The Vampire & Her Witch

”Sir Marcel, we’ve been waiting for you,” the flame-haired youth said as the merchant hopped down from the driver’s seat. ”Is that Darragh you have with you?” he asked, pointing to the bound and gagged figure sitting slumped on the driver’s seat next to where Marcel had been. ”We had a bit of trouble earlier,” he said as his face heated in embarrassment.

”Ollie! No, Sir Ollie,” Marcell said warmly, placing extra emphasis on Ollie’s new title. Walking quickly, the youthful-looking merchant strode to the young man’s side before enveloping him in an enthusiastic embrace and patting him several times on the back. ”Don’t worry about the trouble with Darragh,” he said quietly.

”I expected that someone might cause trouble,” he added. ”I just wasn’t certain who it would be. No harm was done, and we’ve uncovered a problem before it could grow into a catastrophe.”

”Thank you for catching him and bringing him back,” Ollie said, gesturing briefly to Eamon and Daithi to retrieve the unconscious deserter from the carriage. ”I owe you one for this,” he promised solemnly.

”Nonsense, we each have our roles to play,” Marcel said, stepping back and holding Ollie’s shoulders as he gave the young man an appraising look. ”I’m sorry I missed last night’s banquet. It looks good on you, and it’s about time that everything is official. Is this part of your new coat of arms?” he asked as he tapped the silver cloak pin. ”Have you picked a surname yet?”

”The pin is just decorative,” Ollie said with a chuckle, finally relaxing now that Darragh was back and under control. ”It isn’t even the right leaf. But I did pick a surname. Heartwood,” he said proudly, puffing up his chest.

”Heartwood,” Marcel said, nodding in approval as he wrapped an arm around the young man’s shoulder, leading him toward the carriage while he spoke. ”It suits you, it really does. But I’m being rude to our guests,” he added. ”Come, let me introduce you,” he said, pulling open the door to the carriage and extending a hand to help Isabell down.”

”Master Isabell of Blackwell County’s Illustrious Company of Engineers,” Marcel said smoothly. ”Along with Master Tiernan of Blackwell County’s Iron Mongers,” he said, introducing the pair of masters first. ”They’ve come a long way to be here tonight, you know,” Marcel said with a suggestive wink. ”They even threatened me if I couldn’t bring them safely here and deliver the meeting I promised. They’re really very loyal, very admirable people.”

Of course, Marcel wasn’t just speaking for Ollie’s benefit. With her enhanced senses that were as sharp as any vampire’s, Marcel was certain that Ashlynn could hear every word that was said, even from within the confines of the heavy canvas tent.

When she exited the carriage, Isabell couldn’t help but look around the camp, trying to find any clues she could to Lady Ashlynn’s current circumstances. There was only a single carriage baring a strange coat of arms that she’d never seen before, one that featured a large tree over a field of blue and green with flowers along the base of the tree. Could this be the lord who had been serving at Lady Ashlynn’s patron or guardian while she’d been in hiding?

But if Lady Ashlynn had gained some kind of protector, they were doing a poor job of defending her. From the looks of it, there were only half a dozen soldiers and a few servants moving about, and the only knight present was this young man who wasn’t even wearing armor. There were no patrols moving about, nor archers unless they had scouts of some sort hidden in the wilderness.

In fact, there was absolutely nothing that suggested they felt like there was any danger here at all. If anything, it looked like a noble lady’s picnic rather than a place to hold a clandestine meeting.

It seemed woefully inadequate for a place as dangerous as the mouth of the Vale of Mists was supposed to be, and Isabell instantly frowned at the young man who seemed to be acting so casually with Mister Marcel. From the sounds of it, he’d only recently become a knight, and he clearly had much to learn about his responsibilities as a knight if he was going to be assigned as a protector to Lady Ashlynn!

”Accompanying them,” Marcel continued smoothly and speaking once again for Ashlynn’s benefit, ”we have Sir Hugo Hanrahan and Sir Rain Aleese,” he said, drawing an instant reaction from Ollie as he recognized both the names and the men themselves. ”Marquis Bors himself ordered them to keep watch over Masters Isabell and Tiernan, and I felt that it would be a shame to leave them behind in Maeril.”

”Sirs and Masters,” Marcel said with an exaggerated bow. ”May I present Sir Ollie Heartwood, the Cypress Knight. He’ll tend to your needs while I have a few words with her ladyship,” Marcel said with a glance toward the waiting tent.

”Sir Ollie,” Sir Rain said, seizing the initiative to greet the newly minted knight before Isabell could get as much as a word out. Striding forward and extending his hand, he was prepared to give the young pup a crushing grip that would leave his sword hand sore for days, only to give the young knight a puzzled look when Ollie grasped his forearm rather than his hand.

”Who trained you, Sir Ollie?” the burly knight asked, surprised to see such a young knight using etiquette that had gone out of fashion in his grandfather’s era. ”Someone fairly old-fashioned?”

”I suppose you could say that,” Ollie said lightly. Sir Rain’s grip on his forearm wasn’t light, and the man was clearly accustomed to giving people more crushing handshakes, but the older etiquette that Thane had taught him offered different opportunities for gestures of dominance, and Sir Rain clearly hadn’t learned them.

Briefly, Ollie considered rooting himself to the ground and giving the other knight a solid shove or twisting to tug him off balance and send the other man stumbling, assuming he managed to keep his feet. He had wondered at the time why Thane insisted he learn to bully others in what was supposed to be a knightly greeting but now that he faced Sir Rain he realized that whether he chose to be use simple gestures as an opportunity to flaunt his strength or not, other people wouldn’t show the same restraint he did.

”It’s been a long ride, Master Isabell, Master Tiernan,” Ollie said with a warm smile as he released Sir Rain’s arm without showing the slightest hint of discomfort at the other man’s crushing grip.

”It isn’t fancy, but we can offer you a light soup and some warm cider to keep the cold at bay while Sir Marcel speaks with her ladyship,” he said, gesturing to the half open tent where servants were already filling wooden bowls with hot, steaming soup ladled from a large pot. ”Sir Hugo, Sir Rain, there’s more than enough for all of your men as well. After all, you’ve come all this way, the least we can do is offer a bit of hospitality.”

”I wouldn’t object to a cup of cider,” Isabell said hesitantly as she glanced at the tent where Lady Ashlynn was supposedly waiting to receive them. ”But I really shouldn’t keep her ladyship waiting.”

”Don’t worry,” Marcel said, waving over his shoulder as he strode toward the tent. ”I won’t keep her long. I’m sure she’s just as eager to meet with you as you are to meet with her.”