Night's Templar: A Vampire Queen Novel (Vampire Queen Series Book 13) (33 page)

“Yet though they were never intended to be that grand, they did in fact become that grand,” Keldwyn noted. “Remembered to this day.”

“Romanticized to this day,” Uthe responded dryly. “In truth, we lost more battles than we won, though it was not for lack of courage or zeal. When we learned how to protect the pilgrims’ financial resources through a credit system, we also became bankers, bankers who loaned money to kings. There are times I think Hugh’s dream was co-opted from the very beginning, by a Pope who turned us into archaeologists to find a fortune in gold. The support we bought with that gold was the first step to turn the Templars into something they were never intended to be.”

“An intriguing history lesson, my lord.” Keldwyn had rolled onto his back, too, one knee bent, the other long leg stretched out. He lifted his hand, and the Fae on Uthe’s arm took off like a flock, landing on Keldwyn’s fingers and forearm. “Yet not entirely what I seek to know. You left Rail, came to Jerusalem and became a Templar, all for one painful reason. A reason that doesn’t fit a lovely meadow, a unicorn and a picnic of mead and cakes.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Uthe waited a few more heartbeats, thinking it through. Kel didn’t say anything further, and Uthe suspected he wouldn’t push, but Uthe was getting closer to the point he would tell him what he’d told no one. He didn’t have to give him any explanation at all, but this inexplicable compulsion to leave his story in the mind of another was nudging him in that direction.

Base nature couldn’t be dispelled by prayer. Sometimes he’d wondered if the Templars had been an experiment to test that. Was it possible to combine higher spiritual aspirations with the human propensity for violence and come out with an outcome that served God? Warrior-monks. Killing in the name of God, but not like the First Crusaders. Those had been men in too much debt, those without enterprise, or felons escaping human justice under the Pope’s auspices. Templars killed in the name of God, but supposedly without the avarice for blood, no pleasure taken in the deaths.  

 
To God goes the glory.
Back then, he’d needed that peace so desperately. Yet his life, before during and since had always been a river of blood. First with the Templars, then the various brutal struggles between vampire factions that had ultimately led to the establishment of the Council. He’d fought over a hundred battles for reasons that blurred in his mind and overlapped.

“When you cannot believe in a larger purpose, sometimes the best you can do is believe in its reflection. Hugh’s piety fed my soul. There was something indescribable about his beliefs. They gave me a balance, a peace. I am vampire. I cannot be servile. I might die by the sword, but even violence can have a code, as the existence of the Vampire Council proves. He gave my savagery a nobility. In time, the service of it, the release of will to another that still allowed me to use my strength, my power, my bloodlust…it was freeing.”

“I do not wish to disturb unpleasant memories, Uthe,” Keldwyn said. Uthe heard nothing but sincere truth in the male’s words. “But it is important for me to know the reasons for your path, to help you, as we go forward. Particularly if you get to a point you can no longer offer me information as freely.”

He was right, it was logical. Yet it wasn’t only logic. “I have already reached a point I must trust you far more than I expected to do, my lord. At times it is unpleasant and uncomfortable, for I still do not know you well enough. An error could be easily made. Yet at no other point in my life has it been so important that I not err in the slightest.”

“Which is why having someone you can trust completely is essential. And instead, you have me.” Keldwyn’s expression was blank, revealing nothing. “Either I have been sent as an answer to your prayers, or a way to foil them. You overlook a third possibility, however.”

“What is that?”

“I could be neither agent of light nor darkness. I could just have nothing better to do with my time right now.”

Uthe huffed a half chuckle, earning a curve of Keldwyn’s distracting lips. “Not true, my lord. We have several debates pending on important Council policy changes. Endless hours in chambers, arguing minutiae with Helga and Carola. Thwarting Belizar and Stewart’s every attempt to scuttle anything that hints of change.”

“You make it sound so appealing. A missed opportunity. I’m sure the household staff would have served tasty snacks.” Keldwyn sobered. “You know I speak the truth. If I am to be your proper ally in this, I need all the information I can.”

“Perhaps it would be simpler if I thought that was the only reason you ask these things.”

