Night's Templar: A Vampire Queen Novel (Vampire Queen Series Book 13) (52 page)

“It is the nature of all humanoid species to explore beyond the boundaries of our world,” Lyssa said practically. “To seek new ways to learn, grow and progress. That will always bring growing pains, along with the potential for catastrophic consequences. Everyone in this room, with the exception of the lovely Catriona, has lived over a millennium. Even in our different worlds, the same pattern repeats itself, over and over. We stumble, we break, we remake ourselves. Yes, by opening up your world, even in a limited way, you may start the cycle once more. But what is the alternative?”

“Oh no. Do not raise the stagnation argument.” Rhoswen raised a hand. The Fae Queen, for all her beauty and the complexity of her wardrobe, did not wear any rings today, which increased the impact of her slim, unadorned hand, the expressive movements of her fingers. “There is plenty of opportunity for growth and change within our respective worlds, without ever having to cross the threshold of another. Plus, the Fae have a unique problem humans and vampires do not have.”

Keldwyn said nothing. He was listening until he saw the opening that would help him accomplish what he desired, or seeing if the others would come to the conclusion he thought best on their own. It was always the preferred option for an advisor. Uthe understood that was what Kel was doing without being in his mind, but seeing it directly in his head was intriguing. Given their odd power exchange dynamic, he was glad Kel hadn’t yet suggested Uthe block himself from being in the Fae Lord’s mind when he desired to be there, though Uthe would respect that request if ever it came. He liked mixing it up—reading things from Kel’s body language as he’d learned to do, but also having the new option of dipping into Kel’s mind to gain further scope. It was like walking side by side versus being in his embrace. Both had their advantages.

“This is not the first time we have debated the subject of free will and passage between our worlds,” Lyssa prompted. “But you have not isolated it to one primary concern before. What is this unique problem?”

Uthe could tell from Keldwyn’s impassive expression he already knew his Queen’s answer, but would prefer that she not share it. A personal preference Uthe understood when Rhoswen responded.

“You vampires have adapted in the human world, because you can. You are powerful and fast, but you are not intimately connected to what you call magic. Your connection to the earth is essential, as it is for all life, but you maintain a certain spiritual detachment, just as the humans do. You can indulge in the delights of progress and still have a decent lifespan and life quality, though it would be far enhanced—and the earth and its other life forms would suffer far less at your hands—if you could see and feel what we do.” When Rhoswen looked toward Tabor, the Seelie King picked up the thread, finishing the explanation for Lyssa.

“The difference between our species is that the Fae world could be ended utterly without that full spiritual connection. It was the lesson Rhoswen was trying to teach with Catriona.”

When the young Fae quivered, Uthe rubbed her shoulder, a reassurance and reminder of forbearance. But he also pinned Keldwyn with a glance.

So if you allow yourself to be banished, cut off from the Fae world, your life would be shortened.

You would not get rid of me that quickly. I would have a couple hundred years before I withered. Catriona managed for twenty years.

Thinking of Keldwyn’s exhaustion when he couldn’t nourish himself in the Shattered World, Uthe doubted that. And Catriona had been in a dormant, near comatose state. If he was understanding Rhoswen’s concern correctly, the earthly realm still had enough magic to sustain a Fae, but the Fae world had even deeper roots in that same energy flow.

He expected the Fae world provided the same thing to the Fae that an annual kill provided vampires. Without the full blood sacrifice of a human once a year, a vampire would weaken and starve, becoming catatonic. It would take a few years, just as Keldwyn described his own situation, but it was inevitable.

It was as Tabor and Lyssa had both implied. None of the humanoid species were as different as they thought themselves. The methods might differ, but the intent was the same.

However, Uthe knew that wasn’t what had Kel’s expression turning thoughtful now. He’d drawn the Fae Lord’s attention to the issue of the annual kill. For reasons even Lord Brian had yet to figure out, there were essential nutrients, a certain energy captured in the blood of that kill, a vampire had to have. Uthe had taken vampire and human lives in battle, but for a vampire of conscience, the annual kill was the hardest life to sacrifice. It had to be a human whose life had meaning and worth, whose heart was good. Perhaps it was easier for other vampires, who hadn’t had the beginnings he’d had, but he remembered all of his annual kills. Almost a thousand souls. He’d learned he could push it back, stretch a kill over two to three years without his weakness becoming obvious enough he’d be vulnerable to other vampires, but the years he’d been involved with the Templars or the Territory wars, he hadn’t had that luxury, full strength a vital necessity.

