Bodyguards (7 page)

“So...she was married, but he
wasn’t my father?”

“She needed an heir.” Even knowing
he’d have to explain this didn’t make it any easier to find the words. “She
knew when she married Lord Stefen that he wouldn’t be able to give her a
child.”

“So she cheated on him?” Vivien
blurted out.

Irritation flashed through the
bond Bradan shared with his brother, and he knew he had better answer before
Aedan did.

“Vivien, you need to understand
something. Things on Foh’Ran are different from the way they are on Earth.
People here don’t equate love and monogamy. She probably told him about her
affair, or affairs. If he had some too, he probably told her about them as
well. It didn’t mean they loved each other any less or that they weren’t happy
together.”

As closely as he observed her,
Bradan couldn’t tell what she thought of it all. Did she believe him? Could she
comprehend that customs on Foh’Ran were different from what they were like in
the Otherworld? Could she accept it? The last thing he wanted was for her to
have a bad opinion of her mother.

He expected her to ask more
questions about it, but after a few seconds she said, “There were more people
here in my dream. A woman and a man. I think... I think she was called Merel?”

The same pang of pain that rang
through Bradan was echoed through his bond with Aedan.

“Our mother,” Bradan said, choking
a little on the words. “Your nanny.”

She nodded once. “And your
father?”

“His name was Lasdan,” Aedan
chimed in when Bradan didn’t answer right away. “He was one of Dame Eleoren’s
QuickSilver guards.”

Another nod. “He was there too,”
Vivien murmured. Her eyes became a little unfocused as her eyebrows pulled
together. Was she trying to remember more of her dream—more of her life before
the Otherworld?

“Vivien...” Bradan touched her
hand lightly, drawing her attention back to him. “It’s late. Shouldn’t you get
back to bed? We can talk more tomorrow.”

She still looked absentminded, but
when Bradan stood and offered her his hand, she took it and allowed him to pull
her to her feet. He accompanied her back upstairs, Aedan following on their
heels. Bradan didn’t look forward to answering Vivien’s next questions, nor did
he look forward to talking to Aedan in private. Maybe in the morning after a
good night’s sleep, things wouldn’t look so complicated; and maybe he’d have forgotten
what Vivien looked like in her nightclothes.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Fights

Bradan’s heartbeat filled their
childhood bedroom and ticked the hours away. To Aedan, it was one of the most
soothing sounds he knew.

As years passed, he’d taken human
lovers, but their heartbeats had been no more than noise, irritating when he
tried to sleep. His brother’s heartbeat was different, almost as though it were
Aedan’s own. He’d missed that heartbeat and presence over the years; Bradan had
visited, but never often enough. To him, it had been days, maybe a couple of
weeks between each visit. To Aedan, it had often been months hiding the core of
who he was from the guards around him, the king, and even his Maker.

Now that he was back in this house
with his brother at his side—now that he had betrayed the king and shown his
true colors—he wouldn’t have to lie anymore about who he was or what he wanted.
So why was he having such a hard time finding sleep?

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Bradan’s voice, rising from the
bed on the other side of the room, was barely any louder than his heartbeat.

“It’s still early,” Aedan
muttered. “You should sleep some more. You were exhausted.”

“So were you.” The sheets rustled
softly as Bradan sat up. “Did you get any sleep at all?”

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

Sliding both hands behind his
head, Aedan kept his eyes on the ceiling and smiled. From anyone else, he’d
have taken the accusation as an insult, even if it were true. From Bradan, it
felt almost comforting: it was proof that someone knew him, inside and out.
He’d missed being near someone who could see through his masks.

Muted light suddenly bathed the
room; Bradan had channeled to light the candle on his night table.

“I don’t need as much sleep as you
do,” he reminded Bradan.

“Aedan.”

One word and it was like they’d
shared an entire conversation. Sighing softly, Aedan sat up and shifted
sideways to lean back against the wall, mirroring Bradan’s position across the
room.

“They were my friends,” he
murmured.

A beat passed before Bradan said,
“The guards you killed in the Otherworld.”

Aedan didn’t try to hide his
wince. He’d become a vampire to be the best fighter he could be—the best
killer. He’d spent decades in the king’s guard, and killed whenever he needed
to in order to protect Rhuinn. But he’d never known his adversaries before, not
like he had known Dack and Sensh. The look on Sensh’s face, just before he had
crumbled to ashes, when Aedan had slid his knife home...

“I thought...” He sighed again. “I
don’t know. I always imagined there’d be a day when I’d quit the guard. Tell
everyone why. I didn’t expect the king to wake up one morning and decide he
wanted her brought to him. We didn’t even know he knew where she was. He never
told anyone, not even Ciara. Within ten minutes of him making up his mind,
she’d assembled a team and...” His throat tightened but he pushed the words out
anyway. “I wish I could have told them why I betrayed them.”