Keldwyn’s expression was getting easier for him to read. There were small changes to the muscles around his eyes and along his jaw that intensified his expression, the potency of his gaze. What was also getting disturbingly predictable was Uthe’s response to that particular reaction. His pulse accelerated and his fangs lengthened, as if to a threat or blood-based pleasure. Which made him want to move, fight or fuck. Touch, taste or bite.

“Give me another question for now, my lord,” he said, more brusquely than intended, but it didn’t seem to dissuade Keldwyn.

Keldwyn didn’t speak immediately, his eyes fastened on Uthe’s face, but then he relented. “The battle of Hattin. Why did the Templars blindly follow Gerard into such a fruitless battle? He was a vain man clearly not serving the will of God. Did you so need to emulate your relationship with God on an earthly plane that you abandoned your judgment, the judgment that Lyssa prizes so highly and with good reason?"

"No," Uthe said. "And yes. We were trained to trust the Grand Master unconditionally with our welfare, believing he would never act against God’s will in favor of pride or ego."

"If you truly believed that, you were all suffering a fatal case of naivety."

"Soldiers have little choice but to follow orders. In time, we set that aside as a given. The ones in charge, even the ultimate purpose, become unimportant, because those are things we cannot control. We fought, because that was what we were charged to do. Our focus became loyalty to the code of battle and protecting the man at either side. That seems to be the way all wars go.”

Uthe sat up, linking his hands around his knee. “For those of us who stayed in the Holy Lands for any length of time, it was clear the best way to praise Jerusalem and all the gifts there was for it belong to all three peoples to whom it was important: Jews, Muslims and Christians, not just one of them. It was those Crusaders who stayed and raised families who learned to co-exist with the Muslims and Jews in ways that ironically would have brought peace—if not for leaders who felt differently, who thought the only way to honor their understanding of faith was to let one religion try to crush another through bloodshed. Who kept bringing their armies out of Europe, Mongolia, Egypt, Turkey and God knows where else.”

“You made your peace with it, yet there are still shadows in your eyes. There are demons you have not laid to rest.”

“As I now know well, a demon cannot be laid to rest, my lord. It’s not the nature of a demon. It can only be sent back to its cell to rage and plot its next escape.” Uthe shook his head. “The wisdom I have gained helped me provide useful advice to the Council and know the best ways to make that advice heard, at least some of the time. You serve the same role yourself. After so many years, everything you know and understands crowds in on you. You know things without actively knowing, because only in a peaceful, still acceptance does it make any sense. You find the answers in the utter quiet, a lack of action. You're a vessel, but instead of moving in the ocean, it moves through you and you stay, if not still, without destination.”

“A very peaceful outlook for a vampire.”

Uthe touched the braid running from Keldwyn’s temple, feeling the rough texture of the meadow grass amid the silk strands. "Whereas you question faith like the serpent in the desert."

Keldwyn’s eyes morphed into a snake’s, a slit pupil and vivid gold irises, the effect so real Uthe jerked back. The Fae blinked and the illusion disappeared. Keldwyn closed a hand on his wrist. “My apologies, Lord Uthe. It’s a form of glamor that comes easily to me. I was teasing you, in perhaps a grim way, but teasing nonetheless.”

Uthe nodded, but when he tried to ease himself out of Keldwyn’s grip, the Fae turned Uthe’s hand over to examine his palm. “How is it you have calluses?”

“The dagger, again. Because I practice with my sword regularly, then and now, the calluses remain.” Uthe tugged on his hand, managing to free it this time. “Forgive me, my lord, but it is time for me to take some blood. You said there would be a source for my use?”

“Of course.” Kel seemed to focus on something internally. A communication, for Della emerged from the wood, skipping along with the dragon floating above her.

“Della is of a sufficient size and age to give you nourishment. And yes, she is high functioning enough to make that decision. She donates her blood to the humans’ Red Cross. When Catriona asked if she would give you a similar amount of blood, she was more than willing. She has a generous heart.”

As she drew closer, Keldwyn waved a hand, drawing her attention the way he’d done to put Rand to sleep. When her eyes followed the graceful ripple of his fingertips, he spoke a word and the child came to a swaying stop, blinking dreamily. The dragon made a questioning noise, landing on a tree near her. “In this state, she will feel no pain,” Keldwyn explained.

