The Vampire & Her Witch

For what felt like an eternity, but was really only a few heartbeats, no one moved. The soldiers had yet to notice the standoff that had suddenly broken out between their hosts, and both Ollie and Marcel were staring so intently at Hugo that the Steward felt like his knees would give out any minute. Blessedly, much like the intensity of Ashlynn’s reunion with Isabell, moments this fragile couldn’t last long either.

”Is there a problem?” Ashlynn’s voice called, breaking the tense silence as she stepped away from Isabell. Rubbing the tears from her emerald eyes, her gaze immediately hardened as she saw Marcel holding Sir Rain hostage.

The look on her face grew dark, and for a moment, she nearly forgot herself enough to call upon the power of the forest to restrain Sir Rain, or to somehow punish him for spoiling the moment that had been so joyous just a moment ago.

Her power responded to her desires, and ever since visiting the empty grave that had once been hers, and even more so after reuniting with Master Isabell, her desires stormed within her chest like a flooding river in an autumn storm. Everything was so close to the surface, and she’d allowed her desires to overwhelm her when she embraced Isabell, but right now, the freedom she’d given her heart threatened to call power to her hands to deal decisively with the knights who had taken the place of the men who buried her here.

Instead, she forced herself to take several steadying breaths and to remind herself again and again that it wasn’t time yet to reveal her power to Isabell and Tiernan. She had faith that they would understand if she could explain things to them properly, but losing her temper and wrapping Sir Rain in a cage of cedar roots would spoil any chance she had of bringing them fully over to her side... And Rain wasn’t worth that price.

”Let him go, Sir Marcel,” Ashlynn said in a voice that was quickly losing its warmth. It took effort, but she and Marcel had made a plan to deal with these men, even if it was a simple one, and she intended to see it through. ”He’s not a threat to anyone except himself, and I still intend to give him and Sir Hugo an opportunity.”

”As you wish, my lady,” Marcel said. With a flick of his wrists, both knives vanished, tucked up his sleeves or returned to sheathes at his waist, no one could say for certain. But everyone who saw the motion realized just how quickly Marcel could transform from harmless-looking dandy into something far more deadly, and then back again, every bit as fast.

”My, my lady Ashlynn,” Hugo said, swallowing around a large knot that had formed in his throat when he watched the normally powerful and domineering Sir Rain reduced to a pale-faced and sweating captive in the blink of an eye.

Months of subtle and not-so-subtle bullying from the portly knight had left him with a stature in Hugo’s eyes that was only slightly less intimidating than Lord Owain’s, but seeing him like this in the hands of a man they’d all looked down on caused yet another piece of the hawk-nosed steward’s world to crumble away beneath his feet, leaving him even more uncertain of where he stood. Desperate for a way to handle the increasingly strange situation, he latched onto her words like a drowning man latching onto a floating log.

”You said, you said you want to offer us an opportunity?” Hugo asked, with a distinctly unknightly tremble in his voice. ”An opportunity to do what exactly?”

Instead of answering him directly, Ashlynn looked toward the wagons where Eamon and Daithi stood watch over the slumped, unconscious form of Darragh. Both men had remained standing and alert through the entire standoff while they watched over their captive but neither of them had made any motion to assist when Marcel moved against Sir Rain.

After all, between Sir Marcel and Sir Ollie, was there really anything either man could contribute? Instead, they’d remained focused on their task, keeping a watchful eye on the traitor until Lady Ashlynn was ready to deal with him.

”Constable Daithi,” Ashlynn said formally, drawing herself up to her full height and emanating the aura of an unquestionable ruler once again as her presence grew to envelop the entire camp. ”Can you wake him? Or do you need my help to rouse him?” Ashlynn asked, drawing a strange look from Master Tiernan and Isabell who wondered why Lady Ashlynn of all people would be helpful in dealing with the unconscious man.

”He might, just might, need your touch, my lady,” Marcel said a touch sheepishly. ”I just stunned him with a blow to the head, but I may have hit him just ever so slightly harder than I should have,” he said, holding up a pair of fingers a hairsbreadth apart. ”I didn’t realize what a tiny man he was and how little ability he had to endure rough treatment,” he added in a coquettish tone that pulled a ripple of stifled laughter from many of the servants and guardsmen present, breaking the tension that had gripped the camp.

”This should help then,” Ashlynn said, laughing openly at Marcel’s antics before fishing in the pouch at her waist for a small bundle of pungent herbs that she tossed to the waiting constable. ”It will work as well as smelling salts. If you need to clear his head, feel free to dunk him in the river, just don’t let him drown,” she added, though from her tone, no one could tell if she was joking or serious.

”Gentlemen,” she said as she turned back to the trio of knights, schooling her features into a more somber, severe expression as she met each of their gazes. ”This man is accused of betraying his liege lord and his fellow soldiers. Since there are three honorable knights available, I intend to convene a tribunal to hear the evidence of his crimes and pronounce his guilt or innocence.”

”You have this one opportunity,” she added, looking directly at Rain and Hugo. ”Show me what kind of men of honor you are. Prove to me that you can be more than lapdogs lying at Owain’s feet and waiting for scraps to fall from his table. But make no mistake,” she said as her presence seemed to loom as large in their eyes as the endless dark forest behind her.

”The way you conduct yourselves and the verdicts you render will determine if you become my guests... or my captives. So hold to your oaths and your virtues, gentlemen, and prove to me that you are as worthy to be called a knight as Sir Ollie.”