The Vampire & Her Witch

Ashlynn moved indoors after her meeting with Adala. At a time like this, she should have been using the grand office that had functioned as a secondary audience hall for the marquis for generations in Lothian, but until she’d had a chance to completely empty and redecorate the space, Ashlynn was unwilling to set foot in it.

Instead, she’d claimed a small sitting room with comfortable, overstuffed chairs and a small hearth that crackled in the corner. The tapestries on the walls depicted hunting scenes, and there was a boar’s head mounted over the hearth that combined with other minor details on the furniture to give the room a distinctly masculine air, but compared to the skulls of Eldritch warriors and other trophies that decorated the marquis’ office, the room was clearly a superior choice for her next meetings.

”Lady Ragna, Lord Erling,” Ashlynn said, greeting the older, auburn-haired woman and her son as they entered the sitting room. ”Please, come sit; there’s no need for formality here,” Ashlynn said, stopping Erling before he even had a chance to kneel.

”You say that, Your Grace,” Erling said cautiously as he settled into a plush, well-worn armchair facing Ashlynn across a small table. ”But we don’t know each other well despite what you’ve led people to believe,” he said pointedly.

After Ashlynn left the Great Hall, he’d been swarmed by lords asking him about his ’bargain’ with ’Wolstan,’ and few had believed him when he’d said that it was the first time he’d ever heard the name. Lord Loghlan had come to his rescue, after a fashion, but his cryptic comments about how Erling had ’long been an ally of Lady Ashlynn’s allies’ had only intensified the scrutiny and interest of his fellow barons who felt like he might offer a path to gaining Lady Ashlynn’s favor or avoiding her fury.

”Erling,” Lady Ragna said, tapping her son gently on the hand as she took her seat next to him. ”I’m certain that Lady Ashlynn had her reasons,” she said as she leaned forward to retrieve a silver decanter of fragrant, spiced wine, pouring a cup first for Lady Ashlynn and then one for herself and her son.

”I wouldn’t believe it if she said she didn’t,” Erling said, ignoring the cup of wine in front of him as he focused on Lady Ashlynn, observing her the same way he observed the rolling grasslands of his barony when he was looking for signs of game.

”Your Grace, I’ve tried my best to support you since last night,” Erling said. ”But the ’messages’ that Lord Loghlan brought me haven’t exactly been filled with details, and I feel a little bit like a pawn who’s been moved several spaces without knowing why he’s moving or where he’s going. I think I’ve earned some answers after all that,” he said bluntly.

It wasn’t like him to be so direct and confrontational, but after watching Lady Ashlynn handle the Lothian Court last night, and again this morning, he couldn’t think of a better way to handle her.

When she confronted Owain Lothian, she was like a hunter stalking its prey. She set out several traps for Owain and led him into one after another, until he was cornered in exactly the position where she wanted to trap him. Every time he’d struggled against her, she’d had a response prepared, from the ship captain turned knight who ambushed Sir Gilander to the woman who bore Owain’s illegitimate child; she had answers to everything, all meticulously prepared and positioned in advance...

And when Erling discovered that he was one of those pieces, prepared years in advance, it had shaken him enough that he barely slept overnight.

Erling didn’t know Lady Ashlynn personally, but he was certain that if he tried to hold himself back the way he did with the other noblemen of the court, he’d only find himself trapped by someone who maneuvered far better than he did. So rather than play the game that had kept him and his barony largely safe from the schemes of his fellow barons for the past several years, he aimed directly for the heart of the matter and prayed that he didn’t miss.

”I think that’s fair,” Ashlynn said, retrieving the cup of wine and taking a small sip before setting it aside. ”But I also think that we’ve earned a measure of your trust. Nyrielle has interceded with High Lord Dirar on your behalf for over a decade, and in that time, so long as you kept your promise to Wolstan, your barony hasn’t experienced any of the troubles that Aleese did,” she pointed out.

”That’s true,” Erling said, retreating slightly before pressing forward again. ”Is Wolstan the name of the raven who spoke to me all those years ago?”

”He’s not a raven,” Ashlynn said, smiling slightly as she relaxed into her chair, soaking in the warmth of the hearth. ”He’s a vampire, one of Nyrielle’s progeny, like Ignatious and Marcel.”

”Marcel?” Erling said, suddenly going very still. ”The Black Merchant’s envoy, Marcel? He’s a vampire?”

”He’s the Black Merchant,” Ashlynn said, her smile growing as she watched the youthful baron taking in yet another surprise. ”It takes some getting used to, how young vampires can look, but he’s older than my father,” Ashlynn explained. ”He’s been very impressed by you over the years, and that takes some doing. If Fayle weren’t so far out of the way, I’m sure you would have seen a great deal more of him over the years.”

”I’m sorry,” Lady Ragna interrupted, looking between her son and Lady Ashlynn as she quickly realized that their conversation was operating on layers she was missing important pieces to understand.

”Your Grace,” Ragna said, settling on Lady Ashlynn since it seemed like her son had been keeping a number of secrets from her over the years. ”Are you saying that Erling has been meeting with the vampires of the Vale of Mists... for years? And that’s why we’ve been safe from raids from the, um, the Eldritch people of the Southern Steppe?”

”Yes, and no,” Ashlynn said carefully as she watched the blood drain from Lady Ragna’s face. ”I think it’s better to say that your son is right; he’s been treated like a pawn in a game he doesn’t know he’s playing, and while he’d benefited from that treatment, he hasn’t been an informed conspirator,” she explained.

”Wolstan is one of Nyrielle’s messengers,” Ashlynn explained. ”The gift he holds is called the ’Harbinger’s Form’, and it allows him to take the shape of a number of animals, including a raven,” she said. ”He approached Erling years ago to offer a simple peace accord. Respect a southern border at the River Tuilig and High Lord Dirar would leave your barony alone.”

”When... when did this happen, Erling?” Ragna asked, looking at her son as though he’d suddenly grown horns or hooves.

”Just before I took the throne,” Erling said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. ”More than ten years ago...”

”But you, you were still just a,” Ragna started to say only for her mouth to snap shut with a click. At an age when most young lords were looking for a knight to apprentice to as a squire, her son had taken his father’s throne. She’d told him then that she wouldn’t treat him like a child anymore, even though he wasn’t yet fully grown, but... he was still heartbreakingly young for the responsibilities he shouldered.

And, evidently, those responsibilities included negotiating a heretical peace treaty with the very same people who had been responsible for his father’s death...