Bodyguards (15 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Painful Truths

As she followed Brad down the
first floor corridors to the staircase, one thought continued to bounce through
Vivien’s mind: if Aedan had wanted to interrupt them, he couldn’t have found a
better way. And of course he would have wanted to stop them from sleeping
together. He was the one who continued to call her ‘dame,’ who treated her like
the royalty they claimed she was. She’d thought Brad could see her, the Vivien
he knew from Earth; after his declaration of love, she’d been all but certain
of it. Now, though, she wasn’t sure anymore.

“Maybe you should stay here,” he
said as they reached the second floor and he paused on the landing.

“You said there was no danger,”
she shot back.

“I think there isn’t, but let me
check with Aedan—”

In answer, Vivien strode past him.
She wanted to see Aedan first and know if he’d made up this supposed alarm for
no good reason, as she believed. If he thought he could continue to treat her
like a child and dictate what she could or couldn’t do, she’d have to teach him
better.

With Brad now at her side, she
marched toward the faint voices she could hear at the end of the corridor. One
was Aedan’s, but the other... Her heart jumped when she recognized it, and she
couldn’t help blurting out, “It’s Ana!”

Brad started to say her name, but
Vivien didn’t wait to hear what he had to say. She rushed forward, sheer joy
bursting through her. Anabel was there, out of danger! Everything would be all
right now.

Or so Vivien thought until she
reached the open door from which the voices were still rising. She was beaming
when she entered the bedroom, but her smile faded as soon as she saw Anabel on
the bed. Two days had passed since Anabel had been taken. Her ashen skin, the deep
circles under her eyes, even the way her hands lay utterly still on the blanket
that covered her to her waist—all of it made her appear twenty years older than
when Vivien had last seen her.

Guilt slammed through Vivien as
she slowly crossed the last few steps to the bed, barely aware that Aedan was
rising from the chair by the bedside and moving back. To think not that long
ago she and Brad had been splashing water on each other like kids, laughing,
then losing themselves in one another, and meanwhile Anabel...

Vivien’s knees buckled, and she
collapsed rather than sat in the chair Aedan had vacated.

“You look like you’ve seen a
ghost, child,” Anabel said with that same warm smile Vivien knew so well, but
with a tremor in her voice that was entirely new.

“Not a ghost,” Vivien murmured.
“Just someone I missed very much.”

Anabel’s hand rose toward Vivien’s
head, and for a moment Vivien thought she wanted to caress her hair. Instead,
she plucked a petal from Vivien’s tangled hair and brought it close to her face
to look at it. When she lowered her hand again, the petal still between her
fingers, she pinched her lips together to hold back words. Vivien could imagine
them quite well, and she felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

“What happened?” she asked. “Did
they let you go?”

Anabel wheezed out a laugh. She
made as though to sit up, and Vivien helped her at once, pushing a pillow
behind her back to prop her up.

“Rhuinn let me go, yes,” she said
in a more somber tone. “A gesture of good will, he said, to show you he means
you no harm.”

Behind Vivien, someone made a
sound like a stifled snort. When she turned, Vivien couldn’t say if it had been
Aedan or Brad, both of them straight and immobile, side by side like soldiers
awaiting orders. Anabel clucked her tongue and continued on the same tone.

“He will send a messenger soon to
invite you to come talk to him. He’s very curious about you.” She coughed once,
her entire body shaking. “He had many questions.”

Vivien swallowed hard. She wanted
to ask if Rhuinn’s questioning had involved violence, but she couldn’t make
herself say the words. Besides, she didn’t need to; she only had to look at
Anabel to know. Maybe her long sleeves or the blankets hid injuries, but her
eyes gave it away. They’d always sparkled with an inner life; now, they seemed
dull, as though an opaque film were blocking the light.

“Do you think I should go?” she
asked instead. “If all he wants is to talk, maybe it’d be better if I just—”

“No.”

The word resonated through the
room with more strength than Anabel seemed to possess. She took Vivien’s hand
and held it tight between both of hers, even as her gaze drifted to the two men
at her back.

“Give us a moment, boys,” she
demanded. “There are things I need to tell our dame.”

A chill went through Vivien as she
heard Anabel call her by the title that was beginning to irk her. She’d have
given a lot to be nothing more than ‘child’ again, to be back in their kitchen
and listening to Anabel tell her how Brad was wrong for her.

