Night's Templar: A Vampire Queen Novel (Vampire Queen Series Book 13) (6 page)

Uthe’s apprehensions on the subject were more aligned with Lyssa’s. For all that she loved her servant openly and deeply, she knew the vampire world was ruled by blood and power, far more than the human one, at least in the human societies which claimed to be civilized. Order and a known structure were extremely important in keeping the vampire world balanced, and the role of servants in that balance was critical. Otherwise, the world of the Trads would rule. Uthe knew exactly what that kind of world looked like. 

Trads, or Traditionalists, were an extremist splinter of the vampire world, though there was a certain romanticized regard for them by vampires like Belizar. Trads lived as pure predators, rejecting most of the technology and domestic comforts the human and vampire worlds both preferred. They viewed mortals as prey alone, with no rights accorded to their sentience or wellbeing. While Trads kept their kills fairly close to the maximum allowed, thirteen annually, Uthe suspected that was a common sense decision and a way to avoid the irritant of Council involvement in their lives, rather than any respect for Council laws.

When made vampires had staged a coup against the born vampires recently, some of the made who had fled justice had reputedly become Trads. Trads weren’t known for organizing in force. Mostly they wanted to be left alone by non-Trads. They were like rabid bears who never sickened and died. However, there was no telling what an infusion of made vampires in their ranks would do. There’d been more frequent reports of female vampires disappearing. Uthe, as well as other members of the Council, was concerned the mostly male Trad population was trying to reproduce, to increase their numbers and maintain their blood purity. Even that was rumor. Rumors were nigh impossible to substantiate in a world where vampires could disappear for long periods of time, for their own reasons and purposes. Usually it was only noted when a tithe for a Region Master or overlord wasn’t delivered on time. If that amount was small, it might not even be pursued.

He paused in a breezeway, lifting his face to the touch of the evening wind. The crickets were out in full harmony tonight. Servants’ rights, made vampires, Trads…there were so many things to resolve, but they were the usual kind of problems. It was easier to think on that than on the things that could spiral out of his control more quickly. Like his reaction to a Fae Lord. He shook his head at himself. Out of all the things that could cause him serious problems, that one should be at the bottom of the list. Instead, because of his preoccupation with the arrogant male, it slipped into his mind at the least provocation.

He sighed. He’d given his heart and passion to many things. To God, to battle, to protecting what was important to protect. Despite his wayward mind and suddenly overactive libido, he knew how to prioritize. He valued Keldwyn’s friendship, and within those boundaries was where he needed to keep it contained.

He’d had friendships he’d prized deeply. Like Daegan’s mother. She’d succumbed to Ennui, the one incurable disease that vampires faced. One dawn, she’d chosen to wander out of her room to meet the sun. Lord Brian, who headed up all scientific research involving vampires, had explained that Ennui could manifest itself in many ways, depending on the vampire. There were those who gave in to their impulse control like a rogue fledging, pursuing ever greater violence to assuage the raging pain that such loss of control caused inside them. Others, like Daegan’s mother, experienced an almost gentle slipping away of the mind, becoming ever more childlike. Vampires could experience symptoms all along that spectrum. The only common thing about Ennui was that it was more of a risk with advancing age, and seemed to connect to a loss of interest in life. Though Lord Brian, ever the practical scientist, had been quick to say that should not be assumed. It was still a chicken and egg question – did the Ennui incite the loss of interest, or did the loss of interest make the vampire more vulnerable to the condition?

The Council had protected and watched over Daegan’s mother until she embraced the sun, part of why Daegan gave them such loyalty now. Uthe had sat with her in the gardens at night, listening to her rambling talk of the flowers, of the stars, of an angel who visited her once and conceived a beautiful son upon her. No one knew who Daegan’s father was, and she’d never spoken of him before the Ennui, so an angel was as good a reference as any. Uthe supposed it was a vampire she didn’t want to be an active father for her son. It happened. Some vampires made good parents. Some shouldn’t be trusted with a dead bug collection.

Like his own father.

Shaking his head, Uthe shut down all the open topics in his head and started to work on those fifty-nine remaining paternosters. He should finish them in the time it took him to shower and arrive at Council chambers. They had a Fae Queen to meet tonight. He would need his mind fully locked in the present—and focused on anticipating any problems before they happened.

