Bloodchild Read online

  “Because I didn’t want you to be afraid of me.”

  Also because he’d been too ashamed of himself: too scared that he’d never get control over his hunger, and never be worthy of being part of the QuickSilver Guard.

  Without warning, Bradan shoved at his shoulder. Aedan glared at him and received an identical glare in return.

  “You idiot,” Bradan said, but the hint of a smile was soon tugging at his mouth. “Like I could ever be afraid of you.”

  A retort rose to Aedan’s lips, but he swallowed it back. This wasn’t about him or about the past. It was about Bradan right here, right now.

  “Well, maybe I was an idiot, but I won’t let you be one. So. Whenever you’re hungry, what are you to do?”

  With an excessively deep sigh, Bradan yielded.

  “Fine. If I get too hungry to think clearly, I’ll tell you.”

  Aedan raised an eyebrow and waited. He didn’t have to wait very long.

  “I’m hungry,” Bradan said with another sigh. “Which you know because it filters through the bond.”

  Tugging his sleeve higher up his arm, Aedan held out his bare wrist to Bradan.

  “Like with the ceash,” he said. “Make the conscious effort to drop your fangs. And this time you’ll stop at the exact moment I tell you to. Got it?”

  Bradan’s nod seemed a little impatient. Both his hands clasped Aedan, one on his wrist and the other higher up his arm. His brow furrowed in concentration, and it only took him a handful of seconds to let his fangs out. His bite was more controlled than when he’d first awakened, and it didn’t hurt as much. It was a good first step.

  “And yes, it does filter through the bond,” Aedan murmured, watching his brother drink from him. “But just the same. I want you to tell me. That way you’ll be on the look-out for the signs. That’s how you’ll learn. Stop now.”

  He didn’t tug his arm back as he said the words. This, too, was how Bradan would learn. And he had so many things to learn in so little time…

  The suction stopped, but Bradan tightened his hold on Aedan’s wrist rather than letting go, and his mouth didn’t leave Aedan’s skin.

  “I know it’s hard,” Aedan said quietly. “I know you’re hungry. But you’ve got to learn to control your hunger rather than let it control you. That’s the only way you’ll be safe around humans.”

  Bradan’s eyes closed and, still holding on tight to Aedan’s wrist and arm, he pushed himself away. The effort seemed to take all he had, and when he let go, he lowered himself to the grass, lying there, panting.

  “The only way humans will be safe around me, you mean,” he said after a few seconds. “The only way she’ll be safe around me.”

  Only when Bradan’s eyes opened again and sought his gaze did Aedan reply.

  “Yes.”

  Bradan folded his arms behind his head. He stared up at the sky above them, devoid of stars because the shield masked them, and Aedan focused on what was filtering through the bond. The hunger was there, would always be there from now on, a background note that would grow louder at times, and at times recede until it almost—but not quite—disappeared.

  Right now, the hunger was a presence but not overwhelming. What came through much more clearly was Bradan’s love for their dame, mixed with worry. It was good that he worried. Aedan did, too.

  “How is she?” Bradan asked after a few moments, turning his face back to Aedan. “What happened with Rhuinn? Did she go to the party at all?”

  Aedan nodded absently.

  “She did. I wish you could have seen her. She marched in there like she was already the queen, called him out for having you and Anabel murdered, and challenged him to a duel. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Rhuinn that shocked. Or angry.”

  But Rhuinn wasn’t the only one shocked. Bradan sat up again, his eyes wide and gleaming like silver coins.

  “She challenged him to a duel?” he repeated, choking on the words. “But she just learned to channel! How could you let her—”

  He fell silent when Aedan burst out laughing. There was no joy to the sound, however, and soon Aedan quieted down again.

  “Let her?” Aedan said. “There was no ‘letting her.’ She told me what she wanted to do, and it was pretty clear that I could either go along with her or watch her go on her own. And yes, she just learned, but she’s strong. She has five days to practice and get even better.”

  “Five days.” Bradan shook his head. “That’s not much time at all. I’ll start sparring with her tomorrow using nothing but the Quickening and…”

  Aedan didn’t have to say anything. Already, Bradan had remembered that, no, he wouldn’t be able to do that. He could still coach their dame into using the Quickening, but he wouldn’t be able to channel with her anymore.

  The look of loss that flickered over his features, matching the painful pang that came through the bond, reawakened Aedan’s guilt. He wanted to apologize, but what words would be enough to make up for all that he had taken from his brother by making him a vampire?

  Reaching for Bradan’s knee, he patted it twice a little awkwardly.

  “We’ll figure out some way for her to practice,” he said. “She’ll be fine, you’ll see. She’s strong. She was devastated after… after what happened to you, and still she stood her ground in front of Rhuinn.”

  “You’ve stopped calling him the king,” Bradan noted, a small smile touching his lips. “It took you long enough.”

  Looking away, Aedan pushed himself to his feet.

  “Like our dame said, he deserves the title of murderer more than he does the name of king. Come on, let’s go back.”

  Bradan stood and picked up his shirt from the branch. It was still wet, of course, and Bradan’s hand flicked toward it in the familiar movement that had accompanied his channeling. Aedan’s insides tightened, and he pretended not to have noticed, nor did he comment on the feeling of frustration that resonated through the bond.

  Had he been able to restore Bradan’s life, give him back his heartbeat along with his ability to channel, Aedan would have gladly given his own life in exchange. But what was done was done, and there was no changing it.

  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 Dori
l’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.”