Night's Templar: A Vampire Queen Novel (Vampire Queen Series Book 13) (16 page)

“I was confident you would do all that could be done, but that’s not why I’m packed. There is something I must do before I go to the Fae world. I can arrange to meet you back here when it is done.”

“I will go with you. There is nothing to hold me here right now.”

“That is not necessary, my lord.”

“But is there anything to prohibit you from having company? Other than your wish to be rid of me?”

Whereas the Fae claimed never to lie, vampires had no problem with it, generally. Unfortunately, lying to Keldwyn and getting away with it was as difficult as getting a lie past Uthe himself. Plus, Uthe found he didn’t want to lie to him about this.

“Nothing to prohibit you. But I see nothing to compel you. What you desire from me, you can get elsewhere easily enough during my absence and not have to endure this journey.”

He’d said something that displeased the Fae, because Keldwyn got that tight look around his jaw. “Do not presume to know the shape of what I desire from you, my lord,” he said. “But you are wrong. There is something to compel me. Your Lady Lyssa.”

Uthe’s gaze sharpened on him. “What do you mean?”

When Keldwyn turned his head, the leaf imprint on his cheek and temple enhanced the piercing quality of his expression. “Your Queen requested that I be with you throughout your charge, from beginning to end. She told me she would consider it a personal favor. It’s a risky boon for a Queen to offer a Fae, though I’m sure she’s well aware of the implications of it.”

Uthe left the desk to stand before Keldwyn, his expression cold. “You will not obligate Lady Lyssa to anything. I will take on the burden. She should not be beholden to you. She is too important to risk such a favor.”

“She is more important than your quest? You would risk owing me a favor rather than her, even if it jeopardizes what appears to be the reason for your existence?”

Uthe set his jaw. “Can a Fae have enough honor to tailor his favor so it does not risk something that could do great harm?”

Keldwyn’s gaze narrowed. “A vampire, questioning a Fae’s honor? Is that not like a sewer rat impugning the intentions of a—

“Pure bred poodle. With painted toenails and wearing a tiara?” Uthe swept his gaze over the Fae’s finery, ignoring how appealing it looked on him.

Keldwyn came to his feet. As he did, a cold wind blasted through Uthe, sharp enough it stole his senses, blinded him, though for no more than a blink. When he focused again, Keldwyn stood before him in the far plainer but frustratingly no less tempting garb he’d worn to meet the Queen, the plain white tunic open at the throat, the snug trousers and laced boots. The tattooing was gone, leaving his face chiseled as smooth stone, his hair pulled back in a sleek tail to emphasize the harsh expression.

“Your anger is misplaced, my lord.”

“Is it? How do you react to having your queen threatened?”

Keldwyn blinked. “I am no enemy to Lady Lyssa. I have never been her enemy. Favors form links, my lord. Those links often can be the only thing that keep us on the right path.”

“Then consider the one she offered you another link in my chain to you, my lord. Release her from it. Whatever you need, I will give, as long as—”

“It does not countermand God’s will. I know. I have an excellent memory.”

Keldwyn tried to conceal it, but as soon as the words left the Fae Lord’s mouth, Uthe caught his subtle flinch, the flash of regret. Despite the sudden tension between them and the uneasy quagmire within him, Uthe couldn’t help smiling. “It’s good that one of us does. That is the first time I’ve seen you put your foot in your mouth, my lord. Perhaps having your cock properly serviced diminishes your cleverness. I’ll have to remember that.”

Keldwyn harrumphed at that, took a seat again. “Those are the only symptoms you’ve yet experienced with any significance, correct? Disorientation and occasional lapses in memory?”

“And serious lapses in judgment in the company I keep,” Uthe muttered. From the corner of his eye he saw the male’s lips twitch. Uthe moved to the sink, stared down at the pink stain his blood had left. It was too much to hope that Keldwyn would let the subject go. “Were you here with me, the other night?” he asked before he could stop himself.

“I was.”

Uthe nodded, eyes back on his muted reflection. The relief that it hadn’t been a delusion wasn’t all because of his fear of the disease’s progress. It was just…relief. And he was far too content that Keldwyn was determined to accompany him on this first leg of his task. He had no reason to doubt that Keldwyn was serving Lyssa’s interests, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be serving his own Queen’s. He could have multiple reasons for staying so close to Uthe’s side. But Keldwyn looking after the Queen’s interests was honorable, what Uthe would expect of him. It was part of what he required of himself in his service to the Council and Lyssa, his own code of honor.

