, so she would be able to come back with Vivien at any time.”

  Confusion swept through Aedan, filling him with nervous energy. He didn’t like not understanding things. “I thought you built new shields?”

  “I did, but I was working off the echo of the old ones. It let me build shields more solid than I could have created on my own, but apparently it created a loophole for Anabel.”

  Over the years, Aedan had tried very hard not to think about what he had given up upon becoming a vampire. At times like these, though, he longed for the ability to channel again; if he’d been able to use the Quickening, he could have helped Bradan build shields from scratch, could have helped him as he tried to heal Anabel, could have—

  But as the old saying went, if the Quickening could mend all mistakes, every second of every minute would be rewritten a thousand times.

  “Can others Pass Through?” he asked.

  Bradan raised his hands, palms out. He didn’t know. Aedan didn’t like not knowing. Sometimes, though, knowing was worse—like knowing that as hard as Bradan tried, he wouldn’t manage to heal Anabel.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Fools

  Bradan felt almost too self-conscious to channel with both Vivien and Aedan at his back, watching his every move as he examined Anabel. He could have fed that emotion to the Quickening, but he’d always believed that nobler feelings like love, affection, or simple determination to do the right thing produced better results.

  He turned back to them and offered them a strained smile.

  “I work better without an audience. Would you mind giving me the room? It’s past lunchtime. You could go have something to eat, Vivien.”

  Her mouth twisted in a pout, and he was sure she would object, but after a quick look at Anabel, she inclined her head.

  “If you think it’ll help.” She approached the bed and leaned in to brush a kiss across Anabel’s cheek. “I’ll be back soon, Ana. And I’ll bring you something to eat, all right?”

  Anabel smiled but didn’t respond. Talking with Vivien had seemed to exhaust her, and she didn’t even watch Vivien and Aedan leave the room, closing her eyes instead.

  “I’m no Healer,” Bradan said quietly as he sat by her side. “But maybe if you can tell me what you feel, it’ll help me figure out what he did and how to help you.”

  Enough time passed that Bradan wondered if she had fallen asleep, but soon her eyelids batted open again and she turned her head on the pillow to look at him. Her heavily lined face had never seemed so grave.

  “Don’t be a fool, boy. We all know I’m going to die.”

  “Don’t say that.” Bradan struggled not to raise his voice. “Even if I can’t heal you, I can take you back to the Otherworld. Their doctors—”

  “Passing Through again would kill me,” she cut in, ending with a small cough. “But you will go back, yes. You will take Vivien back. She can’t stay in our home anymore or even in the city, but she’s a smart girl. She’ll make a new life. Elsewhere.” Her eyes narrowed, and even in her state of weakness, she managed to look disapproving. “And you, boy, will have the chance to be with her.”

  Bradan’s insides twisted unpleasantly. He’d have lied if he had said he’d never dreamed of this—living a human life with Vivien on Earth, with no danger threatening her life—but he knew it for a dream, and an imperfect one at that. Bradan couldn’t imagine abandoning his brother, his oath, and Foh’Ran forever.

  “She’s the heir to the throne,” he protested. “She can’t just disappear.”

  “She knows nothing of Foh’Ran, nothing of the Quickening—”

  “But she’s learning,” Bradan said firmly. “She only needs time.”

  Anabel coughed again. Her voice was at its weakest yet when she said, “She doesn’t have time. None of us do.”

  Her eyes closed again, and Bradan was relieved when her chest continued to move in shallow but regular breaths. Whether she was merely resting or sleeping, he preferred this than arguing with her and weakening her even more. As he considered her body, all but sinking into the bedding, he tried to figure out what to do to help her.

  Foh’Ran had Healers, but Bradan had never had the occasion to train with one. He could heal scratches, or even deeper wounds as long as he could see what he was working on, but from what Aedan had said, Rhuinn’s work was all internal. On Earth, doctors might have scanned Anabel’s body to determine what was wrong with her, but Foh’Ran had no such machinery.

  Unless...

  Bradan tried to temper his excitement as a thought took form in his mind. He’d seen enough medical TV shows to have a small idea, however flawed it might be, of what CAT scans and MRIs results looked like. It didn’t matter that he didn’t know how the images were created or even how to read them, it was the principle of the thing. As long as he had confidence in what he was doing, the Quickening would do the rest.

  He rose from his chair and drew the blanket off Anabel’s body. She was wearing a flowery dress she had often worn in the Otherworld, but the hem was torn, and the dried blood spattered on the front reminded him of the blow she had received in her own home. As he raised his hands to form the familiar gestures above her, she opened her eyes once more and gave him the tiniest of frowns.

  “I told you it’s useless, boy.”

