The Vampire & Her Witch

”We serve the Marquis, Lord Bors” the guard insisted. ”Lord Owain might be his heir, but we have orders to cooperate with Inquisitor Percivus while he roots out the conspiracy against Lord Bors. Even Lord Owain can’t...”

”Inquisitor Percivus,” Albyn interrupted, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl, ”is about to answer for his crimes against the Lothian family. He’s crossed lines that no man should ever cross and he’ll pay dearly for doing it. If you lot want to join him when he hangs by the neck, just keep standing in my way. Otherwise, make way. Now!”

There was a moment of tense silence, and Jocelynn found herself holding her breath, her heart pounding in her chest despite her confidence in Captain Albyn’s strength. Owain might have criticized the sailors Jocelynn had recommended he recruit from Blackwell City because they weren’t accustomed to fighting in armor, from horseback, the way that the knights of Lothian March fought when they faced demons, but at the moment, that hardly mattered.

Captain Albyn wasn’t facing demons in battle, he was facing off against the guards of Lothian Manor, and if there was one man among the ship captains who had come from Blackwell that knew a thing or two about subduing a lord’s guards, it was Albyn.

Then the sound of steel being drawn rang through the dungeon, followed by a shout, the crash of something heavy hitting the floor, and the unmistakable thud of something solid striking flesh.

”Run for hel...” a voice shouted, only to cut off with a sharp crack and a pained grunt, followed by the clattering sound of a weapon hitting the stone floor and the heavy -THUMP- of a body collapsing.

”Wait, I give up, I...” another voice cried out, desperate and pleading, only to be silenced mid-sentence by a sickening crunch of metal striking bone, followed by a howl of pain that quickly faded into groaning.

The sounds of the brief, brutal scuffle continued for several more heartbeats; fists striking flesh, bodies hitting walls, the clatter of dropped weapons ringing off the stone floor, before finally giving way to an eerie silence broken only by the labored breathing and occasional moans of defeated men.

For a moment, after the last man fell, there was nothing but silence as the sound of her own beating heart filled Jocelynn’s ears. Then, the sound of boots ringing off the stone walls of the dungeon joined her heartbeat, accompanied by the jangling of iron keys.

The wooden door at the end of the corridor slammed open with a thunderous crash, and heavy footsteps echoed against the stone as Captain Albyn strode into her cell.

For a moment, Albyn froze in the doorway, his weathered face twisting with barely suppressed rage as he took in the sight of her. His jaw clenched so tightly that Jocelynn could hear his teeth grinding together, and his knuckles went white around the iron ring that held the keys to the dungeon cells and shackles as his eyes swept over her rough wool dress, the chains binding her to the wall, and the accumulation of dirt and grime that covered her skin.

”Those fatherless sons of whores,” he breathed, his voice shaking with fury as he crossed the cell in three long strides. ”My lady, I... I should have come sooner. I should have...”

But whatever else he might have said died on his lips as he caught sight of her face in the dim light filtering through the window. Somehow, despite everything, the rough dress, the dirt, the chains, the crude cot without blankets, and the bitter cold of the dungeon cell, her seafoam eyes were clear and bright. More than that, there was a strength in her bearing that hadn’t been there before, and a light in her eyes that shone like the beacon of a lighthouse on the darkest, stormiest of nights.

”You came for me,” Jocelynn said quietly, and the certainty in her voice seemed to steady him, as if her calm, reassuring voice had guided him into a safe harbor that was sheltered from the storm. ”That’s all that matters.”

Jocelynn had never before considered the rough, weathered man to be attractive. His sun-bleached hair and tanned, leathery skin combined with an everpresent rough stubble to give him an appearance that was far too roguish for her tastes.

But today, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen as he rushed across the small dungeon cell, kneeling at her feet and reaching for the lock on the shackles that kept her prisoner in this horrible place.

She only wished that he’d arrived a day earlier. Just one day earlier and Eleanor would still be alive. One day earlier, and he could have freed them both from this horrible place. But then, as soon as the thought occurred to her, she ruthlessly rejected it. Whatever had delayed Albyn in reaching her side, he’d come for her.

If anyone was responsible for Eleanor’s death, it was Percivus, and Jocelynn herself for getting involved in this horrible mess to begin with, and she refused to lash out at her rescuer for arriving too late to save Eleanor. Doing so would only make a mockery of her cousin’s sacrifice and she refused to do anything that would dishonor Eleanor’s memory.

”Lady Jocelynn,” Albyn said, his voice rough but respectful as he fumbled with the keys he’d taken from the body of an unconscious guard. ”I’m sorry it’s taken so long to rescue you,” he said. ”And, I know you may hate me for what I’ve done, but I couldn’t think of any other way to free you from the Inquisitor as long as Lord Bors was backing his every move...”

”Albyn,” Jocelynn said gently, setting a hand on his shoulder and looking directly into his his eyes as she took in the deep creases of worry across his brow and the tight set of his jaw as he met her gaze. ”Just tell me, what is it that you’ve done?”

”My lady,” Albyn said, bowing his head in shame. ”I know you wanted to escape Lord Owain,” he said. ”And our best hope of escape would have been while he was away in Hurel Village. But... I didn’t dare to break you out of here without someone who could stop the Marquis and Inquisitor Percivus from sending their men after us, so...”

”So you brought Owain here to help rescue me,” Jocelynn said as she recalled Albyn threatening the guards, claiming to be acting on Owain’s orders. So it hadn’t been a convenient lie, but the actual truth.

”It’s fine,” Jocelynn said as she placed a finger under Albyn’s rough, stubble covered chin and lifted his gaze to meet hers. ”I may be returning from the dungeons to a gilded cage, but it’s better than being here. Besides,” she said as a slow, predatory smile formed on her lips, unlike any that Albyn had ever seen on her beautiful face.

”I have a score to settle with Inquisitor Percivus,” Jocelynn said. ”And if Owain is willing to oppose the Inquisition to free me from this cell, then maybe he can do more than that for me as well...”