A Fae’s capricious nature might seem incompatible with the vampire idea of honor, but Uthe knew it wasn’t. He’d stepped on Kel’s honor now, just to confirm it. It was something he respected, even as he knew Keldwyn was capable of straddling multiple roles—ally, enemy, impediment, danger, risk…or necessary friend.

God guide us both. This is too important for me to fail because of a weakness of the flesh.
But it wasn’t Keldwyn’s flesh that compelled Uthe so much. If it was, this would be far easier.

“So, this task you must do first.” Keldwyn spoke at last and nodded to the chest. “Where are we going, Lord Uthe?”

Though the Fae Lord remained in his chair, the way he met Uthe’s gaze when Uthe turned to face him made him feel much closer. Uthe took a breath.

“Syria.”

A
private plane
was not a problem. Negotiating foreign air space and landing in the remote area that was their destination, even less so. Uthe had maintained the necessary contacts to open doors as needed.

He’d seen a couple of documentaries—what Lord Brian derisively called junk science—that speculated on the secrets the Templars might have kept to the present day. As with most conspiracy theories, the truth was further off the rails than they supposed, and far less dramatic than they hoped. While there were organizations like the Masons that publicly claimed ancestry with the Templars, those descended from the original Order led normal lives with no traceable connections to the Templars, in order to be useful when needed: an air traffic controller, a pilot. As well as a government official who, when the key phrase was used, would make the proper adjustments, no questions asked, to ensure Uthe could fly into the country unchallenged.

Once used, the phrase was changed for all. It was communicated to those who needed to know in a variety of ways. Carrier pigeon, coded correspondence, a cryptic telephone call couched as a wrong number. In the 1800s, Uthe had received such a code change from a young pickpocket with serious brown eyes and a face so burned he looked like he wore a mask. But his smile was happy and carefree, and he took the tip Uthe gave him with a grin before he disappeared into the crowd.

He suspected some of the descendants kept in closer contact with one another, working on more widespread efforts related to ancient Templar interests and influence, but he hadn’t been part of any of that since the Battle of Hattin. He’d merely maintained the necessary connections to serve the singular charge he’d been assigned by Hugh. Early on, when he’d optimistically believed the charge would be accomplished sooner rather than later, he’d wondered what he would do after the task was done, how he could continue to serve his oath. Now he didn’t have to worry about that, since his mind would not be reliable enough for anything by the time this was done. Well, amend that. God willing, it would wait until the task was done to become pea soup.

Not surprisingly, it was somewhat of a relief to have his second most closely guarded secret known by one other. It helped that Keldwyn had not remarked upon it further, nor treated Uthe any differently because of it. Rhoswen had only granted Uthe access to the Fae world for his official quest there, so he could not take advantage of the portals that Keldwyn could to make the trip from Savannah to Damascus. He and Keldwyn had parted ways at the Savannah portal, yet when Uthe stepped off the plane to make the connection to the private charter that would take them to their destination in Syria, Keldwyn was already waiting on him. Much like during Uthe’s morning sun ritual, it was as if he’d always been there, a step ahead, waiting.

The oath Uthe had made to him seemed to be creating the biggest change between them. The Fae Lord had demanded nothing further of him yet. However, the warmth of Keldwyn’s gaze upon their reunion showed he was enjoying the opportunity to look at Uthe as his sexual conquest. Even after they boarded the charter and took their seats across from one another, he felt the male’s close regard. Uthe closed his eyes to meditate, then pray for guidance. When he at last opened his eyes, he bit back a chuckle. Keldwyn had opened a tattered copy of
The Fellowship of the Ring
and was reading it. “Is that from Jacob’s personal library?”

“It is. He recommended I take the whole trilogy, since he indicated I would wish to know how the story turned out.”

“You’re so well read, I’m surprised you haven’t read it.”

“There are more stories to be read than days in an immortal lifespan.” Keldwyn shifted, bracing his foot on the edge of Uthe’s seat, between his spread knees. His attention followed a straight track from there to Uthe’s groin. “You are wearing the jeans again today. A different pair, but still black.” He slid his foot forward, braced the ball of it against Uthe’s testicles, a teasing pressure he increased, eyes tracking Uthe’s response to the discomfort. Uthe had to suppress the desire to push against him, rub, but he didn’t conceal his reaction well enough.

Keldwyn’s gaze increased its heat. “You enjoy some pain.”

Imagining how much further Keldwyn could go, Uthe suspected he might enjoy a lot of pain, but he had no intention of revealing that. Keldwyn cocked his head. “Did you scourge yourself, my lord? Inflict penance on yourself in the service of your Lord as the monks do?”