“I don’t understand my lord.” Though Keldwyn had made his intentions clear, the constriction in Uthe’s gut refused to process it until Kel said it straight out.

“She will provide your meal, Lord Uthe.”

“
S
he is a child
,” Uthe said woodenly.

“She is a teenager, and old enough to give you a cup of blood without it causing a problem.”

Bring him to me, boy. Hold him down. Hate them grabbing onto me, their whiny little pleas. Shut him up. Now!

Uthe stood up and walked away. He faced a magnificent tree covered with purple blooms. While the trees in his world were alive, they didn’t reach down with branches like questing fingers and brush them over his shoulders as this one did. Risking it taking offense, he moved closer and pressed his forehead against the rough bark. Sensation. In the end, it was best to focus on sensation alone. Thought was where true pain lay.

Keldwyn was behind him. “If you had specific menu requirements, it would have been good to know them ahead of time.”

“She is a child. I cannot drink from a child.”

“I told you, it will not—”

“You’ve been among us long enough to know this." Uthe turned on the Fae. “While sex is not required when taking blood, I cannot set my lips to her throat without getting sexually aroused. I can block that so she would be unaware of it, even if she were not enchanted, but it still feels unclean to me. Wrong.”

“My lord.” Keldwyn drew Uthe’s attention to the empty mead goblet he held in one hand. Kel tapped the short dagger at his own belt with the other. “I am aware of that, which was why my intent was to do it this way, by drawing the blood and having you drink from the cup.”

It made logical sense. It was all logical, but the things that had been loosed in Uthe were incapable of being called back to rationality.

“I will not touch a child’s blood. You may make what you wish of that, play your mind games, but that is as it is, Lord Keldwyn. If you have nothing available, then I should be fine for the next couple days, or we can summon a second mark from the…”

Keldwyn reached toward him. “Varick, I—”

Uthe knocked his hand away. “How many fucking times must I tell you not to call me by that name? Do not speak it. Ever.” No matter that it held no memory of Uthe’s father when Keldwyn spoke it. Instead, the word possessed a seductive purr that made Uthe want him to say it over and over.

“There is more to this.”

“This quest and the right to fuck me don’t give you the right to every thought I have,” Uthe snapped. “Let her go. Free her. I cannot look upon her until you do.”

“All right. It is done. Will you look?”

“Not yet.” Uthe turned away and stared into the forest again. “Leave me alone. I need several moments to myself.” He should have said ‘respectfully,’ honoring the courtesies, but what had hold of him now was ugly, coarse. He prayed Keldwyn would heed him.

The Fae was a weighted force at his back, but at length, he withdrew. Uthe let out a breath as he heard him speak to Della in low tones. The girl giggled and chattered something at him. She ran off, her sneakered feet pattering over the grass. Uthe closed his eyes, seeing her precocious expression. But he couldn’t hold onto it. He knelt, began the 23
^rd
Psalm. It was an eternal comfort, though when he imagined lying down in green pastures, he saw bloody and torn sheep. Lambs. He’d wondered why they’d eventually called Jesus the Lamb of God, because nothing was as helpless as a lamb. But they’d crucified him, hadn’t they? Sacrificed him, proving the fragility of the man.

His message had endured, no matter how much it had been warped and twisted. Kindness, compassion, justice, balance. Mercy. They were universal truths, spoken by myriad godheads and the enlightened. Noble ideals, worthy of protecting. Though sometimes how often they were violated could destroy the heart beyond repair.

He rose, turned. Keldwyn was sitting a few feet away. When he spoke, his tone was casual, as if there’d been no conflict between them.

“The vampire you sired, the artist. He is quite close to one of our portals right now. One of my favorites, in the Tennessee mountains. Would he lend you his third mark servant for a feeding?”

“Yes. That would be acceptable, if we can reach Evan without delay to our journey.”

“It will cause no more delay than a feeding here, my lord. He is the one who hungers to visit the Fae world, is he not?”

“Yes. He has badgered me about my relationship with you, suggesting in not-so-subtle ways all the things I could do to get him a pass to see the Fae world. I told him it wasn’t an amusement park.”

Keldwyn’s lips quirked. “Rhoswen does not yet see the benefit of vampire tourism.”

