The Vampire & Her Witch

The night was cold and moonless, and fat, fluffy snowflakes danced in the air above Lothian City, blanketing it in a fresh coat of white powder that crunched underfoot.

In the east garden of Lothian Manor, Ashlynn sat under the shelter of a gazebo, sipping hot tea while she worked through the day’s reports. Several braziers burned around her, creating a fragile pocket of warmth that pushed back against the winter cold, but rumors had already begun to circulate through Lothian Manor about why Ashlynn spent so much time out in the cold instead of working from the office of the Marquis or any other office within the sprawling manor.

Some rumors claimed that only the icy cold of winter could quiet the rage and bloodlust in her heart. Others said that she was grieving for the husband she’d killed and that suffering in the snow was a form of self-imposed penance. None of the rumors came close to the truth.

Lothian City was home to more than fifty thousand people, packed tightly into a city that still hid behind its walls. The surrounding hills had been stripped bare of all but a few small stands of trees long ago, and the nearest proper forest was the Lothian hunting preserve, half a day’s ride away.

Ashlynn hadn’t realized it at first, but as the days wore on, she found herself missing the lush forests of the Vale of Mists or the savage wilderness of the Briar’s cypress groves. Even High Fen City, with its large public parks and open, sprawling network of canals, hadn’t felt as isolating and oppressive as the fortress city the Lothians had built alongside the River Luath.

The gardens of Lothian Manor at least offered her a small reprieve. The ornamental trees were dormant, sleeping under a light coat of snow while they waited for the spring thaw, but at least she could feel the flow of life around her here. It made it easier to face the stresses that piled up, one atop another, as she prepared for the arrival of High Lord Dirar and her beloved Nyrielle.

Ashlynn needed that comfort as she sifted through the stack of reports that Isabell had deemed important enough to require her attention.

Messengers had begun arriving from the baronies, carrying bundles of ledgers and records of everything from harvests to tithes. Poor Hugo had locked himself away in the office he’d once used as Owain’s Steward to sift through it all, reconciling much of it against the march’s own records in search of discrepancies.

Ashlynn had been shocked when Hugo told her how much Ian Hanrahan had been skimming off the top of his tithes, and how he’d been spending his excess wealth over the years. Hugo was confident that some of the other barons had engaged in similar ’creative accounting’ and he was determined to expose it before anyone got the idea that they could get away with ’business as usual’ now that the march was ruled by a young woman.

Ashlynn was less concerned about the ledgers than Hugo was. Marcel, as the man responsible for at least half of the smuggling that occurred in Lothian March, and the puppet master behind many of the ’bandits’ who preyed on Lothian merchants, already had a good idea which barons engaged in truly dark dealings and which ones were simply struggling to manage their domains in the face of the frontier’s many challenges.

Ashlynn had sent for the ledgers to give the barons an opportunity to come clean and prove their character, not because she required any evidence. Still, Hugo was making a considerable effort on her behalf because he felt it was important, and Ashlynn wasn’t about to quash that desire.

If he was ever going to grow into the kind of man who could pass the trials to become a witch, he would need the strength that came from making his own decisions, for better or for worse. He would also need the confidence that came from accumulating successes and learning from his failures. If she preempted his efforts, he’d never gain either.

”Once we redraw the lines and redefine their roles, this should get easier,” Ashlynn told herself as she set Hugo’s reports aside.

The days when a baron could wield his power with little oversight or accountability would soon come to an end, whether they liked it or not. If they insisted on clinging to the old ways, they would quickly find themselves left behind by their peers who could embrace change and the opportunities that would be created for those who were bold enough to claim them.

Some people, however, would have no place in the world they were building, and it seemed like Valeri Leufroy was one of them.

Two days of searching, both in the manor and in Lothian City, had yet to reveal any trace of the missing baron. Neither his wife nor his son seemed to have any idea where he’d gone or how he might have escaped the manor, and the only lead they’d uncovered was a member of the kitchen staff who claimed to have seen Valeri inspecting the storehouses and the wagons that brought fresh food in from the market.

Valeri never struck Ashlynn as the sort of man who could make himself small enough to hide away as a servant in the hopes of slipping out when they sent wagons out to gather ingredients for the upcoming feast, but she couldn’t ignore the possibility, so every wagon entering and leaving the manor for the past day had been escorted by one of Loghlan Dunn’s knights. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but with everything else she had to accomplish, it was as much as she could do.

Preparations in the city were almost complete. Thanks to the efforts of Lady Mairwen and the younger ladies of the court, the city was eagerly anticipating the arrival of a mysterious ’great lord.’ Ashlynn had ordered the streets cleared from the southern gate all the way to Lothian Manor, and Isabell had overseen the construction of temporary barricades to block off side streets along the route that the Eldritch would take as they made their way to the manor.

Tonight, Ignatious and High Priest Aubin would hold a special ’midnight vigil’ at the Great Temple in the hopes of bottling up as many of the city’s faithful zealots as they could before Nyrielle and Dirar’s arrival. Ashlynn would go to address them in the morning, explaining what was about to happen before making her announcement to the entire city.

There would still be panic and chaos. There were too many people packed into the city, and tensions had been too high for too long to escape some sort of reaction. But she still had to try everything she could to prevent as much harm as possible.

Taking up a sheet of parchment and a quill, Ashlynn began to write out more instructions for Loghlan Dunn, who had taken over the duties of the sheriff while they prepared for tomorrow’s arrival.

There were people in every community who could rally others with passionate words or who had accumulated so much trust from their neighbors that they could easily sway the opinions of large swathes of the city. If she could invite as many of those people as possible to join her atop the city’s walls to witness the arrival of their guests...

Before she could finish writing out her thoughts, however, she was interrupted by the faint flutter of wings and a sudden chill in the air that had nothing to do with winter.

”Wolstan,” Ashlynn said, smiling as a raven perched on the seat across the table from her. ”I’ve been looking forward to meeting you...”