Night's Templar: A Vampire Queen Novel (Vampire Queen Series Book 13) (15 page)

He kept his back to the Fae, turning over his words, trying to determine how best to handle them. Uthe had made the mistake he hadn’t made in decades. He’d started spending his free hours with one person rather than keeping himself isolated, secluded, mysterious. To make it worse, the person with whom he’d been keeping company was his mirror image. Both of them skilled advisors, valued for their ability to notice the smallest details. To know every piece on the chess board as thoroughly as possible.

Had his judgment declined so much? He didn’t like to think so, but the alternative was a big leap. Despite his concerns about Fae motives in general, his intuition had led him to one specific Fae whom he might be able to trust enough to let down his guard.

The struggle to find the right answers had turned him into a plank, the tension in his shoulders spreading to his whole body. He’d mastered a poker face long ago, yet there was no way to turn the current moment back to his advantage. On the surface, all he’d done was give oral sex to the Fae Lord. Beneath the surface, far more had happened. He’d left himself too open and had no defense that would be effective.

It didn’t matter. He didn’t want to discuss it, and there was nothing in their relationship that required it. Not yet.

When Keldwyn shifted, his footsteps indicating he was coming closer, Uthe stiffened further. “Please do not approach me right now,” he said.

“I would respect that, except your words do not match what I feel from you. Or for you.” The Fae’s fingertips whispered down Uthe’s back. His nerve endings followed the touch like wheat bending to a calming breeze. When Keldwyn reached the waistband of his jeans, he hooked his fingers there, giving the fabric a tug that Uthe felt against his taut abdomen. The Fae kept his hand there, lightly stroking his lower back, the rise of his ass just below the denim. “I will not betray your trust in this.”

“You compelling me to serve you sexually wasn’t a betrayal?”

“A Fae does not offer assistance freely. An exchange must occur for balance. Sex is something we want from each other, but you would not accept that without compulsion. So it seemed the most reasonable price to put on my assistance, a benefit to us both.”

Keldwyn’s other hand slid down Uthe’s arm, to the hand that he’d caught in the door. He exerted gentle pressure on the bruised area behind the knuckles, and Uthe realized he was ensuring Uthe hadn’t broken anything. It wouldn’t have mattered if he had. His bones could heal, in a way his mind no longer could. He shoved down the thought viciously.

“You have told me many times a Fae does not lie. I don’t disagree with that, but you are excessively clever in how you say things, and what you don’t say. This binding you impose is more than balance.”

“Yes. It may be. But it is the best truth for now.”

“Why?” Uthe turned then, faced him, making Keldwyn remove his touch. “Why can I trust you, my lord?”

That wasn’t the real question. Behind it were far darker things.
Do you realize, if I do trust you, how far that trust might have to go?
Over the past year, as he’d become sure of what was creeping upon him, he’d vacillated endlessly between denial and desperation, praying and struggling to understand the divine purpose to this. He would have removed himself from the Council the moment he was sure his judgments were becoming unsound, but until the past few days, extra careful diligence and review of all his decisions and advice had assured him that time had not yet come. Now the missive on the postcard had come, at the same time it was clear the disease was starting to accelerate. It meant he had to leave his Council post, as well as address the one task that remained undone. He might have called that divine timing, but the hastening of the Ennui conflicted with that reassurance. He could only proceed, though, and hope he wasn’t too late to do what he’d been charged to do.

That was duty, responsibility, his honor to his oath. Difficult but expected. Yet in the vulnerable and desolate dawn hour, or at the unguarded moment at twilight’s first waking, the personal side of it often took him unaware and swamped him. He’d relied on his own judgment for over a thousand years, trusting only himself, and now…

He’d read all of Lord Brian’s reports thoroughly. Ennui had a variety of symptoms. The milder form of it resulted in disorientation, loss of memory and self-control, a slow decomposition of the mind. Then there was the violent side of it. A total loss of impulse control, coupled to rage and overblown blood lust, manifesting in forms of sadism that even vampires would find horrifying. Each vampire experienced Ennui uniquely, some on the milder end of the spectrum, some on the bloodier side. But it all boiled down to loss of control.

