The Vampire & Her Witch

The button in Wolstan’s age-wrinkled hand couldn’t be more familiar if it had come off of her own dress. With an anchor embossed across its face and a rim that had been textured like braided rope, it was distinctive, memorable, and elegant. Just looking at it brought an echo of her father’s voice to mind.

”The family crest isn’t something you wear every day, Ashlynn,” Rhys told her when she’d asked why the buttons of his coat lacked the sails and harpoon to complete the crest. ”The only men who wear their crest on their buttons and embroider it on the backs of their cloaks are petty, insecure and entitled fools who are afraid that people won’t instantly recognize how important they are at first sight.”

”An anchor on a button respects the family, but it also respects every ship in the harbor, every Lineman or Wayfinder, captain and crew alike,” Rhys explained.

”So, the harpoons on your coat, the black one with the blue lapels,” Ashlynn said. ”You do the same thing with embroidery?”

”See, you understand,” Rhys said, ruffling her hair affectionately. ”Power ebbs and flows. If you get caught up in the trappings and the trinkets, you’ll squander what power you have impressing the people who can’t help you while the people you need to court look down on you as a pretentious fool.”

”That’s an awful lot of thinking about your buttons and your coats,” Ashlynn said, pursing her lips together as she took in the lesson.

”How you dress affects how people perceive you,” Rhys said as he finished buttoning his coat. ”You can send a dozen different messages, just like signal flags on a ship, with how you dress. The thing to remember is that spending the most money or having the flashiest outfit isn’t how you win, any more than hanging the biggest signal flag will summon people to your rescue.”

”Isn’t the biggest flag the one for ’plague on board?’” Ashlynn asked as she thought through all the flags she’d learned so far.

”Exactly,” Rhys praised. ”If you fly ’plague’ when you mean ’send food’, you’ll never get rescued. Your mother is good at these things too, you know. You should ask her for advice the next time we host a feast. Ask her for help picking your dress instead of letting her pick it for you and see what you learn...”

It had been more than ten years since she’d had that conversation with her father, but his words still rang in her mind every time she prepared for an important occasion. And now, inexplicably, more than a thousand leagues from home, one of those buttons had found its way into the hands of a vampire who had come from even further away, in lands few humans had ever seen.

”How?” Ashlynn asked as she stared fixedly at the button. Her hand moved toward it, almost without thought, and Wolstan responded to her unasked question first by dropping the button into her hand.

The button was cold to the touch, and Ashlynn felt a shiver run down her spine as the cold ushered in waves of unwelcome thoughts. Was the button a cold carrier of her father’s dying words? Had it been taken from his body after the Inquisition discovered her secret?

None of the thoughts were rational, but each one came crashing over her whether it made sense or not, battering her like a stone on the shore and threatening to wash away the sands beneath her feet.

”Do you want to hear his message, or hear how I received it?” Wolstan asked in a tone so bland he could have been asking if she preferred apples or pears. ”His message isn’t long, but the story of it is longer.”

”Hear his message?” Ashlynn asked, caught slightly off guard. ”He didn’t write a letter for you to carry?” she asked as her heart sank with a disappointment she couldn’t entirely keep from her voice. More than anything, she wanted to snatch the letter from Wolstan’s hands and retreat to a place where she could be alone to read it, but if she had to hear him recite the message...

”Impossible,” Wolstan said bluntly. ”He told his message to another, who told it to me so I could carry it to you,” Wolstan explained. ”The one who brought the message swam from Blackwell to Green Sand Cove in High Lord Dirar’s domain. She brought the button as proof, but she did not come by boat. A letter would not have survived even if your father could have written one.”

”Swam? From Blackwell?” Ashlynn asked before she could stop herself. Shaking her head, she held up a hand to stop Wolstan from answering her question. It would only delay what she needed to hear most, and she’d just confuse the story further in the process.

Taking a deep breath, Ashlynn tried to calm her racing heart. In her hand, the silver button had warmed from her touch, and she held to it tightly as she took several more deep, steadying breaths.

”Please,” Ashlynn said when she felt as ready as she could make herself. ”What was my father’s message?”

”You should know that the one who carried his message to me doesn’t speak the king’s common tongue well,” Wolstan cautioned. ”The message she carried is simple...”

”Your father says he loves you,” Wolstan said. ”He’s happy you found your way to the Eldritch world. It was what he hoped for when he married you to Owain. He’s proud that you are the Mother of Trees and he’s sorry he never got the chance to tell you the truth.”

”He knows you will attack Owain Lothian,” Wolstan added, glancing briefly at the garden they currently occupied in the heart of Lothian Manor. ”He is preparing ships and soldiers to fight for you in the spring. He will fight the Holy Warriors who try to cross the seas, to prevent them from attacking you.”

”Your father loves you,” Wolstan repeated. ”Blackwell will stand with you against Owain, against the Church and against the Kingdom of Gaal. In the spring, when the snows stop, he will come to visit you...”