The Vampire & Her Witch

A light rain fell across Lothian City, washing away the last, lingering signs of the previous week’s Harvest Festival celebrations. Soon, the rainy season would begin in earnest, and the people of Lothian March would spend days at a time under a sky covered by a wet, gray blanket of clouds, rarely seeing the sun.

Across the march, demons would grow bolder, raiding farms for livestock or striking at poorly defended villages in the hopes of causing as much devastation as they could while defenders huddled in their homes and around fires to ward off the damp chills of the season.

In the summer, Lothian March resembled a lush paradise and its soldiers fought freely beneath the sun like the anointed champions of the Holy Lord of Light. But in the fall and winter, the demons fought back with the ferocity and tenaciousness of wolves and the world itself seemed to aid them with constant storms and long, cold nights.

”This will be your first winter in the Frontier, Lady Jocelynn,” Marquis Bors Lothian said, turning away from the window to look at his guest for the evening while servants covered the dining table with several courses worth of food. ”Are you prepared to weather the storm?”

”The winter squalls in Blackwell County can be very fierce, my Lord,” Jocelynn said from her place next to the crackling hearth in the small, private dining room. ”I not worried about myself,” she added. ”But I am worried about my sister. She should give birth by year’s end, but she has always been weak and frail of constitution, rarely leaving her room in the winter months. I’m afraid that this winter will be especially hard on her.”

”Then it’s good that she has such a dedicated sister to care for her,” Bors said calmly, though it took a measure of effort to keep impatience out of his voice while two of the servants fussed over the placement of large trays of roast boar and venison sausages.

If it had been any other occasion, he would have chased them out by now to enjoy a quiet meal with his guest, but tonight, it was important that the ’audience’ heard the things that he and Jocelynn would say. After all, the gossip that would spread among the servants after this conversation was the first of his many goals for inviting the young Blackwell girl here tonight.

”I thank you for leaving the Summer Villa to help prepare for my son’s return from Blackwell County,” Bors continued, speaking more for the audience than for Jocelynn. ”I hope you’re satisfied with the protection we’ve provided for your sister during her stay? With so many soldiers, even if the demons were to attack, they would only be courting their own deaths.”

”The defenses are more than adequate,” Jocelynn said with a smile, giving a slight curtsey of thanks. ”I know it pains my sister that she cannot return to give birth in Lothian City but the physicians say that she shouldn’t be moved because her constitution is just too frail.”

”Then it’s even better that she has such a devoted sister to take up her duties in Lothian City when Owain returns in a few days,” Bors said, striding across the small dining room to take a seat at the head of the table.

”You may go,” he told the servants, waving them off before he lost his patience with the excessive fussing. Normally, they weren’t this bad, but it seemed like several of them were worried about Jocelynn’s ability to carry out her duties during this meal and they’d surreptitiously been trying to ’help’ the young noblewoman on her first meal with her sister’s father-in-law. ”The things that Lady Jocelynn and I have to discuss tonight concern the march, the conversation is more important than the food,” he reminded them.

”Of course, my Lord,” one of the servants said, looking embarrassed that he’d been caught trying to ’help’ the beautiful Lady Jocelynn. If he were honest, just the sight of her flowing blonde hair and the grace she carried herself with was enough for him to entertain wild fantasies of forbidden love between a young noblewoman and a commoner and he’d hoped to make some impression on her tonight but...

Such things were only flights of fancy after all, he realized. The entire time he’d been arranging things, the younger sister of their absent future Marchioness hadn’t looked away from the warm glow of the crackling hearth even once.

Now, as servants took the last of their serving trays and other tools away, they cast one last, furtive glance at the radiant beauty from the sea. They firmly fixed her delicate, youthful features in their minds, perhaps to ponder on in more private moments of idle fantasy, before bowing out of the room and leaving their lord to discuss important matters.

Outside, the wind howled, rattling the window and driving sheets of rain against the glass. Even the fire in the hearth momentarily bowed under the pressure of the wind whistling through the chimney before flaring up brighter as if to deny the dark, cold storm that raged outside.

