Bloodchild (4 page)

He picked up the body of the ceash
and carried it across his shoulders as they started back toward the castle. For
a while they were both quiet, and it was Bradan who broke the silence.

“What’s upsetting you?” he asked,
eyeing Aedan sideways.

“I’m not upset.”

Bradan snorted and pushed at
Aedan’s shoulder. “You’re usually better than that at hiding what you feel.”

With a frown, Aedan once more
considered what was filtering through the bond. Were Bradan’s emotions
stronger, clearer than they used to be, or was he only imagining it?

Back when they’d been children,
the bond had seemed louder. No, not only then. Even after Bradan had moved to
the Otherworld, leaving Aedan to grow up faster than he did, whenever they met
again the bond would be bursting with emotions, each one as clear as a limpid
sky. Only after Aedan had become a vampire had the bond changed.

It had not disappeared, nor had
the feelings been completely muted, but they had been a little muffled.
Combined with Aedan’s acquired skill at holding back what he felt, it had
allowed Aedan to hide some things from his brother, and in particular—at least
for a time—his feelings for their dame.

But now… Now the bond seemed to be
back to its full strength from their childhood, from before Aedan had taken a
different path and become something other than the human Bradan still had been.
Now, they were the same again: vampires.

That didn’t mean Aedan couldn’t
hide how he felt anymore, but it did mean he’d have to be better at it.

“We’ll have to go back to the
palace before Dame Vivien’s duel,” he finally said in reply to Bradan’s
question. “New vampires need to be presented to the head of their clan within
three nights of rising. Ciara already knows about you.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw
Bradan stumble.

“That… doesn’t sound good,” Bradan
said warily.

Aedan didn’t reply. ‘Not good’ was
very far from the mark when it was possible only one of them would come back
from that meeting. Who would keep Bradan from Dame Vivien’s blood, then?

CHAPTER FOUR

Truth and Lies

Vivien’s heart was racing. She
opened her eyes and looked up at the fabric canopy above her, trying to calm
her heart and forget her dreams. She didn’t need to see Brad’s body lying in a
pool of his own blood any more than she already had.

Her chambers were bright, she
realized after a second or two. Brighter than she expected. Drapes covered the
window, but they failed to completely stop the light coming in from outside. It
had to be at least midmorning.

A soft knock on the door caused
her heart to jump again, and she realized that this was what had awakened her.
Knocking.

Could it possibly be Brad?

“Yes?” she said in a loud, hopeful
voice, sitting up in bed.

The door opened to reveal not
Brad, but Doril. With her usual apron tied at her waist, she ambled forward,
holding a tray in front of her.

“Greetings, Dame Vivien,” she
offered from the threshold. “Did I wake you? I apologize, it wasn’t my
intention to do so. You usually take your breakfast much earlier than this, so
I thought—”

“It’s fine,” Vivien interrupted
her as gently as she could. “I should have been up a while ago. I have a lot to
do.”

Doril seemed to take this as an
invitation to come in. She carried the tray to the bed, setting it on Vivien’s
lap, then walked around the bed to draw the drapes open.

Vivien still felt uneasy having
someone bring her breakfast to her room, and it didn’t help that the last
person who had done so had ended up shoving a knife into the man Vivien loved.
The bitterness at the back of her throat had nothing to do with the sip she
took from the steaming cup of coffee. The aroma, at least, helped chase away
what remained of her dreams.

“Thank you,” she told Doril as the
cook stood by the bed, clasping her hands in front of her. Vivien even managed
to give her a small smile. “The coffee is perfect, and it all looks very good.”

It also looked like enough food to
feed two or three people: it seemed Doril hadn’t forgotten how little Vivien
had had to eat the previous day. Along with the large cup of coffee, three
thick slices of toast waited on the side. Four small jars of fruit jam, each
with its own tiny spoon, were lined up next to each other. A porcelain bowl was
overflowing with fresh roseberries, while another cup held kerly, a thick,
white liquid that Vivien still couldn’t decide if she liked or not, a cross
between milk and yogurt that tasted much better when eaten with roseberries.

Doril’s eyes had grown wide the
first time she’d watched Vivien plop berries in the cup and eat the kerly with
a spoon, but she’d managed to refrain from pointing out what cardinal rule
Vivien had broken by doing so.

Maybe she would enlighten Vivien
now. Was that why she was still standing there, watching Vivien drink her
coffee and pick at the toast?

“Did you want something?” Vivien
asked, setting the cup down on the tray.

Doril lowered her gaze.

“Only to apologize, Dame Vivien.
It was I who suggested Loree might be fit to be your handmaid. Should you want
me to leave the castle over my mistake… I would understand.”