That was why he was Lyssa’s right hand, the role he would serve until God called him to answer the purpose he’d been waiting centuries to complete.

A missive is coming…

T
he Council meeting was swift
. Lyssa ran down a few details on Fae protocol, then Uthe returned to his quarters to clothe himself in a manner suitable to meet Queen Rhoswen and her retainers. Lyssa had said there was no vampire complement to the finery a Fae male would wear for a formal occasion, so black tie was the best option. Mariela helped him with the tie, which, to her amusement, still baffled him. She was already dressed, in a strapless chiffon dress of blue, teal and purple, with a floral rhinestone clasp at the hip. Her blonde hair was dressed in a chignon with a waterfall of blue sparkling stones dressing it. 

“You look quite beautiful, dearest. You are a credit to us, as always.”

She glowed as she arranged the tie. “I admit I’m nervous, my lord. You hear so many things about the Fae. Lord Keldwyn has tended to live up to those unsettling stories.”

“He is no different from the rest of us males. We pretend to be complex only to impress our sexual conquests, but under those trappings we are decidedly dull.”

“I believe he attempts to impress you quite often then, my lord.”

At his look of surprise, she lifted one smooth shoulder. “It is the way he looks at you when you are not looking at him.” She pressed her lips together as if she thought she’d said too much, but Uthe touched her face, lifted her chin. Since she was six feet tall, and tonight she wore three-inch heels, they were eye to eye. 

“Speak to me of your concerns, Mariela. I value your thoughts. You know this.”

“I do not know his motives, my lord. When he is near you, I am concerned for your wellbeing. It is as if he could simply make you disappear for his amusement.” 

“Well, he is Fae. But considering his queen and Lady Lyssa would like to see some advance in the relations between our two species, and I do believe he has that same wish, perhaps he’ll hold off. He’ll wait for a more expedient time to put me in a box, tap it with a wand and produce a rabbit.”

Her full, moist lips twisted. “I cannot tell what he wishes, beyond his desire for you. And I think desire to a Fae is no simple thing.”

“Desire rarely is a simple thing, for any of us.”

“Hmm.” She suddenly was very focused on the tie again. “My lord, I hope you know I would never allow my concerns to interfere with my service to you. Should you have an equal desire for him, and wish me to be part of what you want from one another, I will not shame you.”

“I would never think you would, even if you told me he repulsed you and you had to imagine someone far more handsome than either of us to get through it. Like…who was the actor in the movie you were watching the other day in the servants’ common room?”

“My lord.” She pushed at him. “A Council member should have far more weighty concerns than spying on servants.”

“Now my servant is chastising me.” He chuckled. “Another reason to punish her later. Right now, I would do nothing to muss your beauty. I will have that name from you then, though.”

She shook her head, her reserve returning as she completed the task of helping him dress. He enjoyed teasing her, but he could not indulge the easy informality like what was between Lyssa and Jacob, or other vampires who enjoyed greater intimacy with their servants.

He’d never considered that a burden, and he didn’t now, but it made him think about how often of late he woke up with a feeling as if he were bound in heavy chains. The sensation sometimes lingered throughout the night. Because of it, he prayed more, worked out harder, pushed himself further on Council duties. Which was what could have led to his slip earlier tonight, he mused, where Daegan had seen Uthe’s fighting skills were greater than most knew. He needed to figure out the right balance to restore his equilibrium, but the problem was the fulcrum of that seesaw was moving daily.

He could not give in to the fatigue. Or the fear of what it all meant. Too much remained to be done. One moment at a time. For tonight, Lady Lyssa and the Council were depending on him to be who he’d always been for them.

“My lord, did you review the mail I left on your desk today?”

He tuned back in to Mariela. She had a voice like a flute, haunting like a dove’s coo. It soothed. At times he allowed her to read him to sleep at dawn. Perhaps he’d do that tonight. “I didn’t realize I’d received any.”

Though many things were communicated electronically, correspondence requiring excess discretion was usually couriered. He searched his mind for what might have come from the Berlin office, but came up with nothing.

“It was just a postcard. I should have propped it up on your desk and made it more noticeable. I was going to throw it away, because it was from a tourist attraction.” Mariela grimaced. “Even vampires end up on marketing lists.”