The only bright point in all of
this was that Ciara had remained behind. If she had come along, Aedan didn’t
know what he would have done. On the one hand, he couldn’t imagine killing her,
but on the other, he had sworn to protect Dame Vivien long before Ciara had
made him what he was.

“I’m sorry,” Bradan said.

Aedan inclined his head, and for a
moment they were silent. The candle flame wavered a little, but the ambient
light grew as the drapes failed to block sunlight completely.

“Is there anything else?” Bradan
asked at last, still very quiet, but his eyes suddenly a little sharper.

“Like what?”

“Like why you were so mad at her
last night?”

Before Aedan could suppress it,
anger flashed through him. Bradan would feel that, undoubtedly.

“She doesn’t know anything,” he
said, trying to control his emotions. “Not who she is, not what she was born to
do. She tried to escape from us and could have run straight into the king’s
hands.” He gritted his teeth. “And...”

He didn’t finish. He couldn’t
finish. At the time, it had seemed like anger was a perfectly appropriate
response, but now he realized he might have overreacted.

“And?” Bradan prompted, an eyebrow
raised questioningly.

“And she asked why I wasn’t using
the Quickening.”

Bradan’s lips twisted into an
unhappy smile. “You said it yourself. She doesn’t know. Why don’t you tell
her?”

Scoffing, Aedan slipped out of bed
and strode to the washing room on the side of the room, leaving the door open
behind him. He pumped water into the washing basin and threw over his shoulder,
“I don’t need her pity.”

A shiver ran down his spine, a
sure enough sign that Bradan was channeling; when Aedan dipped his hands in the
water, he wasn’t surprised to find that Bradan had warmed it.

“I don’t need yours, either,” he
muttered before splashing water over his face.

The second shiver wasn’t warning
enough for the sharp smack on his ass. He whirled around, glowering as he
strode back into the bedroom.

“Are you done feeling sorry for
yourself?” Bradan asked, standing there with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Or do you want me to kick some sense back into you?”

Baring his teeth, Aedan growled.
What was the expression from the Otherworld Bradan had taught to him?

Oh, yes.

“Bring it on.”

Bradan grinned.

* * * *

Vivien woke to the sound of
clashing metal. Images of the woods flashed through her mind, of the men Aedan
had killed—the men who would have taken her like they had taken Anabel. Her
heart jumped in her throat. Could those men be here now? Brad had said she was
safe, he had talked of shields protecting the house, but what if—

A laugh—two laughs, barely
distinguishable as they echoed with the same joy—tempered her growing worry.
She slipped out of bed and approached the window. When she drew the curtains
open, she had to blink several times to adjust to the brightness of the sky
beyond the glass. The window opened inward, and she had to lean against the
sill and look down to find the source of the laughter.

Down below, a small, enclosed
courtyard was bathed in shadows. By the end of the day, it would probably be in
full sunlight, but at the moment it was protected from the sun by the castle.
In the middle of the courtyard, Brad and Aedan were circling each other.

Brad held a sword, clutching the
hilt with both hands, while Aedan was fighting with his knives like he had in
the woods—which was how she knew who was who. Without those knives, she doubted
she would have been able to tell them apart. They both wore dark pants and were
both shirtless. Even from where she stood above them, Vivien could see the play
of muscles in their arms and back. When she shivered, it had nothing to do with
the temperature, already warm even although it was still early.

She let out a quiet gasp when
Aedan lunged forward, both knives slashing toward Brad. With a wide sweep of
his sword, Brad stopped both knives before they could get to him. The sound of
metal on metal was like bells; so was Brad’s laughter.

It suddenly struck Vivien that,
for all the months she had known Brad, she couldn’t remember ever hearing him
laugh. She’d seen him smile, she’d heard him chuckle, but he had never sounded
like this, carefree and simply...happy.

He said something to Aedan; Vivien
was too far to hear the words, but she heard Aedan’s reply: a quick bark of
laughter. Brad attacked next, taking two steps forward and swinging his sword
with his left hand; the right was gesturing at his side. For a second, not even
that long, he seemed to glow, bright colors emanating from him and extending
from his hand. Vivien blinked, and the colors disappeared, leaving behind a
second sword in Brad’s right hand.

She thought at first that it was
nothing more than an illusion, like the mist he had conjured in the house to
show Vivien what had happened to Anabel. But when he slashed with his right
hand, the sword met Aedan’s crossed knives with a loud clang. Not an illusion,
then.

