The Vampire & Her Witch

That morning, Percivus left Jocelynn’s cell in defeat. He barked at her before he left. Told her that he would give her time to think things through, and that he prayed that a few days of fasting would help her to remember what ’true nobility’ was. He’d postured and blustered, but Jocelynn didn’t bother to look at him, and his words rolled off her like water off the back of a duck.

She was done with him. He’d been dismissed. In the end, he could only swallow his defeat and retreat, because as much as he hated to admit it, she was right about some things. There were lines he couldn’t cross with a woman like her, no matter how much he wanted to.

When the door to Jocelynn’s cell slammed shut, it sounded triumphant to Jocelynn’s ears, but the victory rang hollow in her heart. As good as it felt to take a stand against Percivus, the price she’d paid to do it had been far too high. Without the strength that Eleanor had sacrificed herself to give her, Jocelynn could never have managed what she’d just done, and she’d gladly have suffered another day or countless more days of pricking her fingers on the embroidery needle and pleading for another few spoonfuls of porridge if she could have spent even one more day at her cousin’s side.

But now that she’d taken her stand, Jocelynn was truly alone in her cell. Neither Niklas nor Samlet came to lord over her, insisting she work on the embroidery. Since she refused to do more of their work, she had little to do with her time. She had put on a brave show, but she was still chained to the wall, unable to take more than a few steps from her cot, with only a single lamp to push back against the darkness and gloom of the cell that threatened to overwhelm her.

But without oil to feed the lamp’s flame, it had eventually guttered out, leaving her with nothing more than the pale, gray light from the overcast sky outside the window of her cell. It was barely more than a slit in the stone, really, fitted with iron bars that were likely older than Jocelynn herself, and positioned too high for her chains to allow her to reach even if she’d wanted to.

As the day wore on, fierce winds howled through the tiny opening in her cell, bringing with them the clattering sound of hail bouncing off the stones of Lothian Manor. A few pieces of hail had even managed to bounce through the bars, scattering across the stone floor of her cell like tiny diamonds, lingering on the stone floor of her cell for several minutes before slowly melting into nothing.

The damp chill of the dungeon should have seeped into her bones by now, particularly after spending a full day and night chained to the wall with nothing but the rough wool dress they’d left her in after taking away the blanket that had kept her warm through the cold winter nights. And yet, the cold didn’t touch her. It couldn’t touch her.

Eleanor’s sacrifice still protected her, even now.

Jocelynn could feel the warmth of it, a gentle, constant presence that wrapped around her like an invisible blanket, keeping the chill at bay just as it kept the gnawing pangs of hunger from tearing at her stomach. She’d had nothing to eat since the half bowl of soup Percivus had provided the night before, barely enough to keep a child alive, let alone a grown woman, and yet she felt no weakness, no trembling in her limbs, no lightheadedness that should have come from a full day without food.

Eleanor’s gift sustained her still, even though the woman herself was gone.

Jocelynn closed her eyes and let her head rest against the cold stone wall behind her, focusing on the warmth that still surrounded her. Eleanor had given everything to protect her, and Jocelynn would not waste that gift by succumbing to despair.

Instead, she turned her thoughts to how she would free herself from this nightmare. The balance of power between her and Percivus had shifted, but she had no idea how long Eleanor’s protection would last. She might only have a few days of strength left, and she had to use them wisely.

In her mind, she ran through countless scenarios. Just as her father had taught her, she tried to think through the things that Percivus wanted and needed, tried to understand the pressures that pushed him forward and the chains that held him back.

The man was cruel, but he wasn’t irrational. If she could sort out the pressure points that drove him, if she could find even the smallest bit of leverage over him, she might be able to convince him that keeping her captive was more dangerous than letting her free. He’d already executed two men, after all.

He could declare victory any time he wanted to. He could claim that he’d rooted out the conspiracy, and that Jocelynn had only been framed by the dead men. There was a way out for Percivus; she just had to find a way to convince him to take it.

The sound of raised voices echoing through the dungeon interrupted her thoughts. The noises were distant but growing louder. Jocelynn’s eyes snapped open, turning immediately to the heavy, wooden door of her cell. She couldn’t see what was happening outside the cell, but if she strained her ears, she could hear the unmistakable sounds of an argument clearly enough, and she could even make out a few scraps of the heated conversation.

”...orders from Lord Owain himself!” a man’s voice shouted, rough, commanding, and loud enough to be heard clearly over crashing waves and howling winds. A voice that belonged to Captain Albyn, she was sure of it. Just a day after Percivus had pressed her with questions, demanding to know where the former ship captain had vanished to, he was here, and he’d come to free her from this horrible place.

”The Inquisitor gave explicit instructions,” another voice replied, calmer but firm. Likely one of the guards stationed outside the entrance to the dungeons. ”No one is to enter the dungeons without his...”

”I don’t give a damn about the Inquisitor’s instructions!” Albyn snarled, his voice rising. ”Lord Owain has commanded me to bring Lady Jocelynn to him, and I will not be denied by a pair of gutless halfwits who are so frightened of the Inquisition that they’ve forgotten who the lords of the manor are!”