“Evidence of the Devil at work, for certain.” Uthe shrugged into his coat.

“Hmm.” She smiled at him. “However, this card had a first class stamp and it’s handwritten in Arabic. It may be inconsequential, but…”

Mariela moved to his desk, her skirt flowing out from her like peacock feathers, the light in the room reflecting off her blonde hair. Picking up the single postcard, she brought it back to him. “Discover the Holy Land Experience” was in bright red letters on the front of the card, and layered over what looked like a map of the exhibits one could see there. It appeared to be a Florida tourist attraction. His brow creased. Solomon’s Treasures, the park’s gift shop, was circled with a black marker. When he flipped the postcard, there was only one handwritten line. In Arabic, as Mariela had said.

Your gift is ready!

It is ready.
He should know what that meant. It was the missive. Heat flushed through his body beneath the confines of the tuxedo, and a tremor went through his fingers. His mind strained, panicked, as the information eluded him. By the Holy Relics, this was important. So important.

“My lord?” Mariela was staring at him. “You have gotten…paler. Are you…”

“Leave me.” He spoke brusquely and turned away from her. “I will see you on the back lawn.”

“Yes, my lord.” He heard the hesitation in her voice, the worry, but she was ever-obedient, his beautiful Mariela. She closed the door behind him.

He stared at the card, passed his fingers over the writing. Damn it, damn it. Closing his eyes, he dropped to one knee by the bed and began to pray, fervently. But he was trying too hard, he knew it, and he could not open himself to God’s will. The information eluded him.

A
couple hours later
, he stood on the back lawn of the Savannah estate, facing the forest perimeter. He’d tucked the card into his jacket, hoping the proximity to his body might jog something loose, but right now this had to be his priority. Keldwyn had indicated the Fae Queen preferred to be met at the forest portal only by her half-sister and the Fae Lord. She and her entourage would then proceed to the house, which was why they were all assembled on the lawn, awaiting the Queen’s arrival so she could greet them formally there.

Jacob had accompanied Lyssa. Though Mason and others of the Council hadn’t been pleased by Lyssa meeting a Fae entourage so unprotected, it was a reminder that this was supposed to be a social visit, peacekeeping observed on all sides. Vampires were far too used to an evening ending in blood among their own kind, let alone a species with whom they’d had less than friendly relations since…ever.

At one time, the blood triggers for a vampire social event could have been anything from true insult to an idle desire for lethal sport. Considering their population was not large, intelligent vampires like Lyssa had realized channeling the energy into sexual play with servants at such meetings kept more vampires alive. The evening might still end in blood—just of the less fatal variety.

He thought of Keldwyn’s mouth so close to his own, the Fae Lord’s whispered words.
You frustrate me.

A shift in the assembled Council vampires and attendants brought his attention back to the forest edge. As the Fae court made their appearance, firelight flickering off their trappings, the line between past and present blurred. For an instant he was on a battlefield years ago, and horses were emerging over the ridge, the sun catching the glitter of weapons, helmets. It felt odd, not being on horseback, ready to meet them, waiting for the call to charge. 

It was not Saladin’s army. Nor Turkish raiders. He yanked himself back to the present, more forcefully this time. Only two of the entourage were on horseback, the Fae Queen and Lyssa. Jacob was leading her horse and another Fae male was leading the Queen’s. The man was clad in a light armor that molded to his broad-shouldered body, a sword at his hip. His dark hair shot with silver—actual silver, not gray—was pulled back in a braided queue, exposing an unexpected scar on his face. Apparently not all high Fae had the healing ability vampires had, making their beauty eternally flawless. This must be Cayden, captain of the Queen’s Guard. Lyssa had spoken favorably of him.

The Fae Queen was in a white and silver dress with streaks of blue. It shimmered like a combination of ice and water. Her white hair poured down her back past her hips. A dozen Fae accompanied them on foot, six men and six women, and they were garbed no less spectacularly. They looked exactly as the fables said. Uthe heard the Council members murmuring among themselves. Even Mariela allowed herself a quiet whisper to Jessica about the beauty of the two queens, side by side. Rhoswen was on a snow white stallion, Lyssa on a glossy black palfrey. The horses seemed to tolerate her unusually well, since horses were normally fractious around vampires. Mason was a rare exception, as he kept two Arabians at his South American estate.