All these centuries, he’d prayed as if he’d given up his will and destiny to the Lord. Yet every day, and in every prayer, it was a choice, and that choice meant everything. Losing that choice, having it taken away, there was nothing that could prepare him for that. Every time he saw evidence of the Ennui’s advancement, he had to fight down the sense of panic clawing at his throat. He’d faced every type of danger imaginable without flinching, and this made him want to curl in his bed, pull his blankets over his head and cower like a child. Which enraged him, but he couldn’t afford to let that rage take over. Control of baser emotions like anger, bloodlust and pride had been the core of the Rule, and he’d used those years of self-discipline to serve him well this past year. He would stake himself before he’d let that darker end of the disease have him.

When he focused on his duty, he could hold the despair at bay. But with Keldwyn offering the illusion of a safety net—for Uthe couldn’t trust that it was more than a mirage in the desert—that desperate feeling threatened to take him over. He couldn’t even reach for prayer right now. The only thing within reach seemed to be the male standing before him.

Keldwyn had remained silent. Or had he?
No. Don’t do that to yourself.
He was not so advanced in the disease that he’d forgotten something someone said to him only a minute ago. If he was at that point, he would have excused himself from Council responsibilities months ago.

“Why can I trust you, my lord?” Uthe repeated. “I require an answer.” He needed it, actually, and he needed it to be the right answer.

Keldwyn reclaimed Uthe’s injured hand, inspected and then brushed his mouth over it. Uthe curled his fingers into a fist, fighting the feelings the oddly gentle gesture caused. “My lord, I am going to punch you in the face.”

Keldwyn’s lips quirked, but then his expression sobered and he met Uthe’s gaze with dark eyes that held fires capable of warmth or burning. “Because you are bound to me by oath now, Lord Uthe. That means not only that I am responsible for your actions in the Fae world, but you are under my protection.”

Releasing Uthe’s hand, he moved back to the guest chair and dropped into it, one leg stretched out and one bent, his hand resting on a chair arm and his opposite shoulder hooked over the chair back. The casual pose, so like the one he took during their debates or chess matches, gave the moment a needed sense of normalcy. Uthe fished for another shirt in his closet, but Keldwyn shook his head. “Leave it off. I like the look of you this way.”

Uthe paused. “Does this binding command me beyond my sexual service to you, my lord?”

“No. But it is up to me to determine what falls under that category, does it not?” Keldwyn swept him with an appraising look, unsettling Uthe. Ridiculous, really, but when was the last time he’d given any thought to how a lover looked at his body? He kept himself fit as most vampires did, ready to fight. His musculature was lean and layered versus bulky and thick, but he had a solid, large bone structure that provided a decently broad chest and shoulders. He saw Keldwyn eyeing and unmistakably enjoying all of that. It irritated him, which drove back less manageable feelings. He wondered if that was Keldwyn’s intent, or if it was just a useful side effect.

"If you are worried others may have noticed the Ennui," Keldwyn said, "I do not believe anyone has. With the possible exception of Lady Lyssa, because her husband Rex had it.”

That should have startled Uthe, but he thought of the way Lyssa had looked at him. Her intensity when she’d told him she would care for him however was needed—if he returned. The heavy weight on his chest was a mix of gratitude and mortification, and deeper emotions that made him glad he’d kissed the hem of her skirt.

“It is a gradual, insidious kind of condition, is it not?” Keldwyn continued. “Moments of perfect clarity, and then abrupt loss of time and memory. Surges of impulse control problems, blood and sex, violence.”

“Yes.” He’d read Brian’s reports, then. Uthe took a seat in the chair across from him. He couldn’t bring himself to look as relaxed as Keldwyn, but he did his best, trying to steady himself in all the ways he knew from other unsettling situations. There’d been many of those over the years. Being a vampire and a Council member made violence and crisis inevitable. Though when it came from within instead of without, it required an entirely different skill set to appear calm and unruffled about it.

Keldwyn tilted his head, the lamplight glittering off the tattoo on his face. “I spoke to Lord Brian extensively about it, as part of my continuing education on the vampire world. He checked with Lady Lyssa to be certain how much he could say. Such caution speaks well of him.”

