Blood Legacy: The Story of Ryan (30 page)

Prior to her life with Victor, Ryan had so seldom seen her own reflection she did not recognize herself the first time she gazed through Victor’s eyes. It had taken her awhile to realize that Victor also saw through her eyes, and longer to realize she could hide nothing from him.

Ryan had no pictures of Victor. No paintings, no photographs, no film, no images of him whatsoever. But it did not matter, because the Memories were etched into her mind forever, as clear as the day they were recorded.

CHAPTER 24

“WELL, WHAT DO YOU THINK?”

Ryan leaned over the railing of the ship. They were still miles from shore, but she could just barely make out the land in the distance. A seaman next to them snorted, he could see nothing.

Ryan pushed away from the railing. Victor had tired of war, and tired of their leisure in France, and then tired of his castle in England. But he never tired of showing Ryan the world. It had been his decision to travel across the channel, then south through France, but Ryan’s to take a ship through the Mediterranean. Their destination was the Papal States themselves, and ultimately Rome.

“I can’t tell. It certainly doesn’t look like England.”

Victor laughed. No, it certainly wouldn’t be like England.

They landed in port and Victor left instructions to restock the ship with supplies. He and Ryan had needed little on the trip over, but the crew required food and water. The captain leaped to do his master’s bidding. After all, his lordship owned the ship.

The two began their journey to the city. They were to meet Marilyn in Rome, but Victor was in no hurry, moving with the leisurely gait of their Kind. 

Ryan knew they were going to join Marilyn, and she had mixed emotions. It was difficult for her to remember how long it had been since she had seen the dark-haired woman. After their initial meeting, she and Victor had seen the woman at various social engagements. But Victor tired of the whirlwind of parties with the Others, and once he felt Ryan had received enough exposure, he spirited her away. Ryan remembered that Marilyn had watched her leave with a gaze that made her shudder for many reasons.

Ryan thought back. With her long, strange sleeping patterns intermixed with months of staying awake, it was difficult to judge time. Days blended into weeks which blended into years. Ryan was surprised, perhaps it had been several decades since she had seen Marilyn.

Ryan glanced over at Victor. She was curious why Victor accepted Marilyn’s invitation. She knew he did not trust Marilyn around her; she gathered that much from his Memories. But she also knew Victor enjoyed the challenge of Marilyn’s presence. Ryan inwardly frowned, perhaps he found her company lacking.

Victor glanced down at his young companion knowingly. She could not know the reservation he had about bringing her within Marilyn’s grasp, nor did she realize his reasons for doing so were strictly political. There were strange winds blowing within the papacy, winds that would affect him were he not to take action first. He had not survived for centuries without knowing when he could keep to himself, and when he had to act.

Victor glanced down at Ryan, who was still lost in thought. She was correct; Marilyn did stimulate him. But not to the degree that she herself did. One of Ryan’s most endearing qualities was her complete unawareness of her own allure.

It had been a wise decision to keep Ryan cloistered before meeting their Kind. During that first century, Ryan had little to judge herself by except Victor, giving her no concept of how truly powerful she was.

Victor was thoughtful. Even once Ryan had become aware of her place in the hierarchy of their Kind, it seemed to have little affect on her. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know how powerful she was, it was as if she didn’t care.

Victor inwardly smiled. Each passing year told him he could not have planned or chosen better.

Ryan realized Victor was immensely pleased with himself for some reason, and she wondered if it was because they would soon see Marilyn. She tentatively touched his mind, feeling only for impressions.

She didn’t think so.

Marilyn glanced out the window of the alcove at the two figures below. Victor was speaking graciously to a young woman who was fluttering her fan about her face. Humans, both male and female found Victor devastatingly handsome, and Marilyn herself could hardly disagree. She turned her attention to the girl and her eyes narrowed. As usual, the whelp was dressed as a man.

Ryan possessed the peculiar androgyny of their Kind, and although all were essentially sexless, Ryan seemed to epitomize this genderless quality. Dressed now in breeches, boots, and a loose shirt, it was difficult to determine if she made a more beautiful girl or boy. Even Marilyn had to admit Victor’s progeny was stunning.

Marilyn reached out to touch the girl and Ryan immediately looked upward. Marilyn was startled to feel the girl’s strength. Although she was still no match for Marilyn’s own immense power, the girl was already beginning to demonstrate signs of a rare maturity. So many of their Kind at Ryan’s age were drunk with their own power and failed to grow into it. Ryan’s power was phenomenal for one less than two centuries, and yet she seemed to be adapting gracefully.

Marilyn’s eyes narrowed again. Once more, the girl seemed to be the exception.

As if sensing her thoughts, Victor turned his gaze upward. The young lass, realizing she had lost his lordship’s attention, turned her fan to the young, fair-haired gentleman. But he, too, was looking upward and the young lady realized petulantly that she could not compete with the beauty of the woman in the window.

Victor grasped Ryan’s arm and the two entered the villa. Ryan tried to calm herself but she felt a fluttering inside as Marilyn swept down the staircase towards them.

“Hello darling,” Marilyn said, taking Victor’s hands into her own. She leaned forward and kissed him chastely on the lips, lingering perhaps a little too long. She released Victor and turned to Ryan, who had the sudden urge to take a step backward.

Marilyn sensed Ryan’s trepidation and was both entertained and enticed by it. She could not let such a moment pass.