Lyssa and her sister were speaking, Lyssa gesturing as if they were discussing the grounds. So far, so good. Everyone looked congenial. However, the sheer power emanating from the party was causing some uncomfortable glances and movement among the Council members.

“Is that all coming from the Fae Queen?” Belizar muttered, shifting to Uthe’s side.

“I expect so. It may be a simple show of strength, to remind us of our place.” He gave his former Council head a look without rancor. “Our current Council head has been known to do something similar at politic moments.”

Belizar snorted. “You ever keep a salt shaker on your person, my lord, so you can rub it into my open wounds.”

“I know how tough you are, my old friend. You do not hold onto such things in favor of the greater good. It is why I continue to have high regard for you, despite your stubborn unwillingness to see anyone’s point other than your own, unless it’s at the tip of a wooden stake.”

“Change of any kind is a critical decision for vampires. Proper incentive is necessary.”

Uthe hid a grin at that. It was always unexpected how well Belizar presented in a tux. His hot-blooded demeanor and muscular body mass suggested he’d be more at home in the long coat and tall fur hat of a Cossack. But with his shoulder length hair sleekly combed, he looked handsome, if not entirely approachable. Though he’d always been more warlike, Belizar had once excelled at the political maneuvering necessary to lead the Council. Even Lyssa had supported his appointment. Belizar had only embraced his less admirable leadership traits in the last few years, losing patience for political machinations and becoming far less tolerant of change.

Uthe wondered if Lyssa should have suggested Belizar and Gideon engage in a nice evening of poker and vodka together. But though Belizar got along well enough with Vincent, his current servant, he decidedly didn’t cross the traditional vampire-servant lines.

Though he’d been aware of his position in the entourage all along, Uthe only now allowed himself to shift his attention to Keldwyn, who was walking a few feet away from the Fae Queen’s mount. Uthe suspected it was a politically chosen, neutral position, for the Fae did not look shunned, and Rhoswen tossed a couple comments his way that seemed friendly. He responded with an amicable half-bow in response.

The Council members might be drawn to the beauty of the queens, the exotic newness of the other Fae, but it was Keldwyn who held Uthe’s gaze. The outfit he had chosen was less embellished than what he normally wore. While Uthe wondered why, he didn’t disapprove of the choice, for it only enhanced his physical attributes, no ruffles, embroidery or jewels distracting from them. His short white tunic was belted with a rust-colored sash over matching hose and black boots that stopped below the knee. He wore a gold ring, a simple band, on the middle finger of one hand. His hair was braided in two short plaits on either side, the slim pieces pinned back with a gold clasp, keeping the rest of his loose mane out of his face. It enhanced the precise cut of his features. Uthe pressed his lips together as his gaze drifted over the sensual mouth, held in a slight curve of polite interest that revealed nothing, yet intrigued one to the point of obsession.

He would have issued a prayer to control his thoughts, yet Keldwyn’s gaze shifted to him and the prayer that came to mind had little to do with control. The Fae’s smile disappeared. It was a personal acknowledgement to Uthe, one that swept heat through his body and reminded him of their last encounter. Sometimes he wished vampires didn’t heal so quickly. He might have liked to feel those bruises longer, the ones Keldwyn had inflicted when they tumbled down the stairs together.

He didn’t remove his gaze from the Fae Lord, not until Keldwyn’s own attention had to shift at something the Fae Queen said to him. Uthe managed that prayer then, and forced his gaze back to Lyssa.

She’d dismounted into Jacob’s arms. Rhoswen accepted the same help from her captain. Interesting. Uthe noted there was more there than guardsman and queen, if her lingering touch on his biceps and the heat under what was otherwise a respectful gaze on his part were any indication.

As the entourage came their way, Uthe began to move forward, drawing the other Council members with him. Cayden spoke a word to the horses. The animals turned, breaking into a trot to disappear back into the forest. It dispelled Uthe’s wonder about whether Jacob and Ingram had made provisions to stable horses. Lyssa’s servant and her majordomo were rarely caught unawares, so he was sure it had been considered.