The door closed behind Aedan and
Brad with a scrapping of wood against wood. Vivien realized she was holding her
breath, a little scared of what Anabel might tell her. She didn’t want to be
anyone’s dame, didn’t want to fight a man she didn’t know for a throne that was
supposedly hers. Why couldn’t she just be Vivien, she wanted to ask. Why
couldn’t she just go home?

She was about to blurt all of this
out when Anabel met her gaze and said in a low, intense voice, “You need to go
home, Vivien.”

Air rushed out of Vivien’s lungs,
leaving her unable to do more than whisper, “What?”

“Forget whatever those boys told
you. You need to get as far away from Rhuinn as you can. Go back to the
Otherworld, to Earth. Bradan will go with you if you order him to. You can move
somewhere else, where Rhuinn won’t find you.”

“But I don’t even know how he
found me this time,” Vivien said.

“He found you because we were
fools.” Regret tinted Anabel’s words, and she tightened her hands over
Vivien’s. “We channeled, Bradan and I. Me for my readings and shields over our
home, and he Passing Through back and forth between Earth and Foh’Ran. Someone
noticed. Reported to the false king. That’s how he knew. But if you don’t
channel, if you and Bradan don’t use the Quickening at all, you’ll be safe.”

It struck Vivien, at that moment,
that Anabel kept saying ‘you’ and mentioning Vivien and Brad, as though she
herself were not going to come. Vivien felt ice creeping over her, stilling her
tongue, keeping her frozen and immobile. She shattered the ice and leaned
forward, encircling Anabel’s frail form with both her arms, laying her head in
her lap like she had done as a child.

* * * *

Aedan looked at Bradan as he
closed the door, leaving Vivien alone with Anabel. They had a lot to talk
about, but before they did, he wanted to make sure of something. He didn’t need
to focus much to hear what they were saying. As he had thought, Anabel was
urging Vivien to go back to the Otherworld.

“Why did you bring her here?” she
had berated him earlier when he helped her to what had once been her room.
“Right under Rhuinn’s nose! I knew your brother was a dreamer, but I thought
you, at least, had more sense than that. Don’t you know what he’s capable of?”

Aedan did know, and that was why
he had not tried to argue with Anabel; why argue with the dying? Now gesturing
for Bradan to come with him to the end of the hallway, he wondered how much he
should share—and immediately chastised himself for the thought. He had no
reason to hide anything from Bradan.

“She’s going to die,” he said in a
low voice, holding Bradan’s eyes so he would know the truth of his words. “If
the king wanted to give a message when he sent her back, it was a warning.
Resist me, and this is what will happen to you, too.”

The same shock Aedan could read on
Bradan’s features reverberated through their bond.

“Are you sure?” For a moment, he
sounded more like a child than a grown man. “She’s just tired. She’s been
through a lot. But she’s tough.”

“I’ve seen it before.” Aedan
leaned back against the wall. He felt tired suddenly, old, but he had no time
for either feeling. “It’s a particular channeling trick the king mastered. It
only works on channelers. Their body weakens, or sometimes their mind. Within a
few days, they pass away. He has done it before with high families that protested
his rule. He’d summon a few of them, tell them how disappointed he was,
channeling the entire time to magnify his voice and aura. It disguises that
he’s channeling toward them, too, so when they leave they don’t know if one of
them is going to die, and if so who. The perfect tool to strike terror in his
opponents’ hearts.”

Bradan’s fists closed tight on
either side of him. “But why do they even go if they know the risks?”

Sometimes, Aedan forgot that
Bradan did not know everything he did. He had shared a lot of what he had
learned as a king’s guard, but there had always been too much to explain, and
some things Aedan himself wished he didn’t know.

“Because it’s even riskier to
refuse. Not everyone has shields as good as this castle’s.”

“So if they don’t go, he sends his
guards,” Bradan finished the thought. His eyebrows started to draw together,
and he looked away.

Aedan wished he hadn’t known
exactly what Bradan was thinking. Yes, the king had ordered Aedan on missions
such as that one. It was what being a king’s guard entailed. And it had been
worth it: had Aedan not been a trusted guard, he’d never have had the
opportunity to save Vivien.

“When they’re done talking, I’ll
try to heal her.” Bradan’s determination was already strong enough to channel,
as strong as his need had been earlier, and probably for the same reason.

“And when you do,” Aedan asked,
his voice colder than he meant it to be, “will it be for Anabel’s sake or to
impress Dame Vivien?”

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.