”I assume you know your duties?” Bors said, his voice losing its warmth as he watched the blonde temptress cross the dining room to join him at the table. Now that the servants weren’t present and no one would intrude for at least an hour, he saw no reason to be more courteous than necessary with the woman who had clearly wrapped his eldest son around her fingers.

”Of course, father-in-law,” Jocelynn said with a brilliant smile. With practiced ease, she selected a long carving knife from the assortments on the table and began to carve thin slices from the roast boar, piling them up on Bors Lothian’s plate without allowing so much as a drop of the rich, fatty juices to fall onto the table as she served him.

As the second daughter of a count, she had rarely been in a position that required her to take the role of servant in gatherings where common folks were forbidden but her mother had insisted she learn, regardless of her actual need. Now, she silently thanked her mother’s forethought as she transitioned seamlessly from serving roasted boar to buttery squash and plump venison sausages, filling the Marquis’ plate before placing so much as a morsel on her own dish.

”It’s still a bit early to call me ’father-in-law’ don’t you think?” Bors said, spearing a thick sausage with his knife and gesturing for her to serve herself. ”As far as the world knows, your sister is still alive, holed up in the summer villa and preparing to give birth to Owain’s heir.”

”What the world knows and what we know are not the same,” Jocelynn replied smoothly, taking a seat at her own plate filled mostly with vegetables and a leg of a wild grouse. The people of the Frontier led harder lives than she realized and their meals were not only generous in portions compared to Blackwell County but rich in butter and fats as well.

Within a month of coming here, she’d found her dresses growing snug and quickly realized that without discipline about her diet, she would resemble a trading galleon by the time Owain returned. The thought of becoming plump enough to float across the sea and losing Owain’s adoration terrified her so much that she’d taken to strolling through the forest outside the summer villa with a full complement of guards, just to ensure she could keep herself reasonably trim.

Unfortunately, with the onset of the rainy season, not even the Templars who had accompanied her from Blackwell County were willing to venture into the forests for a stroll in the wilderness, forcing her to be even more careful about what she ate while she was confined to the grounds of the small Summer Villa.

”Lord Owain will be returning soon,” Jocelynn said after helping herself to a portion of wilted greens. ”Once he does, you’ll see how well we complement each other. I know you still have doubts, father-in-law, but I promise you, I’m nothing like my older sister. I will not lead Lord Owain astray,” she said pointedly.

”And hasn’t my advice been useful in concluding the preliminary negotiations with the merchant guilds?” Jocelynn asked with a bright smile. ”I promise, I’ll do everything I can to help Owain turn Lothian March into Lothian Duchy, and we’ll do it fast enough that you’ll live to see the day done.”

”Speaking like that, you’ll curse me to an early grave, woman,” Bors spat, making a gesture with his hand to ward off evil and misfortune. He might not be as devout as his son Loman, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t cautious about things that could become ill omens. ”But I’m pleased that you’re willing to commit yourself to Lothian March and our long overdue elevation,” he said as he forced himself to restrain his temper.

”What I want to know,” the aging Marquis asked, pointing at Jocelynn with the point of his knife. ”Is if you’re committed to Lothian March and its future, or if you’re committed to my son Owain and his ambitions?”

”Isn’t it the same?” Jocelynn asked, blinking in surprise at the way her future father-in-law had framed the question. ”Owain is the future of Lothian March and he carries the ambition of all Lothians since the founding of the march, to vanquish the neighboring demon lords and establish a proper duchy.”

”But what if Owain isn’t the future of the march?” Bors asked bluntly. ”Loman intends to contest for my throne, and after spending the summer fighting against the demons with young Liam Dunn, he’s proving himself to be a worthy contender.”

”So,” Bors asked, spearing a sausage and tearing into it, savoring the rich, fatty juices and the sharp spices along with the shocked and horrified expression blossoming on the young Blackwell girl’s face. ”Tell me, Lady Jocelynn. Are you committed to marrying Owain and helping him achieve his ambitions? Or are you willing to marry whichever of my sons I designate as my heir, and use your talents to help them achieve our dream?”