Bodyguards (16 page)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The Messenger

When they entered the round room,
for a second Vivien wondered if her memory was playing tricks on her. When she
had arrived in this place with Brad, the walls had been gray, with designs of
black stones inlaid around the room. Now, though, everything seemed lighter,
the walls a bright white and the designs a deep gray. More light was entering
the room from the slits at the top of the walls but it couldn’t account for
such a drastic change, could it?

But when she looked at the walls,
a wave of light circled the room twice while the same two, deep notes echoed
again, louder now like a gong hung directly above them.

The familiar sword of light
appeared in Brad’s hand. Aedan stepped forward to stand by his side in front of
Vivien, and he too was clutching his weapons.

“No,” Vivien protested, pushing at
their shoulders. “I won’t hide.”

Aedan turned his face to her,
though his body did not budge. “You are not hiding. You are standing behind a
shield.” His eyes flashed, and his tone deepened as he added, “My oath doesn’t
require me to obey you when you are unreasonable about your own safety. If you
won’t stay behind us, I will take you back to Anabel and see what your nanny
thinks of you acting like a child.”

The idea of getting Anabel
involved was more sobering than the threat of Aedan removing her from the
situation—again. She gave one sharp nod, and Brad, who had been observing them,
seemed to relax for an instant before he looked away and his body turned rigid.
Vivien could see colors swirling around his body, shooting away from the sword
and toward the center of the room. They coalesced into a glowing bubble, and
the shimmering image of a black-clad woman appeared at its center. She was
staring straight ahead, to the right of them, like she couldn’t see them.

“I bear a message from King Rhuinn
Ni Saehuin for Vivien Te Celden. In the name of the king, I demand safe passage
and promise no harm in return.”

Brad glanced at Aedan. “That’s—”

“Let her through,” Aedan cut in
quietly. “And release your sword.”

He took his own advice and
sheathed his knives, although Vivien noticed that his right hand didn’t let go
of the hilt, nor did he move one inch away from Brad where he might have
exposed Vivien. As things were, she could barely see over their shoulders as
they pressed against each other.

Another burst of swirling colors
rushed from Brad toward the center of the room. A doorway of light appeared,
and the same woman who had spoken stepped through it. Vivien recognized her
then; it was the woman whom Aedan had battled the previous night.

Tall and lean, with her light
brown hair cut short and her uniform similar to the clothes Brad and Aedan
wore, she would have looked like a man if not for the delicate femininity of
her face and her curves. Her eyes were the same color as the silver hilts of
her knives. Her gaze focused on Vivien at once, ignoring the two men as though
they weren’t there.

“Blessings, Vivien Te Celden. I am
Ciara Oryonis, second in command to King Rhuinn’s guards, leader of the Oryonis
clan.”

She emphasized that last part as
though it should have meant something to Vivien. It didn’t, none of it did, but
she supposed courtesy couldn’t hurt.

“Blessings, Ciara Oryonis.”

She struggled a little on the
unfamiliar name, and Ciara’s eyebrows twitched toward a frown before smoothing
out again. In front of Vivien, Aedan shifted minutely. Vivien hurried on,
hoping to cover her hesitation.

“You said you have a message for
me. I’m listening.”

Ciara clasped her hands behind
her, and intoned in an even more formal tone, if that was possible, “King
Rhuinn Ni Saehuin, ruler and protector of Foh’Ran, defender of the Quickening,
summons Vivien Te Celden for a private audience tomorrow at noon.”

Even before Aedan gave a tiny
shake of his head, the bad feeling in the pit of Vivien’s stomach was telling
her this couldn’t possibly be any good.

“Our dame declines a private
audience,” Aedan said, sounding just as formal as Ciara. “She will come to the
king in front of the high families.”

“If she is your dame,” Ciara shot,
for the first time looking at Aedan directly, “how dare you speak for her?”

Aedan turned his head sideways so
that he’d see Vivien without looking completely away from Ciara. “Dame Vivien,”
he said in an urgent, low voice, “I know the court. I know the king. I beg you,
please ask for a public audience.”