She rested her arms on the sill,
leaned her chin on top of them, and looked down as they continued to fight, now
both of them with a blade in each hand. Part of her couldn’t help but be
afraid: two swords, two knives, and no armor that she could see; it was an
accident waiting to happen. At the same time, though, she wished she could have
joined their game. It had been a long time since she had held a blade, and, as
different as Brad’s broadsword was to the fencing gear Vivien knew, to see them
wield their weapons with such grace made her long to do the same.

And, after all, why not?

Stepping away from the window, she
went to the attached bathroom she had discovered the previous night and washed
up quickly before getting dressed in comfortable jeans, a t-shirt, and
sneakers.

After reaching the first floor,
she tried to orient herself in the long corridors. The courtyard was under her
window, and her room was halfway down on the left, so if she tried to find the
room directly underneath it... As she came closer, the sound of metal clanking
together became louder and louder, until, when she peeked through an open door,
she could see through an armory-like room and straight through wide doors
opening onto the courtyard.

She crossed the armory, throwing
only a cursory glance to the weapons and armor on the walls, and came to stand
on the threshold, half hidden behind the heavy wooden door. From her window,
she had been able to appreciate the speed with which Brad and Aedan fought as
well as their dexterity. Now that she was on their level, she could also see
the strength they put into each move.

It looked more like an actual
fight than a game, and if not for their smiles as they circled and launched
themselves at each other, Vivien would have worried even more about their
safety. They did offer her a very interesting display, however, and she
couldn’t tear her eyes off them.

Their muscles rippled with each
attack, counter, or sidestep. Similar rectangular pendants hung from chains
around their necks and bounced against their chests with their movements. Now
that she was closer, she could see that Aedan was a little paler than Brad; he
was almost like a living statue, marble defying all laws of nature to slide
into elegant motions. Across from him, Brad’s chest and back were covered in a light
sheen of perspiration that seemed to accentuate every hard muscle in his torso.
Vivien swallowed hard. She’d had glimpses of Brad’s body before when they ran
and his t-shirt clung to him with sweat, but the sight of him was even more
entrancing than she had expected.

Reminding herself forcefully that
he wasn’t interested in her, she tore her eyes from the fight and went in to
find a sword. From up close, they were even more different from what she knew
than she had first believed. A couple dozen blades rested on holders on the
wall, each a little different from the others. She looked for a narrow sword,
finally finding one with a large enough hand guard, though she grimaced at the
unfamiliar grip.

It was the closest thing on the
wall to a modern épée, but the weight of it when she lifted it off the holder
surprised her a little. She slashed the sword in front of her; it was heavier
than what she was used to, but not outrageously so. She was actually more
concerned about how sharp it was. She didn’t need to touch the edge of the
blade to see it was razor-sharp, the length as dangerous as the point.

She had to set the sword down
again to put on some armor. It took her a while to figure out how to arrange
and secure the metal plates. As she tightened the leather straps, she suddenly
missed her old fencing jacket. The thick cloth had been more comfortable than
this metal contraption—although it would have been of no use against a
broadsword such as the one she wanted to try wielding. The plates felt odd
against her chest and back, but at least they were less heavy than she had
expected.

With her sword in one hand and a
helmet under the other arm, she returned to the door and stepped out. She was
about to ask if she could join in when Aedan suddenly stilled in the middle of
an attack, his head whipping toward Vivien. How had he even noticed her when
she’d been behind him?

He sheathed his knives at once and
took that now familiar little bow. Across from him, Brad lowered his real
sword, while the one he had conjured from magic simply vanished when he opened
his hand.

“Good morning,” Brad said, while
Aedan intoned on a more formal tone, “Blessings, Dame Vivien.”

Vivien felt a jolt at hearing him
greet her with the word she had so often heard from Anabel’s lips, and she
could only stare at him. She had always thought Anabel was a little eccentric
in her choice of words; maybe not, after all. Vivien hoped she was okay...

Aedan approached her, gripped the
hilt of her sword above her hand, and tugged lightly. “These weapons are not
toys, Dame Vivien. You do not want to hurt yourself.”

She resisted his tugging, and
rather than letting him have the sword, she pulled away from him.

“I can tell the difference between
a weapon and a toy,” she said, throwing Aedan an annoyed look. “And I’m not the
one practicing without armor.”

Turning toward Brad, she offered
him a tentative smile. “It’s been a long time and it looks nothing like
fencing, but maybe you could show me? If we’re going to fight to get Anabel
back, I should probably learn to use one of these.”

And with any luck, some of her
fencing skills would transfer and she wouldn’t make a complete fool out of
herself. She wouldn’t mind it too much in front of Brad, but Aedan would
probably never let her hear the end of it.