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At Uthe's surprised look, Keldwyn explained. "We have blocked human passage into our world for some time, but Queen Rhoswen has always shown limited tolerance for special human youngsters, particularly if they are respectful believers in the Fae world. She creates crossing points in their gardens and natural play spaces. Della is one such special child. Though quite impudent," he added, raising his voice and tossing her that glare again. "I shall have to turn her into a bright blue frog to teach her manners."
"Ribbit, ribbit!" Della responded, dislodging the dragon so she could hop across the ground like an amphibian. Though she was somewhat chubby, she moved with great energy.
Uthe's brow creased. The same insight that told him Catriona was an adult told him that Della was less mature than her apparent age, around sixteen years old.
"She is what the humans would call slow, or mentally challenged," Keldwyn said low, reading his face. "An underdeveloped mind. But here, she is at ease."
"Will she not be missed?"
"She crosses over in her mother's garden." Catriona supplied that explanation. "She is out of view for less than a blink, even if she spends the whole day here. You are compassionate, my lord. It matches what Kel told me of you. Most of it."
She sidled closer to Keldwyn, sliding her fingers through his loose hair and tangling there, giving the freed strands a significant look that he answered with a narrow-eyed warning. Her lips quivered against another smile, though this one she suppressed. Uthe sensed she'd once laughed more freely, but the joy was still there, just exercised more cautiously than before.
"What did Kel tell you of me?" Uthe wanted to know.
"After Lady Lyssa, he respects you more than any other vampire. Maybe a little bit more than Lady Lyssa some days, but I think that's when he doesn't agree with her on something."
"What about the days he and I don't agree?"
Her eyes danced. "He says vampires were a mistake by Creation and will shortly be ended by their own stupidity. He also calls you names."
"Nothing I haven't called you to your face, Lord Uthe," Keldwyn said, unperturbed. "Stubborn ass. Brainless primordial ooze."
"I'm so relieved it was nothing truly derogatory."
"Maysie made some of her cakes for you." Catriona changed the subject, turning back to Keldwyn. "She didn't lace any with love potions. I checked. I'll get them and some mead and we'll have a picnic." She gave Uthe another studied look. "You are very handsome, in a different way from most vampires," she decided. "More lines on your face, but they make sense. I understand better now why he likes you."
As Catriona ran off hand-in-hand with Della, the unicorn and dragon in pursuit, Uthe was bemused by the declaration. Up until now, his understanding of Kel's regard for him had been clouded by the motives of their respective worlds. Catriona had no reason to tell him anything but the truth, did she?
Keldwyn didn't look discomfited by her revelation, which was even more unsettling. "Love potions?" Uthe questioned. Keldwyn winced.
"Maysie is quite lush and lovely, and as sturdy, stubborn and loyal as a brick wall. She has not taken the hint in several decades, sure that I will eventually tire of my travels and want to settle down in her cottage with her. When Catriona was much younger, she lost her mother and her father abandoned her. Maysie would care for her when I had to be away. She seems to have no sense of the difference in our classes, or why that should matter."
"I expect you haven't been sufficiently cruel enough to make that clear. Or maybe she does know it and thinks you could be happy with a simpler life. It is usually true, but not always possible."
Keldwyn made a noncommittal noise. Wandering into the shade of the purple and pink trees, he dropped down onto the grass, leaning back on his elbows and stretching out his legs. His natural sensuality couldn't help but draw Uthe's close attention, unless he wanted to stab out his eyes to deprive himself of the pleasure. Keldwyn tipped his head up to look at him, his dark hair falling back and coiling on the grass. His lips curved.
"Come closer, vampire. I'm not the one who bites."
He could argue that point, but Uthe found no reason to resist sitting on the grass next to him. Keldwyn turned on his hip, his hand lying loosely along it.
"Is a simpler life what you discovered when you served with the Templars?"
"Yes. And no. I didn't come from excessive wealth, but there was no simplicity to the life I lived before I joined the Order. A very structured, predictable life proved...a way to peace. Later on, when they developed the Rule, with all its tenets for eating, sleeping, living, it almost eliminated the need for independent thought outside of battle. For a short time at least, that was easier. I embraced that."
Keldwyn remained silent, compelling Uthe to reach deeper. He wanted to say things to Kel he hadn't ever said to anyone, perhaps to reassure himself that his thoughts, the lessons he'd learned, would be remembered, even when he couldn't recall them. In that way, he would still somehow exist, even without an awareness of himself. "The things a soul actually needs is a short list. Yet the Rule stilled the clamor even for those. I centered my desires on God's Will and for a short time I found contentment. In that state, you believe the things you long to have will be answered in time, and that is enough."
The sound of wings and running footsteps told him Catriona was returning. He met Keldwyn's serious eyes but the Fae said nothing as Della knelt at Uthe's side and Catriona sat down in front of Keldwyn's thighs, using his body like the back of a chair as she spread out the cakes and the stoppered bottles of mead. Della pressed up against Uthe, peering into his face. "Your teeth are funny. Sharp. Like knives. Can I see them closer?"
Uthe obligingly bent. They shot forth, a quick snap that had Della jumping back and then giggling as he spread his lips in a comic snarl. Before he made them retract again, he let her draw closer and touch, but he clasped her wrist
to control the movement so she didn't press against a tip and break her skin. Hearing the beat of her blood through her throat, hunger stirred. It reminded him of what Keldwyn had said about needing to feed soon after his arrival in the Fae world. Who had he arranged for a meal?
He wished he could regret Keldwyn letting Uthe feed off of him. But even if it dimmed the appeal of any other option, he couldn't. If he'd only been able to feed from the Fae Lord once, he would prize that memory. As for whoever the source was, it was just food. He would thank Keldwyn for the consideration.
The stubborn, intolerant, pointy-eared elitist. He'd called Keldwyn that once or twice in the heat of debate.
"Would you take a bite, Lord Uthe?" Catriona extended a small piece of the cake. "I remember Jacob said vampires can eat a little."
"I will. And if I end up taking Maysie as a result, it will be Keldwyn's loss."
"Like she would suffer a vampire." Keldwyn scoffed. "She'd make you her drudge, sweeping and scrubbing the floors."
"Nothing wrong with honest work." Uthe chewed. "These cakes might be worth an eternity as a drudge." He took a sip of the mead. "Though I'm now mindful of the fairy tales which say to eat or drink in the Fae world might keep you there forever. I may never be allowed to leave."
"That will be up to Kel, not what you consume," Catriona said. Keldwyn sent her a cryptic look which she returned with an innocent blink. She threaded her fingers through his loose dark hair once more, seeming to enjoy touching it as much as Uthe did. "Della, let's take care of my lord Keldwyn's hair. Shall we? Go collect some meadow grass for me. We must make it tight and fast, a warrior's style, for I fear he will be facing some formidable enemies on this trip."
Keldwyn touched her mouth, now in a somber moue. She was obviously under no illusions that his time with her today was not casual chance. She tilted her head into his hand, pressing her cheek against his palm. Uthe wanted to tell her that he would compel the Fae to stay if he could, but he didn't wish to patronize her. He knew little of the feelings of those left behind when a soldier went into battle. He'd always been the one going, never the one staying.