Until that moment, every time
Aedan had tried to tell her what to do, he only irritated Vivien. This time,
though, she could see how worried he was—no, not just worried. He was scared.
Scared for her. Scared that even giving his life for her might not be enough to
save her.

“I decline a private audience,”
she said, trying to remember what words Aedan had used. “I will come but only
in front of the families.”

Who the families were, Vivien had
no idea, but if Aedan thought they would keep her safe, it was enough for her.

Ciara’s neutral expression seemed
about to crack into a smile, but she remained stone-faced. “I will transmit
your request to the king. Maybe it will suit him better this way, too. An
audience is needed for formal occasions, such as a judgment.”

She inclined her head in what
could have just barely passed for a bow, pretending deference when her words,
yet again, sounded like a threat.

“I have another message,” she
said. “This one for Aedan Oryonis from his clan leader. With your permission,
Vivien Te Celden, I would speak to him in private.”

Vivien made the connection right away.
That clan leader was Ciara herself. What did she want to tell Aedan? Chastise
him again for talking for Vivien? For fighting for her? Whatever it was, Vivien
felt oddly protective of him. If anyone had a right to dress him down, it was
her, and no one else.

“You do not have my permission,”
she said, holding back the urge to stick her tongue out at the woman. “If you
have something to say, say it now, then leave. You said you had a message from
the king, and you’ve already delivered it.”

Aedan half turned to Vivien again,
but said nothing. After a few seconds, Ciara spoke in an icy voice, her focus
entirely on Aedan like it had been on Vivien moments earlier.

“You betrayed your clan,
Bloodchild. Your clan, and your king. You know the penalty for that.”

As deeply as the threat rang in
her words, Aedan did not react to it. Brad, on the other hand, shifted for the
first time as though uncomfortable.

“I betrayed neither,” Aedan said
calmly. “The oath I swore to the king and the one I swore to you came long after
another oath that trumps them both. I joined the QuickSilver guard when I was
eleven. It never came into conflict with my other oaths until the king sent me
to the Otherworld. When he did, I had no choice.”

Ciara looked at him thoughtfully.
Her fingers tapped along the hilt of her knife like she wanted to draw it.
“Either you lied to your Maker,” she said slowly, “or you kept secrets from
her. Either way, I will have your blood. Unless the king gets to it first.”

Vivien didn’t like at all the way
Aedan bowed his head, as though accepting her judgment. Before she could say a
word, however, Ciara gave that small bow again, offered a formal, “Blessings,
Vivien Te Celden. Until noon tomorrow,” then turned and passed through the door
of light that had remained open at her back. It winked out of existence, and
immediately Brad and Aedan relaxed and glanced at each other.

“That’s not good,” Brad said
quietly.

“It could be worse,” Aedan
countered. “At least there’ll be witnesses. He won’t be able to just make her
disappear.”

Vivien didn’t want to hear another
word. “I’m not going,” she said, drawing both their gazes to her. They
reflected the same shock.

“It’s a summons from the king,”
Brad said. “You don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, I do. You’re going to take
me back to Earth, and I’m going to stay there, just like Anabel said. This
isn’t my world. This guy isn’t my king. I want to go home.”

* * * *

Vivien turned on her heel on the
last word and strode out of the room as though the discussion were over. Bradan
looked at Aedan, and found the same shock on his face that Bradan felt. She
didn’t understand, did she? Bradan had tried to explain to her, but he must
have failed. The Vivien he knew—the Vivien he loved—wouldn’t run away and leave
an entire world to fend for itself when she could do so much good...would she?

“If she doesn’t go to the king,”
Aedan said urgently, “he’ll stop being subtle. So far he only sent a couple
teams at a time, with orders to get her to him unharmed. If she ignores a
summons, it’ll be the entire guard with a kill order. She won’t listen to me,
but you have to talk to her.”

Bradan nodded once and hurried
after Vivien. He caught up with her in the kitchen. She had found a metal tray
somewhere and was arranging food on it: a plate with two slices of bread and
some ferbec and fruit, and as he watched, she pumped water into a goblet.