“Most penances like that were forbidden to Templars because we had to stay battle ready.”

“Interesting. Most would have said the Templars were exempt from the penances, not forbidden from indulging them. Did you crave the touch of the lash, Lord Uthe? The Lord’s punishment? Or simply…a Master’s punishment?”

Uthe ignored the electric sparks of sensation pinging his insides. The hardening of his cock was as much from Keldwyn’s words as the teasing pressure of his foot. “You are a Dominant, my lord. As a vampire, I understand your desires. I can meet them in accordance with my oath to you.”

Keldwyn’s knowing expression obliterated the calming effect of the prayer on Uthe’s mind. “A clever evasion. And I’ve no doubt you can.”

Keldwyn had been right about Uthe’s ability to control his response in the company of women. He enjoyed their bodies and the release, but being goaded by Keldwyn, kissed by him, produced an explosive sexual reaction impossible to conceal or contain. The secure walls around his mental celibacy hadn’t been challenged so decisively in some time.

He’d initially attributed his attraction to Keldwyn to weakness. He’d told himself it wasn’t Keldwyn specifically, but all the distractions and concerns he faced now that had made him vulnerable. Perhaps even the lowering of inhibitions that came with the Ennui were contributing to the problem. What worried him was not those theories, but how much he wanted them to be rationalizations, a lie he was telling himself. He wanted his absorption with Keldwyn to be unique to the Fae Lord and what temptations he offered Uthe.

Fortunately, the Fae wanted to change the subject. “In your story to Queen Rhoswen, it was Lord Reghan who saved you from the battlefield.”

“Yes.”

“What were your impressions of him? Did you spend much time in his company?”

“No. Only that meeting and one other, both necessarily brief. He was…charismatic. He said little, but what he did, had great import. Even with that brief exposure, I had the impression of many good things. Honesty, compassion, tolerance, a sense of vision that extended far beyond the world in which he lived. It was clear he was a formidable leader, but there was something…tragic about him.”

Uthe’s brow furrowed. Talking about it now, he’d remembered more than he expected, but then, Lord Reghan had been almost as unforgettable as the male across from him. “Queen Rhoswen looked at him as if he were the rising sun, but he struck me more like a sunset. All the dusk colors, the painting the sun leaves behind so that we long for its return.”

Looking up, he saw Keldwyn staring at him with a mostly incomprehensible expression, but Uthe registered one thing in it. Pain.

“You knew him.” He paused. Despite the absurdity of it, the jagged feeling in his chest was jealousy. Now he understood why the name had caught Keldwyn’s attention so effectively when Uthe met Rhoswen in the gardens. “You loved him.”

“He was my best friend.” Keldwyn’s voice was carefully modulated, almost wooden. “Before Magwel, Rhoswen’s mother, talked the Unseelie monarch at the time into having him killed.”

“So is that why you and she don’t get along?”

Keldwyn shook his head. “During one of our civil wars, Rhoswen herself killed Magwel.”

He hadn’t known that piece of the puzzle. Perhaps in deference to her sister, Lyssa had not shared that painful knowledge with the Council. Uthe thought of the Fae Queen’s expression, so cold and remote. Yet when he’d been on his knees to her, his head forced to her thigh because of the physical attack of the flashback, he’d felt the touch of her hand on his shoulder, an almost gentle reassurance. When he’d looked in her eyes, he thought he’d seen something familiar, something that connected them beyond their initial meeting. Now he knew what it was.

“Reghan was all those things you said, and more.”

The Fae spoke the words quietly, but they drew Uthe back to the present. Despite the curiosity such a loaded comment raised, Kel looked out the window, shutting down any further questions Uthe might have.

The pilot’s voice broke in over the intercom. “Sir, we’re about to land. May I have your assistance?”

It was a small plane, but spacious enough that the pilot could give them privacy behind a closed door. Uthe rose as Keldwyn removed his foot, leaving the lingering sense of firm pressure. The Fae Lord’s simmering glance said his mind wasn’t entirely on the troubled shadows of his past.

They were landing in the dark, which was why the pilot required his assistance. Standing behind him, Uthe used his night vision to guide the plane down to a safe strip of ground. It was one the pilot had used before, for similar reasons, but Uthe’s abilities verified nothing had wandered or fallen onto the faintly marked track of ground to cause the plane an issue. Once the plane bumped down and came to a halt, Uthe returned to the main cabin. Keldwyn was reading his book, or at least staring at the pages. Uthe left him to his thoughts, going to the partitioned area in the back to collect what he needed and change clothes. He wound a sash around the long, loose tunic, worn over light cotton pants, and tucked Rhoswen’s amulet and his scabbarded dagger into the sash. The tingle of energy from wearing the dagger on his person reminded him of the advance of the sun. It was not long until daybreak.