Anger flashed through Vivien at
the mere mention of Loree’s name. Not for the first time, she wished she could
have caught her before she escaped in Rhuinn’s palace. Vivien had no idea what
she would have done with her. She’d never believed in ‘an eye for an eye’ as a
justice system nor did she think she could kill anyone in cold blood. Loree had
hurt Brad, however. She had ended his human life. She had to be punished.

Doril, on the other hand, did not.
At least, not as far as Vivien knew. And last night, staying awake for hours trying
to figure out what she could have done differently, she’d come to a decision.
She wouldn’t go as far as Rhuinn did to make sure she could trust someone; she
wouldn’t hurt people or allow someone to be hurt in her name. But she had to be
sure Loree had been the only traitor in her small entourage. She had to know,
somehow. And she thought she knew how.

Doing this had been on the mental
‘to-do’ list she’d drawn for the day, but she’d meant to talk to Brad and Aedan
before she tried, to get their input and maybe their advice. Since Doril was
already there, however, why wait?

Pushing the tray aside on the
large bed, Vivien swung her legs out from under the covers. She doubted she
looked anything like the ‘dame’ or ‘queen’ she was supposed to be, sitting on
the edge of the bed in flannel pajamas, her hair a mess and her eyes still full
of sleep, but she could at least try to act the way Doril expected her to.

“I will not ask you to leave,” she
said. “Not unless that’s what you want.”

Doril’s relieved smile was answer
enough. Vivien pushed on, steeling herself. She hated that she had to do this
at all, and for that matter she wasn’t even sure it’d work, but she had to try.

“But if you want to stay, then I
must know you truly work for me and no one else.”

She focused on what she felt,
choosing one emotion the way Brad had taught her: anger. Her anger at the way
he’d been hurt, the way she’d been unable to help—the way she’d been too naive
to even suspect she or her people might be attacked in her own home. She’d
learned her lesson, and she wouldn’t ever be so careless again.

“Do I have your permission to
channel over you? I will not hurt you, I promise.”

The room had turned to shades of
gray when Vivien started channeling, but the light burning in Doril’s eyes remained
the same, and if her small smile wavered, it wasn’t for long.

“Of course, my lady. What do you
wish me to do?”

“Nothing more than tell me the
truth.”

You can do anything you want
with the Quickening
, Brad had told Vivien.
Anything you can imagine. All
you need is a strong enough emotion along with an intense focus.

What she imagined right now was a
globe of clear light, no bigger than her closed fist, hovering above Doril’s
head. She focused all of her anger on that globe and knew, with the same certainty
she knew her own name, the same absolute certainty she loved Brad, that the
globe would glow with a green light if Doril told her the truth, and with a red
light if she lied.

A flow of colorful sparks was
pouring out of Vivien toward the globe, which she had expected. What surprised
her for a second was how some of those sparks were circling Doril, too, but it
did make sense. Doril was part of it. The Quickening would need to touch her
somehow to know whether she was telling the truth.

Vivien had only ever directed her
channeling at one other person, Brad, and under very different conditions. She
chased away the memory, both because she didn’t want to start blushing now and
because she couldn’t afford distractions. For some reason, it was already harder
than usual to maintain her grasp on the Quickening.

Doril had noticed the new source
of light, and she looked up briefly toward the globe, but her gaze soon
returned to Vivien. She didn’t say anything, nor did she seem nervous. Vivien
thought that might be a good sign.

“Has anyone sent you here to spy
on me?” Vivien asked.

The question was blunt on purpose.
She didn’t want Doril to have time to think about her answer. She remembered
reading about polygraphs, and how some people could master their own body
reactions well enough to pass the test and lie without being detected.
Hopefully the Quickening had no such loopholes.

No, she chastised herself as soon
as the thought drifted through her mind. Not hopefully. It all depended on what
she believed, what she knew and willed to be true. There was no room for hope.
No room for lies. No loophole.

“No one,” Doril said in a strong
voice, drawing herself up to her full height. “I am no spy, and I serve no one
but you, Dame Vivien.”

As she spoke, the globe changed color
and started casting a green light over the colorless room, giving Doril’s skin
a rather sickly tinge. Doril looked up again, frowning.

Vivien nodded once. “Do you know
of anyone in this castle who is a spy?”

“I do not, my lady.”

The light emanating from the globe
remained a steady green.

“Did you know Loree was sent here
to spy, or steal, or hurt any of us?”

A hint of heat crept into Doril’s
voice: anger at being asked the question so directly, or anger that someone she
had vouched for had proven untrustworthy? Vivien couldn’t tell.