“He is mature far beyond his years. He will serve on Council himself one day.”

“He told me that the symptoms will present in different combinations and levels, depending on the vampire. Daegan Rei’s mother was beset by apathy and lethargy, one of the most peaceful experiences of the disease documented. No bloodlust or impulse issues. She seemed touched by an almost divine calmness until the very end.”

“Yes.” Uthe had helped with her care and protection, as he was sure Keldwyn knew. She hadn’t wanted Daegan to know her condition until it could no longer be concealed. Most vampire children did not stay in close contact with their parents after they matured, as demands and interests drew them apart, so it had not been difficult. Once Daegan had learned of it, though, he’d stayed close, sharing the responsibility for watching over her with Uthe as much as she’d allow. Unfortunately, he’d been away when she died, but it could not be helped.

The rumor on Council was that the confusion of the disease had probably made her think it was nightfall, and her servant had been unable to coax her in before the sun rose. Uthe thought it more likely that she had a moment of lucidity and ordered the servant to leave her be, to let her go. Or he’d had a moment of compassionate clarity and had known it was their time. She’d apparently lain down on a bed of flowers, her arms spread out like wings, because the ash had left an impression like an angel’s against the delicate foliage. Since a third mark’s life was linked to his vampire’s, her servant’s body was found curled at her feet.

“You loved her,” Keldwyn observed.

“I did. She was a friend. There are those who thought there was more between us.” Uthe lifted a shoulder.

“As I said, it has been easier for you to allow others to think a woman’s flesh is your preference.” Keldwyn shifted his leg so his ankle pressed against the side of Uthe’s foot. “Your mouth dispels that impression rather quickly. Did I not have to honor your need to complete your quest in a timely manner, I would have you on your knees several times a day, Lord Uthe.”

His loins tightened at the image, but Uthe said nothing. Keldwyn straightened and leaned forward, so his knees were within a few inches of Uthe’s. The Fae’s attention was on his face. “I would have you say it, Uthe. That you prefer a man’s touch.”

“Why?”

Keldwyn traced Uthe’s collarbone, hooking the chain of the Templar pendant he often wore. The medallion, worn from constant wear and age, had the raised imprint of two knights riding one horse on one side; the Dome of the Rock was on the reverse. Around the knights was engraved
sigillum militum
, the military seal, and around the Dome was
Christi de Templo
.

Keldwyn passed his fingers over the raised image without comment, going from there down Uthe’s chest, following his pectoral. Uthe drew in a breath as the Fae scraped a fingernail over his nipple, making Uthe want to shift in the chair. “Because I want to hear it from your lips while I am touching you. Because it makes me want you more.”

When he’d agreed to Keldwyn’s condition of sexual service, he’d known it would be a challenge to keep his reaction to such demands under his control, but he hadn’t expected it to be impossible. Sex was a pleasant, manageable activity for him. He’d forgotten it could be like this. Or perhaps it wasn’t a matter of forgetting. He’d never actually experienced anything as intense and strong as his reaction to the Fae’s demands.

“I prefer a man’s touch, my lord.” His voice had a hoarse quality. Keldwyn’s eyes darkened.

“Good, Lord Uthe. Next time I ask you a question about your desires, do not make me pry it out of you.” He sat back and picked up the thread of their conversation. The seesaw between emotional and physical turmoil was making it difficult for Uthe to find steady ground.

“There were those who thought Lady Lyssa’s mother had Ennui, including Lyssa herself, but Brian is not so sure. After Lyssa was old enough to care for herself, Masako withdrew from the vampire world. He has collected data that suggests she started falling into melancholy. She also experienced episodes of violence where she had to be restrained to prevent indiscriminate harm to other vampires or humans. All indications of Ennui, but Brian postulated that the manner in which Lyssa’s father died broke something within her, never repaired. Once she knew her daughter could handle life on her own, her emotions about that time of her life closed back in upon her and tore her to pieces. When she begged to embrace the sun, those caring for her permitted it. She did not go easily. She died weeping under its heat.”

Uthe rose and moved back to his desk. “I need to finish packing.”

Keldwyn’s gaze went to the chest. “You must have been sure I would secure the Queen’s permission.”