The Vampire & Her Witch

Micheline gave up.

She’d done her best to keep up with the wave of introductions that followed the arrival of High Inquisitor Ignatious and the man named Thane, who no one bothered to mention was the General of the Armies of the Bloodroot Empire until she’d asked if he was the captain of Nyrielle’s guard, the way the Oak Witch seemed to hold that position for Ashlynn.

He didn’t seem bothered that she’d made the mistake, and he’d very politely introduced her to Lennart, who actually held that position, along with Zedya, whose position as Nyrielle’s ’handmaiden’ seemed almost as important as Thane’s position as a general, though no one explained why.

It was when she met Nyrielle’s executioner, Dame Sybyll, who was actually a Lord Governor despite using a knight’s title, that the cracks started to form in Micheline’s emerging model of power in Ashlynn’s world.

More and more she was coming to realize that no one was entirely what they seemed. Many of Nyrielle’s progeny were of the same age as her maternal grandmother, or even older. Only Grandma Barna was white-haired with wrinkled, withered skin and stooped shoulders, while Dame Sybyll looked to be, at most, a year or two older than Micheline herself!

And the power these people wielded went far beyond their titles and positions. Ignatious, before he’d become one of Nyrielle’s progeny, dueled Thane with a Holy Flame Blade in his hand and a dozen Inquisitors at his back, plus a full company of the Temple Guard... and it was Ignatious who said that he was lucky to have survived after losing more than half their men.

Against one man!

The cracks in her worldview only grew wider when Sir Ollie returned at the head of a long line of impressively dressed people who would be watching the evening’s events from the Imperial box.

Thankfully, like a guardian sent from the Heavens, Lady Morwen returned along with those guests, taking her place smoothly at Micheline’s side to give her a running introduction to people entering the box.

”That’s Lord Governor Loghlan Dunn, formerly Baron Dunn, his wife Mairwen and their son, Lord Commander Liam,” Morwen said helpfully as the trio entered.

”What exactly is a Lord Governor?” Micheline asked, still not following the unfamiliar titles. ”Does he have the same status as Dame Sybyll?”

”His territory is as large as hers,” Morwen acknowledged. ”My father is one of his vassals. A Lord Governor is kind of like a count, but he has a seat at the High Table, which is sort of like the Duke’s Ruling Council, only much larger, so it isn’t really the same.”

”And his son, Liam, commands the army within his territory, but his army answers to the empresses, not to his father, so that’s different too,” she said, failing to notice Micheline struggling to track everything as she went on to point out the next group to arrive.

”And that’s Lord Governor Erling Fayle,” Morwen said. ”And his mother, Lady Magistrate Ragna, along with Lord Gardener Wes Iriso and Lady Sorcha,” she continued. ”Lord Erling is one of the champions fighting tonight, but I don’t see the others yet.”

”Lady Magistrate?” Micheline said, frowning at the title. ”You mean to say she holds her own title, separate from her husband’s?”

”Her husband fell long ago, in the War of Inches,” Morwen said delicately. ”But it’s as you say, she holds her own title, bestowed in recognition of the fairmindedness she demonstrated while serving as Erling’s regent.”

”Her position isn’t higher than her son’s, and she’s expected to hold trials and dispense justice on his behalf, but many ladies have been talking about applying for positions in the empire to receive a title of their own. Empress Ashlynn even promised that anyone qualified would be considered, even if it was for a position higher than the one their husbands held,” she said, smiling proudly.

”The lords can’t be fond of that,” Micheline mused, trying to imagine how her father would respond if her mother suddenly sought an appointment to the Royal Court. Confused, certainly. Perhaps even betrayed if her new duties would pull them apart.

While her father traveled routinely within Keating and occasionally beyond its borders, he rarely went as far away as Gaalen. If her mother left to pursue a position so far away, she imagined her father would be... very lonely. And hurt.

”I think the lords all have very different opinions about it,” Morwen said carefully. ”My father is very proud of me for following Empress Ashlynn, and Eira’s family is proud of her too. But some are worried about what will happen when we start attending Empress Ashlynn’s Imperial Academy in the fall.”

”That’s different though,” Micheline said as she continued to watch guests arrive. ”It’s normal for parents to want to see their children rise higher. That’s why my father sent me to the Royal Academy. He wanted to make connections there and smooth the way for my brother to enter Prince Henri’s service,” she said, her voice growing slightly wistful as she thought about the life she’d left behind in Gaalen when she returned home.

”Did it work?” Morwen asked, unable to hold herself back from the sudden spike in curiosity. ”Did you meet the crown prince? What’s he like?”

”Prince Henri?” Micheline said. ”He’s a gentleman and a scholar, and a capable duelist too. Um, he’s handsome I suppose, but not as handsome as they say he is. No one is as handsome as they say the princes are,” she said, thinking of the more outlandish descriptions of the royal family that she’d heard before her eyes drifted across the hall to the man called Thane.

”No one human is as handsome as they say the princes are,” Micheline corrected herself. ”When it comes to people like General Thane or Empress Nyrielle,” she said, her voice trailing off as she looked at not only the other vampires, but the witches as well. ”I don’t know that any rumor would ever do them justice...”

”I see,” Morwen said. A small smile blossomed on her lips as she considered teasing Micheline about the way her eyes seemed to linger on General Thane and Dame Sybyll, but before she could say anything, there was a commotion at the door that drew the attention of the entire room.

”Who is that?” Micheline asked, hoping that the quartet that had just entered didn’t take offense at the way she stared at them.

”That’s Dirar, Lord of the Blood for the Southern Steppe,” Morwen said in as quiet a voice as she could manage. ”It looks like he’s finally ready to present his champions...”