The Vampire & Her Witch

As the barons and their ladies made their way toward the High Table, choosing seats on either Ashlynn or Owian’s side of the table, the Aleese family made their move.

Or rather, Baroness Peigi Aleese made her move.

Tybal had been steering toward Owain’s side of the table, intending to join with Baron Rundel and Baron Leglau, who had echoed his neutral position, but Peigi’s hand closed around his forearm with a grip that stopped him mid-stride.

”This side,” she said quietly.

”Peigi,” Tybal said, frowning as she pulled him toward Lady Ashlynn’s side of the table. ”What game are you playing?”

”Hugo is on this side,” she said, looking more like a worried mother than the calculating noblewoman she was known to be. ”I need to speak with him. Now. Before anything else happens.”

Tybal studied her face for a long moment. Then he changed direction without another word, leading his wife to the open seats beside Hugo on Ashlynn’s side of the table. There were a few whispers rippling through the hall as people made one set of assumptions or another.

At the Aleese table, Reynold allowed himself a brief moment to hope that his mother had actually talked some sense into his obstinate father, but no one who was speculating understood what had truly motivated the baroness.

Peigi didn’t care about how Owain would react or the political implications of where she sat. The moment she was in her chair, she leaned past Tybal toward Hugo, and her voice dropped to a whisper that shook at the edges.

”Hugo,” she said quietly. ”Where is Rain? Where is my son?”

Hugo and Rain had gone to accompany Master Isabell and another Blackwell guildmaster not long before the raids broke out along the western border of the march. Now, both Hugo and Master Isabell had reappeared as part of Lady Ashlynn’s retinue, but her son Rain was nowhere to be seen.

Hugo turned to look at the Baroness, and the expression on his face shifted as he found himself face to face with the question he’d hoped would have reached Liam or Isabell rather than him.

”Rain is alive, my lady,” Hugo said quietly, pursing his lips as he tried to decide how much he could share. ”He was fine the last time I saw him.”

Peigi released a long, trembling breath as a wave of relief washed over her, only to have her chest go cold when her mind processed Hugo’s qualifier: ’the last time I saw him.’

”Then, did you become separated in the raids or,” Peigi asked hesitantly. ”Or did something else happen?”

”No, no, it isn’t that,” Hugo said quickly so she wouldn’t misunderstand. ”We, um, we weren’t caught up in the raids. We didn’t know when we joined her, but Master Isabell wasn’t really looking for lands to found her village; she was going to meet with Lady Ashlynn. We just... got caught up in, um, everything,” he said, gesturing to Lady Ashlynn, where she sat on the delicate throne of the Marchioness at the center of the table.

”It’s just that Rain, um, Rain didn’t handle himself well after we arrived,” Hugo explained awkwardly. ”He challenged Sir Ollie to a duel the very first day we were there, and he lost badly. They only fought with fists. I don’t think Sir Ollie broke any of Rain’s bones in the fight, but he was bruised and bloodied by the time he fell,” Hugo explained.

”Rain’s a tough lad,” Tybal said, though the words sounded more like an honest appraisal than any kind of paternal pride. ”I’m sure he’ll recover from a minor scuffle easily enough. The only real injury is likely to be to his pride.”

”That, um, I’m certain you’re right,” Hugo said with a nervous glance at Sir Ollie. He could hardly explain that there was nothing ordinary about a fist-fight with a witch, particularly one of Sir Ollie’s terrifying strength, nor could he explain that Rain had been beaten badly enough to require healing from Lady Heila...

Now was hardly the time or the place to get into details that Lady Ashlynn wasn’t ready to share, so Hugo focused on the things he could share.

”Lady Ashlynn actually intended to send Rain back to you,” he said. ”The same way she sent Lord Liam back to his father before this started.”

”So that’s why Loghlan went over to her so quickly,” Tybal said, making a fist and thumping the table softly as he frowned at the lord a few seats further down the table from him.

Even if Rain had come with a message from Lady Ashlynn, Tybal doubted he would have gone over to her side easily; there were far too many factors to consider before joining in what amounted to armed rebellion, but at least he would have known what was happening.

”So?” Tybal asked roughly. ”What did Rain do to lose the chance to come back to us as Lady Ashlynn’s messenger? Was it because of this duel he fought?”

”No,” Hugo said, shaking his head and biting his lower lip before he finally spoke. ”He, um, the things he said to Lady Ashlynn when she hosted us for dinner aren’t things that should be said,” he said, glossing over the details. ”He was trying to drive a wedge between her and Lord Liam, and he um...”

”Say no more,” Tybal said, holding up a hand for Hugo to stop. ”Rain was never one for subtlety. I can imagine he handled himself... poorly,” he said, looking into Peigi’s eyes with a gaze that contained all the things he couldn’t ever say aloud.

”But, but he’s fine, right?” Peigi said, looking at Hugo with pleading eyes. ”He offended Lady Ashlynn, and she couldn’t send him back to us because she couldn’t trust him, but... But he’s fine, right?”

”He should be,” Hugo said, shrugging his shoulders awkwardly because he truly didn’t know. ”He may not be comfortable, but Lady Ashlynn’s punishments aren’t... They aren’t as vicious as my cousin Sybyll’s,” he offered. ”At the very least, Rain is doing much better than Lord Loman.”

Before Hugo could explain what that meant, Ashlynn wrapped her knuckles sharply on the table, bringing everyone’s attention back to the center of the table.

”My Lords and Ladies,” she said, seizing the initiative to speak before Owain could attempt to wrestle control of the narrative from her. ”Tonight, the Inquisition has acted arrogantly and recklessly, endangering everyone in this hall in an attempt to murder a lady of the realm without proof of any crimes,” she said.

”The people of the march cannot tolerate such a tyrannical abuse of power,” she declared. ”And so the Lothian Court will sit in judgment of the Abbot and his followers. I fear, however, that their crimes extend far beyond tonight’s incident, and that they represent a pattern of systematic abuse of the trust the faithful place in their leaders,” she said as she turned to the dark-haired Inquisitor standing near the captive members of his order.

”Inquisitor Diarmuid,” Ashlynn said, nodding politely to the Inquisitor from the Holy City. ”Please, help reveal the truth to the Court so we may judge these men fairly...”