Gratitude swept through Uthe at Kel’s dry humor. He also felt shame at his anger. Della and Catriona were playing again, dancing in a clasped hand circle through the meadow grass. Della was visibly clear of any enchantment, beyond the natural magic spun by a child’s happiness. The barbed feeling in his lower belly released, allowing him a deeper breath.

“I offended you, Lord Uthe,” Keldwyn said quietly. “It was not my intent.”

“I know. You are as clever as I am, my lord. There is no need to pretend ignorance out of courtesy. I struck out in anger at past demons. You have my apologies.”

Keldwyn leaned back on his elbows once more, his attention returning to the two girls. They waded into the stream, the unicorn high stepping behind them, her tail trailing through the sparkling water. As she bent her head to drink, the dragon landed on her rump. The mare shot him a warning look, then returned to her drinking. Uthe propped against the tree a few feet behind Keldwyn, watching the wind ripple the grass around him.

During the time he’d been dealing with his reaction to Della providing his meal, Uthe realized Kel had changed what he was wearing. He remembered Keldwyn’s reaction to seeing him in jeans, but Uthe couldn’t imagine that he made the same impression in casual wear as Keldwyn did in a simple sleeveless jerkin, tight brown leggings and boots, a warrior’s garb that matched his now plaited hair. The Fae Lord looked even more dangerously appealing, if that were possible. The jerkin drew the eye to the point of the Fae’s shoulder, the smooth curve of his biceps. He tilted his head, the pointed ear dipping as he glanced back at Uthe, then he returned his dark gaze to the girls. Uthe swallowed.

“Do you have children of your own, my lord?” he ventured. This pregnant silence wasn’t something he wanted to prolong. Large things waited in such a silence, truths best not faced.

“Catriona is my child. Not by blood, but her father has ever been disinterested in her wellbeing. Her mother loved her, but died too young, only a few years after her birth. Her father pushed her out of the nest as soon as he felt she could fly on her own, which was according to his convenience, not her needs.”

Uthe shifted his gaze to the Fae female. She was using her wings to lift herself over the water, flicking water at Della with her toes. Della was splashing back, calling “no fair.” Catriona swooped, caught the teenager in her arms and spun the two of them in wild circles in the air. The dragon dove around them in excitement. The unicorn settled on the bank, legs folded beneath her, and dipped her head to scratch her horn on a rock.

Catriona was laughing, and there was a light in her face that Uthe thought should never be extinguished, that could never be extinguished.

“Her father does not realize what a gift he denied himself. Or gave to you.”

“Yes. She had trouble readjusting after her ordeal in the human world. Della helped her find her way back.” At Uthe’s puzzled look, Keldwyn frowned. “Lyssa did not tell you of this?”

“You have come up in conversation, my lord. Never your ward. Lyssa and I…we are close, but not in the manner of casual conversation, like you and I share.”

Keldwyn inclined his head. “I was not sure how much Lyssa told you. She gained entry to our world by rescuing Catriona from yours. She’d been trapped in a tree for twenty years, because she went too deeply into an urban area that saps a young Fae’s strength, and she was being chased by criminals. She saved herself by locking herself into a tree, as a dryad can do, but she did not have the strength to free herself. Nor could any of us free her, until Lady Lyssa…the details are not important now. It is done and over, and she is back here.”

Keldwyn glanced at Uthe. “Though passage is limited between our worlds, Catriona’s mother was permitted occasional excursions there. She had a great fondness for your world, which she passed on to her daughter. She was killed by two vampires. I will not go into details here, but it was based in the long enmity between our species.”

Uthe grimaced. “It surprises me that Catriona would be so welcoming. Or interested enough in our world to go there at all.”

“I think her mother’s life, short though it was, made a stronger impression than the circumstances of her death. Catriona was very young then. However, she has not been as successful in overcoming the trials of the past twenty years.” Keldwyn’s voice held his concern for his ward. “Before she was imprisoned, Catriona would have given her heart wherever it is needed, and never think of any danger to herself. She is more cautious now, a little sadder and wiser than she once was. I am glad for the wisdom, not for the sadness. There are times I miss her carefree recklessness, though I know she is safer without its impulsiveness.”

Uthe felt a surge of anger, thinking of the young Fae trapped as Keldwyn described. “Could no one do anything to rescue her before twenty years had passed?”