“Vivien—”

“I’m bringing some food to Ana,”
she said without looking at him. “I’ll pack up while she eats, and then you can
take us back.”

Bradan passed a hand through his
hair. Where should he even start? Her little fantasy might be comforting to
her, but it wouldn’t work, not in any way Bradan could see.

“We need you here,” he tried.
“You’re the only one who can challenge Rhuinn for the throne—”

She set the goblet down on the
tray with such force that water sloshed over the edges.

“But I don’t want the throne,” she
said, her voice shaking with intensity. Her eyes had rarely seemed so dark.
“I’m just a girl, and whatever you say, this place—this world—isn’t my home.
Why would I want to go against some king?”

“Because he stole what was yours
by birthright?” Bradan tried.

Vivien shrugged and picked up the
tray. “I don’t believe in monarchy,” she said, “or that anyone has a right to
rule because they were born to the right family. You can’t force me to want
that throne.”

Bradan stood in her way and took
hold of the tray, his fingers brushing against hers. She raised her chin and
held on to the tray, her eyes daring him to forcibly take it from her. He
didn’t. Instead, he said in the gentlest voice he possessed, “Anabel doesn’t
need food. Her body is shutting down. She’s dying.”

Vivien’s grip on the tray
slackened, and had Bradan not been holding it too, the plate and goblet would
have tumbled to the floor. Tugging lightly, he pulled the tray from her and set
it back on the table. He tried to ignore the shimmer of tears in her gaze and
her quiet, “But you healed her.” Both broke his heart, but he had to make her
understand.

“She’s dying because the man who
stole your throne doesn’t care about anyone but himself. He arrests or kills
anyone who so much as contradicts him. He’s been forcing people into an army,
and only the Quickening knows who he intends to attack with it. Maybe the
elves, up north. They can’t channel, but they are fierce fighters. Maybe the
aurgerds beyond the mountains. We’ve been at peace with them for hundreds of
years, but to people like Rhuinn, they are little more than animals. Maybe he
wants to conquer his way into the Otherworld. Foh’Ran used to have a territory
there in times past, and to some, it was a sign of our grandeur. Whatever he
plans, people will die. You’re the only one who can stop him.”

Vivien shook her head weakly. “But
I can’t! I don’t know anything about this place. I can barely channel. I’ve got
two bodyguards against his army. What good would it make for me to stand
against him?”

Raising his hand in a slow gesture
so he wouldn’t startle her, Bradan stroked her arm. “Right now you have the two
of us. But as soon as people learn that you are back, they will rally behind
you because you are the true heir. When he took the throne, Rhuinn was only a
regent, reigning in your stead until you were of age. Why do you think he’s
suddenly so interested in you? You’ll be twenty in just over two weeks. The
throne will be yours then, whether he acknowledges it or not. You will have
support.”

For a moment, he thought he had
reached through to her. While earlier she had exuded determination as she spoke
of leaving, now she appeared to be wavering. He waited, holding his breath, as
she turned the ring on her thumb in that nervous habit of hers.

“If you take me home,” she said in
a low voice, her eyes pleading as she covered his hand with hers, “then we
could be together. There wouldn’t be a dame or a guard anymore. Just us. And
someone else would rise to challenge Rhuinn.”

Temptation rang through each of
her words, too hard to ignore after Anabel had raised the same possibility
earlier. This time, though, Aedan was close enough to hear, and the flash of
distress that came through the bond sobered Bradan.

“I can’t,” he said with what he
hoped looked like a smile rather than a grimace. “If you won’t be who you are,
then what is my oath worth?”

“But you love me,” she protested.
“You said so. It’s not just your oath.”

“I do love you.”

His hand slid up to cup her face,
like he had earlier. More than ever, he was glad they had been interrupted. It
would only have complicated everything if they had made love. His heart was
already telling him to follow a path he knew wasn’t right; if they’d been
together, he’d have been unable to even give this token resistance.

“But I love Foh’Ran, too. I love
my brother. I’ve spent years away from both, waiting for you to be ready to
come back. Please don’t ask me to choose now.”