The Vampire & Her Witch

For a time, while Lady Eira helped Maela wash and refresh herself, the countess from Blackwell did little more than listen as Eira spoke of the Bloodroot Empire and all the changes it brought.

From allowing women to rule directly, rather than holding thrones until a ’legitimate’ heir was able to take it, to the establishment of formal, standing armies, Maela soaked in the scale of her daughter’s ambition and tried to sort out which parts had likely come from Ashlynn and which may have come from the vampire, Nyrielle.

The more she listened, the less surprised she was that these changes had upended Eira’s goals in life. The young people in this new empire had just been shown a glittering feast of possibilities that they’d never even dreamed of. It would be strange if they weren’t excited.

Maela, however, worried about what would happen to those who proved incapable of seizing the few opportunities that Ashlynn had just created. Whatever she called her officials, Lord Minister or Magistrate or anything else, once the initial rush to fill vacancies ended, a good many people would be left holding onto broken dreams, and the backlash of their disappointment could be devastating for the fledgling empire.

Of course, if she could see that, she was certain that Ashlynn or Nyrielle could too, but she resolved to talk to her daughter later anyway. If they had plans for handling the problems she saw lurking beyond the horizon, then it would be interesting to learn what they were. If they hadn’t thought of something...

Well, Maela would just have to help in every way she could. Now that she had a second chance to be a mother to Ashlynn, she wasn’t about to throw it away, and even she found herself excited at the prospect of watching Ashlynn spreading her wings to fly in a way the Kingdom of Gaal never would have allowed her to.

”Are you feeling better now, Countess?” Eira asked as she finished combing out Maela’s pale blond hair.

”Much better,” Maela said. ”I appreciate the swiftness with which Mister Marcel brought us here, but I hope I never have to travel that way again,” she said as she glanced around the room for a sign that her luggage had been brought up from the carriage.

Maela still had one dress left to change into that had only been worn once on the journey but instead of producing her traveling chest, Eira fetched a cloth bundle tied with an orange silk ribbon and presented it to Maela.

”Lady Heila prepared this for you,” Eira said as she pulled out the ribbon. ”If you’d prefer, I can fetch something from your luggage, but she hopes that you’ll accept a small gift.”

”Let me see,” Maela said, tugging on the ribbon and opening the bundle.

The first garment was a simple silk shift in a dull, rusty orange. It wasn’t a color that Maela favored, and it would have looked out of place in the cooler tones of blue and lavender that were in favor in Blackwell, but the fabric itself was like nothing Maela had ever touched. The weave was tight, but it held none of the stiffness Maela would have expected, and the threads were incredibly fine.

More than anything, the garment was soft, and it readily held warmth close to the body in a way that would be very welcome once she stepped out into the winter cold.

The second garment, however, was the one that took her breath away.

The dress itself was simple and modest. Fine silk had been dyed a rich, russet color, and the dress had a high neck and bell sleeves that would envelop her hands if she didn’t pull them back; something else that would be welcome in the cold of a winter night on the frontier.

It was a simple, practical dress even if it was made of a luxurious silk, and Maela should have known to expect this sort of practical thinking from her eldest daughter or people who followed her.

The embroidery, however, was anything but simple or practical.

Starting at the hem of the skirt, a pattern of radiant suns had been embroidered in the pattern of a sacred analemma, charting the course the sun took in the sky if you looked for it at the same time every day on different days of the year. It was a symbol that had fallen out of favor with the church more than a century ago, yet she found it here, now, rendered large enough to stretch from her ankles to her hip.

The coppery embroidery didn’t stop at the analemma either. Across the left side of the bodice, the stars of the constellation named for Alcmena Paratus, the Ascended Guide, had been formed out of tiny sacred flames. It wasn’t an icon used by any order that Maela had ever heard of, but it resonated with many of the teachings of the Confessors to burn brightly and light the way for those who were lost in darkness to find their way back to the light.

”You said that Lady Heila prepared this for me?” Maela said, swallowing heavily as she traced her fingers across the delicate artistry of the embroidery. ”She’s a... She’s a witch,” Maela said, reminding herself not to use the word ’demon’ here. ”Is she also a believer?”

”She’s betrothed to High Inquisitor Ignatious,” Eira answered delicately. ”I can’t say that she’s converted to our faith, but she has respect for the words of the Great Prophet and the Saint Teacher. She and the High Inquisitor believe that the Church has strayed from the meaning of the original teachings, and the High Inquisitor is working to bring those teachings back.”

”Lady Heila said that you might find comfort in a dress like this one,” Eira added hesitantly. ”Or it might offend you. She won’t be bothered if you’re offended,” the young lady added quickly. ”But she hopes you can accept it in the spirit that it’s offered.”

For a moment, Maela almost rejected the dress. She’d resolved to leave the convent and the order of Confessors behind when she raced to her daughter’s side. The Church had no business standing next to a witch, or at least, that’s what she’d thought when she left. She chose her family over the Church, and she refused to regret that decision.

But then, her fingers traced along the curve of the sacred analemma, and she found very old words coming to mind.

”Even the brightest lights wander in their journey,” Maela recited. ”But always, they return to what is good and true,” she said, resting her fingers on the center point of the analemma.

”Is this supposed to be a message?” Maela asked, half rhetorically and half to Eira.

”If it is, I don’t know it,” Eira said honestly. ”But High Inquisitor Ignatious wears that symbol on his robes. He says it contains many lessons for those who seek the truth.”

”I see,” Maela said, moving her gaze from the analemma to the sacred constellation. ”And Ashlynn knows about this?”

”She does,” Eira said. ”She said that Dirar, Lord of the Blood for the Southern Steppe, would almost certainly approach you about the constellation if you wore it, but that it wouldn’t be a bad thing. If you’re bothered by the attention...”

”No,” Maela said, shaking her head. ”If Ash is only concerned about how other lords will react, then I guess I was worried for nothing,” Maela said. ”I was more concerned about how Empress Nyrielle would react to symbols of the Church, but clearly I was reading too much into it,” she said as her fingers found their way to the bright orange laces that stood out like flames against the darker russet fabric.

”Can you help me with the laces?” Maela said. ”I think we’ve kept Ash waiting long enough...”