Chapter II. What We Were
II
WHAT WE WERE
“There is a darkness in my love.
“When my Wulfric is with me, I feel as if there is no one else under heaven. Lying in his arms, I fear my heart will burst. But sometimes I find him staring at me with such sorrow in his eyes, it cleaves my very soul. And sometimes when he loves me, afterward he cries.
“My Wulfric tells me I have saved him and all the world, but he will not say from what.
He speaks of vows broken and duty abandoned, and he asks if I think he is a good man.
I tell him that I could not give him my heart if it were otherwise.
But then he looks north, across the ocean, and a shadow comes over him, and he will not tell me why.
“There is a darkness in my love.
“And it frightens me.
“EACH DAY WE journeyed east, Historian, and each night I deciphered a little more of Mama’s journal, drawing the blood from the pages and pondering the puzzle of her words.
What I would’ve given for just a few minutes to speak with her.
To ask all I wished to know, but more, to tell her how sorry I was.
She’d been but seventeen years old when she met my father.
No idea of the web she was being drawn into, nor the monster who wove it.
“Reading Mama’s stories of him, I felt only contempt for Wulfric at first. But the more I read, the more I wondered if in some way he’d not truly cared for her.
The way Mama wrote about him made it sound as if Wulfric wished to set aside his duties to the Esani and seek a life with her.
It was foolish and I knew it—any immortal love will wither with the mortal beloved.
But he seemed conflicted, and I wondered why.
The Esani were fanatics. Celene was Wulfric’s acolyte, and she’d been obsessed with their perversion of the Faith.
With the ideal of redeeming the souls within her and all the empire besides.
“Did Wulfric really consider abandoning those duties for love of my mother?
“And how would breaking his vows save him, or the world?
“Perhaps he was simply mad, as Jènoah had been.
“God knew I could sympathize with that …
“Three more weeks had passed, and my thirst had me by the throat.
We were almost in Elidaen now—shadows of the Orhomme Mountains smudging the eastward horizon.
Our soldiers were in decent spirits considering, and they were kept fighting trim through a combination of morning drills led by Lachie and Charlotte, and nightly attacks from wretched.
There was no form or coordination to them—these were starving foulbloods too far rotted to understand anything but food and thirsty.
But the skirmishes kept the men sharp, and Lachie, Aaron, and me well supplied with blood.
“Still, Aaron was ill at ease. Though things were a touch better between him and Baptiste, they were nothing close to good. The presence of Fernando Cortez among our army certainly didn’t help, and though Aaron knew Baptiste had been under the spell of Ilon’s blood when he’d dallied with the forgemaster, my brother had little fondness for the man who’d made him a cuckold.
It might’ve been wiser to leave Cortez in León, but maintaining those wondrous mechwork bows for a force this size took a small army of blackthumbs, and we’d need every advantage when we faced Fabién.
“But truth told, Cortez wasn’t the real problem. Baptiste still wanted what Aaron refused to give. And for fear of succumbing to that want, Aaron kept his distance from the man he loved more than anything on earth.
“It was heartbreaking to watch.
“Being around Lachlan and Charlotte wasn’t much easier. My cousin clearly fancied my old ’prentice, and Lachie was smitten as hard as any man I’ve seen, poor bastard. But between them and any chance of joy was the promise Lachie had made.
“To himself. To the Order. To God.
“Lachlan had been raised by monsters. The only mortal son of Tolyev Dyvok. Joining the Ordo Argent had done more than save his life—it had saved his soul. Charlotte was a godly woman, and I understood my cousin well enough to know she’d never ask Lachlan to betray a holy vow.
And so, the pair of them danced around each other like powder and flame, absolutely terrified of what might happen if they touched.
“I was sat in Argent’s saddle that day, ahead of our column, pipe at my lips. Aaron rode beside me on Eclipse, pale and stately. He was swathed in his greatcoat of black and midnight blue, collar laced about his face, only ice-blue eyes visible.
“‘How fares your blade?’
“I glanced at my brother sidelong, but he didn’t meet my gaze, studying the distant foothills. I breathed red smoke as I replied, patting Ashdrinker’s hilt.
“‘Well enough. M. Cortez does good work.’
“A long silence swelled before Aaron replied.
“‘So I’ve heard.’
“I cursed, swiftly steering away from the topic of the forgemaster. ‘Not perfect work, mind you. Ash still gets confused about where and when she is. I try to talk her through it as best I can, but it’s hard on her. Part of her understands she’s forgetting, but not what she’s forgotten.
And it breaks her heart to know she’s not what she used to be. ’
“‘None of us are what we used to be, brother.’