As he emerged, Keldwyn rose. He was empty-handed, but Uthe rarely saw the Fae carrying anything. He suspected Keldwyn could call weapons or supplies to hand with his magic. Uthe shouldered his pack. “We’ll help the pilot conceal the plane and then hike from here. He has a camouflage cover, but can you provide any additional warding to protect him and the plane?”

“Yes, I can do that.”

Uthe paused. “Are you well, my lord?”

Keldwyn seemed surprised that he’d asked. Uthe lifted a shoulder. “We have lived long enough to lose those we love far more than once. Repetition does not lessen the blow. If anything, like a hammer, it just drives the nail in deeper.”

The Fae Lord bowed, oddly formal. “I am well, Lord Uthe. I wish to leave this plane and the memories conjured here.” He managed a faint smile. “They are thick as clouds.”

He and Keldwyn helped the pilot pull the sand-colored plane in the shadow of an outcropping of rock. Any chrome on the plane had been painted, so it blended well. Keldwyn warded the plane and the pilot, despite the latter looking at the Fae like he’d cursed him to have ugly daughters and weak sons. But with those wards in place, hiding him and the plane from view, it was far less likely he would be at risk.

The pilot gave them a laconic farewell in Arabic and returned inside.

“How do we know he’ll be there when we come back?” Keldwyn asked.

“Because he serves the Templars with his life,” Uthe responded. “He has a week’s worth of food and water, but if all goes as it should, we should be back to the plane in three days. It is an overnight trek there.”

Keldwyn considered the rocky, barren terrain, dotted with scrub. In the pre-dawn hour, the hills were featureless craggy rises. “An overnight trip even at our usual speeds?”

“We must use a human pace. If I use vampire speed or you use your magic, we will arouse suspicion. We are being watched.”

Keldwyn was only a moment behind Uthe in noting it, but vampires had a stronger sense of smell. The Fae’s expression became cooler, more battle-ready. Uthe put a hand on his arm.

“Right now, it’s just mountain people. They will do us no harm if we observe proper etiquette. Stay aware, but do not look around for them, my lord,” he advised Keldwyn. “As long as we appear capable of defending ourselves and don’t deviate from our intent, we will not see them. That is preferable.”

“All right then.” Keldwyn considered. “So we can only move at a human pace, and we’ve left the most immediate cover you have, less than an hour before sunrise. Where shall we take shelter, Lord Uthe?”

“It will not be necessary, as long as I wear this.” Uthe put his hand on the dagger. “It allows me to be out in the sunlight like a human or Fae.”

Kel’s gaze lasered in on the object. “When you recounted your tale to Queen Rhoswen, I wondered if you still had it.”

“I do not know why Lord Reghan recovered it from the battlefield, but when I woke in your world, it was by my bedside. I’m grateful he did.”

“Let me see it, my lord. If I may.”

At Uthe’s look, Keldwyn snorted. “If I was going to kill you, I could think of other ways than holding your dagger away from you and watching you turn to ash.”

Uthe grinned and unsheathed the blade, placing it in Keldwyn’s palm. Keldwyn’s expression turned inward. “Peculiar. The magic is…old. Yet I hesitate to call it magic. It is something else.”

“Yes. Something else.”

Purity of intent. A shining soul. So rare in this world, and therefore short-lived.

“Well, if we are going to walk, you may entertain me with stories. Like how you acquired your magical dagger.”

“Anything to keep you from asking me ‘are we there yet?’ an endless number of times.” Uthe smirked at Keldwyn’s puzzled look. So there were some cultural references his companion did not know.

“Shall we go then?”

“In a moment.” Uthe knelt, facing the east, and bent his head in prayer. It mattered not where he was. Whenever he could, he started or ended his day with paternosters and prayers. He felt Keldwyn shift, coming closer to him.

“You should have determined the location of a nearby cave, in case the magic is not as potent as it once was.”

“There is one sixty yards to the northwest,” Uthe said. “But this kind of magic doesn’t dilute with time. Now hush, while I’m praying.”

He suppressed amusement at the Fae Lord’s affront at being shushed, but Keldwyn did fall silent. He didn’t move away, though, and Uthe sensed his readiness to help spirit him to the cave if needed. It touched him, though he could be giving it more weight than it was worth. The Fae enjoyed a good story, so Kel might save Uthe just for that potential. On another day, when there was no story to be told, he might not bother. There was never any telling what was going through his mind.