“I did not know of her intentions.
If I had, I would have informed you right away. And I truly am sorry for young
Bradan’s fate.”

The globe never changed color.

When Vivien had planned this, she
had thought she would ask multiple questions, rephrase, prod, try to catch a
lie, but now that she actually had Doril in front of her, could see her
reactions, and hear her voice at the same time as she watched the green light
above her, she didn’t think she needed anything more.

Doril was loyal to her, and no
amount of questions would prove otherwise. Besides, Vivien was beginning to
feel the strain of the Quickening, her heart beating faster, her breathing more
labored. It had only happened once so far, when Brad had suggested she test her
limits by channeling for a very long time. She’d stopped after four hours, but
even then she’d thought she could have kept at it if she had needed to.

Letting go of the Quickening,
Vivien held her hand out to Doril. The old cook looked a little taken aback,
but after a second of hesitation, she did take Vivien’s hand. Her knuckles and
the back of her hand were sprinkled with small dots barely darker than her
wrinkled skin, Vivien noticed. Anabel’s hands had been just like that. Vivien
tightened her fingers gently over Doril’s and smiled.

“I am sorry I asked such crude
questions,” Vivien said. “But I had to know. I had to be sure. And anyone else
who enters my service will have to pass the same test.”

Doril gave their hands a furtive
and slightly uncomfortable glance, so Vivien let go. Grabbing both sides of her
dress, Doril offered a small curtsy.

“Please, Dame Vivien. You do not
need to be sorry. Of course you need to be sure of the people around you. If I
may be blunt, I expected to be asked to swear an oath to you when I first
returned to the castle.”

“An oath?” Vivien repeated. “You
mean, like my guards?”

Doril nodded. “In times such as
these, it is not unheard of for all staff in a castle to swear. And should you
require it of me, I would be happy to take the oath.”

The notion troubled Vivien, more
so than Doril would have understood if Vivien had tried to explain. She already
had issues understanding the oath to protect her that Brad and Aedan had sworn
when they’d been only children. She couldn’t imagine asking anyone else to
swear as well and tie their lives to hers.

“No oath,” she said with another
small smile. “I trust you. And also… I don’t believe I thanked you for coming
back to the castle when you heard of my return. So there you go. Thank you. It
was brave of you, I do realize that. And I am grateful for your trust in me.”

Had Vivien’s globe still been
hanging over them, it might have turned scarlet as she stretched the truth to
the point of breaking. No, she was not grateful for Doril’s trust. She didn’t
want anyone to put such faith in her when she hardly knew what she was doing.

If she failed, if Rhuinn defeated
her in their upcoming duels, then anyone who had shown allegiance to her would
be in danger. It wasn’t anything she wanted to be responsible for, but she
hadn’t been given much choice. And as she watched Doril practically glow with
pride, she realized that her words, although not fully sincere, were
appreciated. It made it worth offering them.

“Do you need anything else, my
lady?” Doril asked. “Will you need assistance getting dressed?”

Vivien was almost proud of herself
when she managed not to grimace. That had been the hardest part for her about
having a handmaid, and she intended to dispense with one from now on. Or at
least she would dispense with one until Aedan nagged her into submission—again.

“I’ll be fine,” she replied.
“Thank you. And thank you for my breakfast. You may go.”

With another small bow, Doril left
the room. Vivien turned her attention back to the breakfast tray. The coffee
was no more than tepid now; the toast, cold. Still, she was famished, and
finished every last bit of food before washing up and getting dressed.

She’d have liked to slide on a
tee-shirt and a pair of comfortable jeans, but she reminded herself that
everything was about appearances. If she couldn’t dress the part for the people
in her own castle and have them see her as queen, who would ever take her
seriously?

It meant putting on one of her
mother’s dresses, one of the dresses Loree had altered to fit her before she’d
revealed herself as a traitor and murderer. Vivien would have to learn not to
think of that.

She chose one of the simplest
dresses, with sleeves that stopped just past her elbows, a skirt that brushed
the floor, and very little embroidery. Most importantly, it fastened in the
front. It wasn’t an accident that it happened to be the same shade of blue as
Brad’s eyes.

Next, she pinned the QuickSilver
insignia over her heart. She’d cleaned off Brad’s blood from the silver the
previous night before going to bed, polishing each swirl of the Celtic-looking
symbol, and the entire time thinking of the silver tattoo in the same shape
that glittered on Brad’s wrist.

Thinking of Brad, too.

When she looked at herself in the
mirror, she didn’t see a potential queen, or the dame in control of everything
like she had tried to act for Doril earlier. She only saw Vivien, the girl who
was still shaken by her boyfriend dying and coming back to life as a vampire.