“I was magic-bound, specifically prohibited from helping or being anywhere near her, though I kept as close a watch on her as the field around her permitted. The Queen was teaching a lesson to our other young, and Catriona was the example. Though I do understand Rhoswen’s motives and knew it was not a simple decision for her, it made for an uneasy twenty years between us. I think her willingness to give Catriona access to Della was a way of balancing the scales.”

“Did it?”

“The scales between me and the Queen have gone up and down so often it wearies me to keep track of who is seated where, and whose turn it is to be on top and whose it is to hold anchor at the bottom. Catriona is back, she is safe, she is wiser and she is not irreparably broken. We live a long, long time, Lord Uthe. Often that is all that is necessary for things to be forgiven, if not forgotten. Life goes on, with all its priorities.”

“Yes.” Uthe cocked his head. “Do you have blood-related children?”

“I have had seven,” Keldwyn said absently. “Four males, three females.”

“Really?” Uthe was intrigued enough to leave the tree and sink cross-legged in the grass next to him. “Seven mothers? Wives?”

Keldwyn shot him an amused look. “While we don’t suffer from fertility issues to the extent vampires do, high Fae do not reproduce frequently. Because of that, like vampires, we do not use birth control. Every child produced is a gift. If a parent like Catriona’s father is not cognizant of that, there are plenty willing to step in to take in a babe. Maysie would have raised her in a heartbeat if I could not. In my case, the five women in question, for two bore twins, were not mated to me. They were affectionate yet casual couplings. And they were good mothers. They loved my children and I…loved them.”

The truth of it jolted Uthe. “They’re gone.”

Keldwyn’s expression emptied, the black gaze an abyss that Uthe thought might reflect the deepest well of the male’s soul. “They did not have your longevity?” Uthe ventured, his voice low. He didn’t want to ripple those depths if Kel didn’t wish them disturbed.

“The twins might have lived to my age, because they were born of high Fae mothers. The others…they would not have lived as long, but they would have had a few hundred years. War took all of them. My first two sons died at my side in battle, one of the conflicts within factions of the Seelie Fae. Then there was the Great War between the Unseelie and Seelie, prompted by King Tabor’s brother and Rhoswen’s mother. That one took one daughter, one son. Graenad fought like a dancer, such grace and beauty in wielding sword and magic. But it could not save her.”

Keldwyn kept his gaze on Catriona. “Like the humans and their WWI, we supposed that war would end all of them, because it was so horrific, but the one thing that links all humanoid species is our hunger for conflict. We had a usurper to the throne of the Seelie, and once again a civil war resulted that divided the Fae. I fought on the opposite side from my remaining three children. All three were killed, their cause defeated. I was able to see my last surviving daughter before she succumbed. She spat on me, cursed me as a traitor. And died.”

His melodious voice didn’t falter in the telling, yet when Keldwyn fell silent, Uthe could hear the discordant keys and notes of a broken song in the absence of words. He remembered the bitterness in Kel’s voice on the plane. He’d attributed any dark corners in Kel’s personality to the conflict and loss of Reghan, but that was far too narrow of a view. Tragedy and loss wasn’t a singular occurrence in a mortal life, let alone an immortal one. And to lose seven children…

Uthe shifted, his side brushing the Fae Lord’s tense shoulder. They sat that way for some time without speaking.

"Until this journey began, you did not ask me much about myself,” Keldwyn said suddenly. “You asked me about my world, my relationship with the courts, all the things it is good and prudent for a Council member to know about the Fae liaison."

 "You’ve placed a binding on me that’s personal. Perhaps it’s my way of evening the playing field."

"You told me I may have your body, that it is just ashes and dust. You deliberately indicated it wasn't personal."

"So I did."

"I could make you acknowledge differently."

"I think I just did that myself, my lord." Uthe met his gaze. Keldwyn's flickered, and then he sat up, propping himself on one arm. When he leaned toward Uthe, Uthe tensed. Keldwyn paused.

"A male brave enough to risk incineration to save a squire cannot fear a kiss made with open heart and clear eyes."

"Nothing is more personal or unpredictable as fear, my lord."

"Perhaps that is why I feel a need to challenge it now. To show you this is nothing to fear." But Keldwyn held still. "What is your greatest fear, Lord Uthe?"