“Hello, little one.”

The endearment was subtly insulting and the amusement in Marilyn’s eyes told Ryan it was so intended. But before Ryan could react to the slight, Marilyn stepped close to her and pulled Ryan to her. She embraced her and Ryan felt Marilyn’s lips brush her neck with a kiss.

The caress sent a shock through Ryan and she stiffened. She pulled backward, staggering into Victor who caught her easily. He sighed.

“I see you haven’t changed, Marilyn.”

Marilyn smiled, her dark eyes still on Ryan. “But she has, my lord.” She turned her gaze to Victor. “And in other ways, she has not.”

To Ryan’s relief, Victor and Marilyn settled to discuss business. Ryan was not interested in the politics of their conversation, although she knew she should be. Instead, she turned her attention to the contents of her bag. She carefully removed an object wrapped in soft leather and set it upon the table in front of her. She removed the leather coverlet and folded it, setting it aside.

Ryan stared down at her prize possession. It was a copy of Le Morte d’Arthur, printed in Latin. Victor had given her the book as a gift, and although she had read it hundreds of times, it was still her favorite.

Books were extremely rare and Ryan had seen very few of them. But every one she had seen, Victor had bought. She had a beautiful copy of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, but that story, although humorous, did not enthrall her the way King Arthur and his knights did.

Ryan could now speak several languages, but could read only in Latin. It was something of a shock for her to read the Bible for the first time. The actual words of the scriptures were far different from those told to her as a peasant boy, several lifetimes ago. Ryan realized the local clergy had based their sermons on many things, but few that were found within the text of the Bible. It made her realize how powerless the people had been because of their ignorance; they had no choice but to believe whatever the priests told them. Ryan understood how important books were, and how important they would become.

Ryan traced the words on the cover in front of her, then opened the book and began to read. She was engrossed in the tale when she realized someone was speaking to her. She raised her head to find both Victor and Marilyn looking at her.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Marilyn turned to Victor. “Don’t tell me she has hopes of becoming a scholar.”

Forty or fifty years ago, the comment would have caused Ryan to blush. Now she calmly returned Marilyn’s gaze. “No, I don’t wish to become a scholar. But I do enjoy reading.”

Marilyn was thoughtful for a long moment. “I’m not certain I know anyone else who knows how to read. Did Victor teach you?”

Ryan nodded. She had the feeling Marilyn was contemplating something, although she was not certain what. She was surprised at the woman’s next words.

“Then perhaps you could teach me.”

Marilyn’s words were not directed at Victor, but at Ryan. Ryan glanced at Victor uncertainly. It would be rude for her to refuse Marilyn, but agreeing to tutor her would put her in the woman’s company far more than she liked. It could also place her in situations where she would be extremely close to Marilyn, and Victor might not always be present.

From the calculated look in Marilyn’s eye, that was exactly what she intended. But whatever her motives, Ryan could not find reason to refuse her.

“I guess I could do that,” Ryan said hesitantly. “I’m certain you would find reading enjoyable.”

Marilyn’s words were laced with double meaning. “I’m certain I’d find it most enjoyable.”

Victor was not completely happy with Marilyn’s games with Ryan. But Ryan would have to learn to deal with her sooner or later, so it might as well be under these circumstances. He made a mental note to himself, however, to stay close when the “lessons” took place.

Ryan carefully repacked her book and stood to leave. Victor noted the lengthening shadows and reminded Ryan of their evening commitment.

“Do not forget our engagement. We must leave before sundown.”

Ryan nodded. She might as well get dressed now. It would be one of the few times Victor asked her to dress in garb beyond that of a stable boy. She started up the stairs, her thoughts filled with irony.

Who knew that a peasant boy, born in poverty and filth, would nearly two centuries later dress in the clothing of kings? And who knew that such a boy, raised in complete ignorance of all but his village, would one day travel to foreign lands and be one of the first to read the works of scholars?

And who knew that this peasant boy, who had never received more than passing attention from the local priest, would one day be summoned into the presence of Rodrigo Lanzol Y Borgia, otherwise known as Pope Alexander VI?

Ryan pulled the embroidered doublet over her pleated undershirt. Both were a deep indigo, contrasting with the black silk hose and ankle boots she wore. The sleeves of the blue shirt were split and embroidered with black thread. The outfit was simple but elegant, and Ryan was pleased with her appearance.

Victor was more than pleased with her appearance. Ryan possessed a lithe muscularity that was rare if not non-existent in the nobility. Few could wear the clothing she did, and none could wear it as well.

Victor pulled his own doublet on, then the knee-length coat. Of course with Ryan traveling as a man, it would once again bring into question their relationship. He smiled grimly to himself.

With what he had heard about the man currently heading the Church of Rome, it would not matter what anyone thought of them.

Marilyn watched the two leave, against her will admiring the pair they made. Ryan looked the part of a young prince and Victor that of a reigning king, the former angelically handsome and the latter devilishly so. The two, accompanied by a fair-sized entourage carrying gifts, set out for the Vatican.

Ryan was not particularly excited about the evening ahead, but as they approached the papal palace, an odd tension overtook her. She was becoming ever more attuned to the emotions of humans and wondered what was causing such a tautness in the air.

As they neared the grounds, flags embossed with a red bull on a field of gold stirred in the mild breeze. Once inside the gates, they were surrounded by statues in various erotic poses sprinkled throughout the garden.