  He never stopped focusing on what he wanted the Quickening to show him: colors over Anabel’s monochrome form, blue where her body functioned as it ought to, red where something was wrong.

  “I have to try,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

  “Have to? Why? For me? I told you not to bother. To prove you’re a good man? We know that already; no one ever took the oath who wasn’t. For her? Don’t you know by now you don’t need to do a thing to get her attention?”

  Her words, an echo of Aedan’s, threatened to derail Bradan’s concentration. He did his best to ignore them, going as far as to close his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, the Quickening had painted the whole of Anabel’s body a shade of red as bright as fresh blood.

  * * * *

  When Brad suggested she go have something for lunch, it was all Vivien could do not to
reply like a petulant child that she wasn’t hungry. He needed room to work, however, so she went down to the kitchen. When she reached it, she realized that it wasn’t only worry for Anabel that was twisting her stomach, but hunger, too.

  Ignoring Aedan’s presence like she had that morning, she helped herself to the same meal of ferbec and bread Brad had offered her that first evening. It had been delicious then, the flavors new and somehow familiar; now, she could barely taste anything more than her fear.

  “Do you think...” She winced when the words just came out of her. She hadn’t meant to talk to Aedan. Too late now, she might as well finish. “Do you think he’ll be able to help her?”

  She glanced up at him when she finished and caught his expression before his features smoothed out. It was clear enough what he thought; Vivien shuddered, as though icy water had trickled down her back.

  “He’ll do his best, Dame Vivien,” he said, confirming her suspicions.

  Anabel had said as much herself, shocking Vivien into denial. Vivien couldn’t imagine her dying; Anabel was all that was left of her family. When she was gone, Vivien would have no one but a man who didn’t dare touch her even though she wanted him to, and another who continued to shadow her every move even when she had asked him to stop.

  “Do you really think someone’s going to attack me in the kitchen?” she asked, trying hard not to roll her eyes at Aedan. As always, he stood near the wall, his arms at his sides, his hands inches away from his knives.

  “Anabel said a messenger is coming,” he said in a level tone. “She Passed Through; they might be able to do the same.”

  Vivien’s next bite of bread stuck in her throat, and she had to swallow hard to push it down. Was she truly in danger even here? Was this why Anabel had admonished her to go back to Earth?

  She ate in silence after that, but her eyes drifted back to Aedan. He wasn’t looking at her, his eyes focused instead on the window above the water pump and basin, although there wasn’t much to see there but a bit of grass and the outside wall of the long corridor leading to the room where Vivien had first stepped into this world.

  Sunlight poured in through the window, pooling on the floor. It was too far to reach Aedan, but it reminded Vivien how he’d been burned that morning. When she looked at his hands, however, she couldn’t even tell which had been hurt anymore. Was it a vampire thing? It had to be, unless Brad had taken the time to heal him before he’d come to find Vivien. It seemed like so much time had passed since that morning, rather than just a few hours.

  She finished eating and was gathering some food on a plate for Anabel when two loud, deep chimes rang through the house, almost deep enough to sound like a gong. She jumped, startled, and nearly dropped the plate to the floor. Her eyes flashed up to meet Aedan’s; they glinted with a metallic shine. His whole body was tense, as though ready to pounce.

  “What was that?” she blurted out.

  “Someone is asking to Pass Through,” he replied in clipped tones. Both his hands were curled over the handles of his knives. “I know if I ask you to remain here you will run out merely to spite me—”

  “To spite you?” She sputtered. He didn’t understand a damn thing, did he? “You keep ordering me around like—”

  “But this is important,” he continued like she hadn’t said a word. “The king’s message might very well be a knife to your heart. Will you please remain hidden until they’re gone?”

  “No,” fell from Vivien’s lips just as the deep chimes rang again.

  She didn’t care that he thought she wanted to ‘spite him’ or that he was frowning at her like he was trying to figure out a way to lock her in the kitchen or that this messenger might mean trouble.

  “I’m not hiding behind anyone,” she said, rising from the table just as Brad walked in.

  Brad looked at Aedan before he looked at her, as though his opinion were what mattered, for this as for all other things. Vivien’s blood boiled, but she held on to her calm, standing tall with all her pride as she said, “You call me ‘dame.’ You say you swore an oath for me. If that means anything, then you’ll take me to talk to that messenger.”

  The two brothers looked at each other. Whatever passed between them, Vivien couldn’t have said, but Brad nodded once. He walked ahead of her, leading the way down the long corridor to the round room; Aedan was a step behind her.

