The Vampire & Her Witch

That evening, Ashlynn dressed simply, wearing her plain emerald green Traveling Hat along with a simple green and brown dress that would have been suitable to wear for a long day riding a horse or visiting Eldritch villages in the countryside.

”Are you sure you this is the right tone, my lady?” Heila asked as she helped style Ashlynn’s hair into a simple, thick braid that gathered her long, blond tresses at the base of her neck. ”You are the Mother of Trees now. The others joining us will understand what that means better than most.”

”I know,” Ashlynn said with a light smile. ”But it’s because they understand that this is so necessary. As witches, you and I may be powerful, but we are both still beginners in our craft. A few months of training, no matter how intense, can never take the place of years of study, and everyone else tonight will have studied their arts longer than you or I have been alive.”

”If I wore the Fancy Hat and the jeweled gown that goes with it, they could never forget who I am,” she explained. ”But this way, once we turn to discussions of witchcraft and sorcery, it will be easier for them to forget about my status and speak plainly if I don’t try to over awe them with finery.”

”I see,” Heila said, placing a simple wooden pin in Ashlynn’s hair to hold everything in place. ”Then, should we eat family style, the way we did with Aunt Amahle?”

”Too casual for the palace,” Ashlynn said with a sigh. She’d originally tried to make the suggestion but when she explained to the palace staff that she wanted to borrow a kitchen so that she and each of the attendees of this gathering could cook a dish, the horrified looks she received told her that some things were just too far out of the norm. Evidently, letting the Mother of Trees and the Harbinger of Death into the kitchens to cook was more than they could tolerate.

”And Mistress Nyrielle will be with us,” Ashlynn reminded Heila. ”We benefit from Big Sister Amahle’s prestige here. Everyone knows the power of the Mother of Thorns and they respect her. Nyrielle is fighting to establish the prestige of the Harbinger of Death because her prestige as the Eldritch Lady of the Vale of Mists isn’t what it should be here. I can diminish my own prestige in front of our guests, but I can’t diminish hers too much.”

”You know you don’t need to worry so much about me,” Nyrielle said from the door as she glided into the room. ”But I appreciate that my darling is always considering so many things,” she added as she swept Ashlynn into a tight embrace.

For a moment, their lips met and the world melted away, leaving Ashlynn aware of nothing but the press of Nyrielle’s lithe figure against hers and the momentary prick of a fang on her lips that always preceeded the deepest of kisses. Her knees felt like jelly as Nyrielle’s tongue danced with her own and only the supernatural strength of Nyrielle’s tender embrace stopped her from falling to her knees while shivers of pure pleasure rippled through her body.

”Good morning, my love,” Ashlynn said, wrapping her arms around her lover’s slender shoulders and staring deeply into her midnight eyes. ”You know if you’re going to do that to me, you should at least give Heila time to excuse herself first,” she teased, throwing a wink over Nyrielle’s shoulder to the awkwardly blushing young witch. ”She hasn’t even had a chance to find a partner of her own among the strapping young gladiators signing up to fight for her hand.”

”That’s right, I haven’t even... What?” Heila said, opening her eyes wide in shock. ”Please, please tell me that they aren’t actually fighting over me,” she said, blushing slightly as she remembered Ashlynn telling stories about her father fighting a duel against a rival for her mother’s heart.

At the time, it sounded sweet and romantic, but after spending several days in the arena herself, the idea that grown men were throwing themselves into the brutal world of the arena to win her as though she was a prize that could possessed by the strongest provoked an entirely different reaction from her.

”It was a spectacle in one of the smaller arenas last night,” Nyrielle said. ”Zedya and Lennart were watching a fight when someone noticed them and thought they could bring back word of the strongest fighter among the Horned Clan. I don’t think they really expected to win your hand, but there are many men fighting for a chance to prove themselves worthy of your attention.”

”I think I’ve gathered all the attention I need,” Heila said awkwardly. ”But, should I meet with them anyway? If they’re strong fighters, they might be willing to come with us,” she said, looking between Ashlynn and Nyrielle.

”No, don’t you dare,” Ashlynn said with far more heat than she had meant to. ”Heila,” she said in a softer tone as she disentangled herself from Nyrielle’s embrace and knelt beside her closest friend. ”You are free to love whoever you wish, and one day, I hope you find love that fills your heart the way Nyrielle’s love fills mine. But don’t you ever, ever, think of using a marriage or the possibility of a marriage with you as a means of securing an alliance.”

”My darling is right, little Heila,” Nyrielle added, standing protectively over Ashlynn. ”Trading your virtue for soldiers is something that only humans subject their people to. The soldiers you gained through your strength in the arena are all the help I could ever desire from you and more.”

”It’s fine,” Heila said, flushing slightly in embarrassment at receiving Nyrielle’s praise. ”Besides, I already told Lady Ashlynn that I didn’t want to think about romance right now. Not when everything is so... uncertain,” she said softly. For a moment, the ghost of Andrus danced before her eyes but she firmly shook off thoughts of the excited young soldier to focus on the present.

”We should go,” Ashlynn said. ”The others are probably waiting already.”