Keldwyn’s eyes were on him now, telling Uthe he was picking up on his thoughts. Uthe didn’t look away. The Fae Lord knew about the annual kill, but Uthe didn’t think he’d drawn a straight line from it to the male vampire he’d claimed as his own.
A vampire is not only a predator. We are a predator that must take innocent lives, at least once a year.
The words hurt, even as thoughts.
Over the years, the bodies pile up.

Rhoswen was speaking again, so Keldwyn turned away. His lack of response created a burning in his chest, but Uthe kept his expression unreadable. Keldwyn might be able to feel his reaction, but Uthe wouldn’t show it to others. It touched on Uthe’s fears about their relationship, however. The pleasures they found with one another might not stand the test of time. Even if Keldwyn chose to absent himself from Uthe when he took his annual kill, when Uthe returned to him, would he see Keldwyn’s revulsion in his mind? He wouldn’t be able to bear it. He’d been strong for over a thousand years, and he could continue to be strong about most things, even the Ennui, but loving someone created an inescapable vulnerably. It could crack shields beyond repair.

“Your humans have scientists dedicated to discovering survival options if the sun stopped shining, if the water sources dried up,” Rhoswen said. “The Fae cannot survive such conditions physically, but beyond that, they would have no desire to continue living without a direct link to our elements. Humans and vampires see the elements as tools, resources for them to strip and use. They are scavengers. They always have been, adapting and destroying to survive, with no understanding what truly living means.”

She paused, visibly steadying herself, but her voice was flat, her eyes cool now. “They’re also a virus, because the more time our young Fae spend in that world, the more they are infected with that kind of thinking.”

“Lest we make ourselves sound so much more enlightened than other humanoid species,” Tabor interjected dryly, “I’d like to point out that our respect for the elements may be greater, but not our respect for one another. We have had several rather horrific wars, during and just before my lifespan. Perhaps, my lady, if we came up with a strategy to be more proactive in our interactions with the humans, as we have started to do with the vampires, we might exchange more of the best parts of ourselves, instead of the worst?”

“You ask for miracles. And demonstrate naivety that experience should have drummed out of you,” Rhoswen said shortly. “No offense, my lord.”

Tabor’s smile was tight. “Your cynicism can bias you as much as my optimism, my lady. Keep that in mind. With respect.”

“Perhaps the challenge is to make slight differences with every cycle,” Lyssa said. “It might still come full circle, but it could become more of an upward spiral.” She glanced at Rhoswen. “Together we could make this work better by building on the past and making adjustments for the future. Respond not by shutting down, but by changing the rules of engagement. We value the counsel of Lord Uthe and Lord Keldwyn. Perhaps their example can give us ways to achieve that. You’ve noted vampires have learned how to live compatibly in the human side of our world. We are like humans, yes, but we are also not entirely unlike Fae, because our long lives and enhanced capabilities do set us apart from humans. Your youthful Fae are curious about that world. How could they not be? Instead of denying them, making it a forbidden treasure, we teach them better how to navigate it and create a better outcome. And we don’t react to every stumble as if the sky is falling and all must be changed.”

Rhoswen’s brow creased. “The sky falling?”

“It’s a story called Chicken Little. I’ll explain later.” Lyssa pushed past that. “I have a more illustrative example. My majordomo, Elijah Ingram, was a military man. He has several guns. When John, his grandson, was eight years old, he showed him how to load and unload them, took him to a gun safety course, and made sure he understood the dangers and uses of the weapons. A couple years later, John was visiting a friend. The friend took him into a closet where his father’s gun was, and was going to show it off to him. He knew nothing about gun use or safety, because his parents kept the weapon hidden from him and provided him no knowledge of it, which simply turned it into a mystery that could not be resisted. The child of course had figured out where they kept the gun and the passcode to the lockbox. The gun was loaded.”