“‘Sad but true.’ I nodded, drawing on my pipe. ‘But she’ll hold the course. Do what needs to be done, no matter the cost. She’s seen rougher roads than this, and we’ve not far left to travel now. I only have to hold it together long enough to end Fabién, after that…’
“‘You mean she.’
“‘… eh?’
“Aaron met my eyes then, ice-blue rimmed with red. ‘You mean Ashdrinker only has to hold it together long enough to end Fabién.’
“‘… That’s what I said, isn’t it?’
“Those cool eyes returned to the distant hills, narrowed now.
“‘You’re smoking an awful lot.’
“‘What of it?’
“‘Just an observation.’
“I glowered, jaw clenched tight. Aaron spoke soft into the rising chill.
“‘If you ever wish to talk—’
“‘No, I don’t want to talk, Aaron,’ I snarled. ‘Sometimes problems rise that you can’t jaw your way out of. Sometimes you need to climb the mountain alone. And sometimes the best friend in the world is the one who can keep their fucking opinions to themselves.’
“Aaron sighed.
“‘I was paleblood just like you, Gabriel. Before I lost what I used to be. I remember the Red Rites of San Michon. I remember those brethren who submitted to the abbot’s blade before they fell to the thirst. I remember the words they ended by.’
“‘Better to die a man than live a monster.’
“‘I know you will hold true until we face Fabién, Gabriel. And I will ride with you until the end. But if at that end you need someone…’
“Aaron looked at me again, and I saw blood welling on his lashes.
“‘Someone to…’
“I breathed deep, understanding what he was offering.
“Knowing how hard it must have been to offer it.
“‘… Merci, brother.’
“Aaron nodded, saying nothing else, ice-blue eyes once more on the distance. I thought about how we’d begun—two young pups in San Michon, bitter rivals, tearing at each other in our jealousy and rage.
How far we’d come. For five years I’d been a hero of this realm.
I’d liberated cities. Rescued nations. Saved thousands.
And still I wondered in that moment what the hell I’d done to deserve a friend like him.
“Aaron raised his hand then, pointing yonder.
“‘Look.’
“I turned, squinting in the strangled daysdeath light. Three horsemen were cresting the distant hills, riding slow toward us. Fetching my spyglass, I saw each wore tricorns, long black greatcoats embroidered at the breast with sevenstars.
“‘Silversaints,’ Aaron sighed. ‘How wonderful.’
“‘Lachlan!’ I twisted in my saddle, searching the long column of troops slogging through the mud behind us. ‘Lachie! ’
“My old ’prentice soon came galloping up to the front of the line on a grey sosya, Charlotte riding beside him. I tossed him my spyglass, nodded to the incoming ’saints, now less than a mile distant.
“‘Looks like Valentino and Carlos. Don’t know the third one.’
“Lachie raised the glass. ‘That’s Tolman. He’s Blood Dyvok. Apprenticed with Khalid.’
“Aaron pursed his lips. ‘And these … Beaufort brothers?’
“‘Blood Chastain,’ I replied, watching the ’saints draw nearer. ‘Valentino and Carlos fought with Lachie and me in the Sūdhaemi campaigns. Good men. Better warriors.’
“‘Paleblooded brothers?’ Charlotte raised her brow. ‘Born of the same vampire?’
“‘They’re twins,’ Lachie nodded. ‘Fierce as wolves and brave as lions.’
“‘And they drink like fish,’ I added. ‘Or at least, they used to.’
“‘You should get along famously then, cousin.’
“I scoffed. ‘Alas, I’ve drunk every drop I brought from León. And these boys know I killed Abbot Greyhand. So if they’re pissed, I’ve little to placate them.’
“The oncoming ’saints slowed their steeds thirty yards distant. They were armed to the teeth, greatcoats travel-stained, the whites of their eyes flushed red with the sacrament. The first unlaced his high collar, greeting us with a small nod.
“He was a handsome bastard, Nordish born, square of jaw and dark of eye. He wore a moustache and chinbeard, waxed to sharp points, and an iron-grey falcon perched on his shoulder, preening her feathers. Thick black hair was tied in a bun, and the tops of his hands were graced with bouquets of silver roses. My heart ached a little at the sight—I’d forgot it was my Astrid who’d inked the aegis on Valentino and his brother.
The blooms were as beautiful as she who’d scribed them, already beginning to glow in Aaron’s presence.
“‘Frère Lachlan,’ the ’saint said gravely. ‘Chevalier.’
“Sharp eyes fell on my cousin, and the tricorn was doffed with practiced ease.
“‘Madame?’
“‘De León,’ Charlotte replied. ‘And it’s mademoiselle.’
“A dark eyebrow rose skyward. ‘Indeed.’
“‘Valentino.’ I nodded. ‘Been a long time.’