  Vivien knew they would do anything to keep her safe, but the thought was more disquieting than comforting. If the messenger did, in fact, attack her, the last thing she wanted was for either of the brothers to get injured in her place. She’d never asked for any of this. She didn’t want any of this. But the truth remained: if not for Vivien, Anabel wouldn’t have been taken, and she wouldn’t be so ill right now. Vivien refused to let someone else get hurt because of her.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The Messenger

  When they entered the round room, for a second Vivien wondered if her memory was playing tricks on her. When she had arrived in this place with Brad, the walls had been gray, with designs of black stones inlaid around the room. Now, though, everything seemed lighter, the walls a bright white and the designs a deep gray. More light was entering the room from the slits at the top of the walls but it couldn’t account for such a drastic change, could it?

  But when she looked at the walls, a wave of light circled the room twice while the same two, deep notes echoed again, louder now like a gong hung directly above them.

  The familiar sword of light appeared in Brad’s hand. Aedan stepped forward to stand by his side in front of Vivien, and he too was clutching his weapons.

  “No,” Vivien protested, pushing at their shoulders. “I won’t hide.”

  Aedan turned his face to her, though his body did not budge. “You are not hiding. You are standing behind a shield.” His eyes flashed, and his tone deepened as he added, “My oath doesn’t require me to obey you when you are unreasonable about your own safety. If you won’t stay behind us, I will take you back to Anabel and see what your nanny thinks of you acting like a child.”

  The idea of getting Anabel involved was more sobering than the threat of Aedan removing her from the situation—again. She gave one sharp nod, and Brad, who had been observing them, seemed to relax for an instant before he looked away and his body turned rigid. Vivien could see colors swirling around his body, shooting away from the sword and toward the center of the room. They coalesced into a glowing bubble, and the shimmering image of a black-clad woman appeared at its center. She was staring straight ahead, to the right of them, like she couldn’t see them.

  “I bear a message from King Rhuinn Ni Saehuin for Vivien Te Celden. In the name of the king, I demand safe passage and promise no harm in return.”

  Brad glanced at Aedan. “That’s—”

  “Let her through,” Aedan cut in quietly. “And release your sword.”

  He took his own advice and sheathed his knives, although Vivien noticed that his right hand didn’t let go of the hilt, nor did he move one inch away from Brad where he might have exposed Vivien. As things were, she could barely see over their shoulders as they pressed against each other.

  Another burst of swirling colors rushed from Brad toward the center of the room. A doorway of light appeared, and the same woman who had spoken stepped through it. Vivien recognized her then; it was the woman whom Aedan had battled the previous night.

  Tall and lean, with her light brown hair cut short and her uniform similar to the clothes Brad and Aedan wore, she would have looked like a man if not for the delicate femininity of her face and her curves. Her eyes were the same color as the silver hilts of her knives. Her gaze focused on Vivien at once, ignoring the two men as though they weren’t there.

  “Blessings, Vivien Te Celden. I am Ciara Oryonis, second in command to King Rhuinn’s guards, leader of the Oryonis clan.”

  She emphasized that last part as though it should have meant something to Vivien. It didn’t, none of it did, but she suppose
d courtesy couldn’t hurt.

  “Blessings, Ciara Oryonis.”

  She struggled a little on the unfamiliar name, and Ciara’s eyebrows twitched toward a frown before smoothing out again. In front of Vivien, Aedan shifted minutely. Vivien hurried on, hoping to cover her hesitation.

  “You said you have a message for me. I’m listening.”

  Ciara clasped her hands behind her, and intoned in an even more formal tone, if that was possible, “King Rhuinn Ni Saehuin, ruler and protector of Foh’Ran, defender of the Quickening, summons Vivien Te Celden for a private audience tomorrow at noon.”

  Even before Aedan gave a tiny shake of his head, the bad feeling in the pit of Vivien’s stomach was telling her this couldn’t possibly be any good.

  “Our dame declines a private audience,” Aedan said, sounding just as formal as Ciara. “She will come to the king in front of the high families.”

  “If she is your dame,” Ciara shot, for the first time looking at Aedan directly, “how dare you speak for her?”

  Aedan turned his head sideways so that he’d see Vivien without looking completely away from Ciara. “Dame Vivien,” he said in an urgent, low voice, “I know the court. I know the king. I beg you, please ask for a public audience.”

  Until that moment, every time Aedan had tried to tell her what to do, he only irritated Vivien. This time, though, she could see how worried he was—no, not just worried. He was scared. Scared for her. Scared that even giving his life for her might not be enough to save her.

  “I decline a private audience,” she said, trying to remember what words Aedan had used. “I will come but only in front of the families.”

  Who the families were, Vivien had no idea, but if Aedan thought they would keep her safe, it was enough for her.

  Ciara’s neutral expression seemed about to crack into a smile, but she remained stone-faced. “I will transmit your request to the king. Maybe it will suit him better this way, too. An audience is needed for formal occasions, such as a judgment.”