Lyssa shook her head. “John took the gun away from his friend, unloaded it, showed him the proper use of it and warned him of all the dangers. Then they put it away and went to play video games. John told his grandfather about the incident when he came home. In short, to John, it was matter-of-fact, no big mystery, but a very real danger he understood enough to protect his friend.”

“Not all children are that mature.”

“Most can be, if they are encouraged to grow up at the proper rate. Parents have one purpose—to help their children grow into responsible adults who are ready to inherit the leadership and protection of our societies. Not to keep them eternal children, overly protected and so never able to make responsible choices on their own.” Lyssa softened. “I think you have reacted to the terrible things of the past, as we have, and not without good reason. The way through this lies somewhere in between our collective viewpoints. But when I am bogged down in a difficult decision, sometimes I find everything rests on one simple question.”

She met her sister’s ice blue eyes. “Do you truly want to lose Keldwyn’s counsel?”

Rhoswen’s lips pursed. “Do I have to answer that question with him standing there?”

“Whatever your answer, I will assume you abhor me as always, Your Majesty,” Kel responded.

Lyssa rose and approached the throne, sitting down on the narrow steps that bisected the waterfalls. She placed her hand on her sister’s ankle, tugging at it. Despite the conflicting emotions roiling in his gut, it was so much like a younger sister playfully badgering an older one, Uthe had to suppress a smile. The two queens had come far in a short time.

“We are currently examining a policy that grants further protections to our servants. It will not change the fundamental power structure of the relationship. A servant’s devotion must be tested with complete capitulation to the will of the vampire mistress or master. But abuses of such a gift will be addressed. The essential form and purpose of the relationship is maintained, but there is more breathing room to deal with that issue on a case by case basis. As we have done there, why not consider Keldwyn and Uthe a test case for this situation? They will not only be an example of the further cooperation we can achieve together but, between the two of them, they have the experience and knowledge to study their own situation and suggest ways to apply it to the broader picture.”

Lyssa glanced at Uthe. He didn’t disagree with her. He was just wondering if all the topics being raised in this audience might end his relationship with Keldwyn before it truly began. The Fae Lord’s mind was still silent to him, his focus on his queen. Uthe didn’t venture into his mind now. The same intuition that guided both him and Kel as advisors told him when it was appropriate to delve into the Fae Lord’s head, connect to his thoughts. That’s what he told himself, though a darker part of him wondered if he was keeping his distance because he didn’t want to have to suffer the pain of Keldwyn ordering him to do so.

Rhoswen shook her head. “I think no matter how we change the starting gate, it always ends up the same. King Tabor? You are uncharacteristically silent. Or are you more interested in the food and wine than the discussion?”

Tabor had propped a booted foot on the chair Lyssa had vacated and pushed his own back on two legs, a casual position that didn’t dilute the sharpness of his eyes. “You like to throw darts when you realize you’re changing your mind, my Queen. It is one of your many irresistible qualities.”

He brought the chair down to all four legs. “Free will is a great responsibility, but one I think we can manage. We’ve certainly handled worse. I support Keldwyn continuing as your liaison and mine, and to the Vampire Council. He would be sorely missed by my advisors and myself.”

“You would miss having him as part of your hunting parties,” Rhoswen said tartly. “Men are fairly the same across worlds.”

“Just another example of the qualities that connect us all,” Tabor rebounded.

“And the law about a Fae feeding a vampire, let alone being marked by one?”

Tabor shrugged. “We are not a democracy, Queen Rhoswen. Yes, we have our laws, but you have a certain amount of discretion to permit this relationship, especially if we deem it to be in the overall best interests of our people.”

“Your Majesties, Lady Lyssa?” Uthe stepped forward. “May I have your leave to speak?”

Now at last, Keldwyn turned toward him, met his gaze. While Uthe couldn’t read anything from his face, this wasn’t about the two of them now. Rhoswen waved a hand. “There is an abundance of hot air in the room. Please, feel free to add to it.”