The Vampire & Her Witch

For a moment, the air between the two brothers grew incomparably thick and heavy as they stared at each other in silence.

Anyone chancing upon them, even if they didn’t know either of the men, would instantly recognize them as brothers. Both possessed the same chestnut hair, the same graceful and refined features with smooth jaws, well-shaped lips, and subtle brows. If a sculptor had shaped them both from clay, then he’d clearly used the same mold.

But from that same mold, countless differences emerged. Owain wore his hair much shorter to accommodate his helm when he donned armor, while Loman wore his long, tied back in a neat, scholarly tail with a silk ribbon that matched his tunic. Both men were tall, but Loman’s figure was slender and graceful, whereas Owain’s radiated the strength and power that flowed from his sculpted, muscular physique.

Most telling of all, however, were their eyes as they regarded each other from a few paces away. Owain’s brown eyes felt as hard as flint, and even here in the deepest part of Lothian Manor, they seemed to twitch every few seconds as he habitually watched his surroundings for hidden dangers. Loman’s eyes, however, even though they were nearly the same shade of brown, were open wider, calmly observing the man before him and giving his brother his full, undivided attention.

”I’m still a priest, Owain,” Loman finally said with a heavy sigh. ”I haven’t forsaken the cloth or my oaths. But Father,” he said helplessly, gesturing at his exquisitely tailored tunic and cloak. ”Father wants it to be clear that I’m helping him with the barons as his son, and not as a representative of the Church.”

”Don’t lie to me, Brother,” Owain said, pushing off the stone wall with his foot and striding across the hall until his face was only inches away from Loman’s. ”You aren’t any good at it, so don’t waste your breath. I know father’s been talking about marrying you off, so you can stop pretending that this is just for appearances,” he said, plucking at Loman’s tunic.

”Brother,” Loman protested. ”I don’t know what you...”

”Charlotte Otker,” Owain said sharply, leaning in close enough to force his brother to take half a step back as he stared in the other man’s eyes. ”I can’t believe Father thinks so little of you that he would force you to court that fat sow of a woman. Or is it because you’ve given everything you have to the Church your entire life that you need to marry a rich hog to suckle at her father’s teats in order to fund your belated thirst for power?”

”How did you...” Loman started to say, his eyes going wide before realization dawned a moment later. ”Lady Jocelynn,” the young priest guessed. ”She heard about my lunch with Baron Otker and Lady Charlotte yesterday.”

”Of course she heard,” Owain said, turning away from his brother in disgust and returning to the opposite wall, leaning against it and regarding his brother as though he were an utter fool. ”A lesson for you, Loman, since you’re ignorant in the ways of women.”

”Give a woman a little bit of attention,” Owain said, holding up his thumb and forefinger less than an inch apart. ”Just a tiny bit of affection or praise from the son of a Marquis and every woman, from common whores to the daughters of counts and barons, will be filled with so much pride and excitement that they’ll rush to tell their friends, even if they know they shouldn’t.”

Owain had been surprised at how much Jocelynn had been able to learn by hosting the visiting young ladies for tea anytime the visiting knights or barons brought their daughters with them. As the daughter of a count, Jocelynn held the highest status in the entire march when it came to gatherings of young ladies, and there wasn’t a single one of the young girls who hadn’t been giddy to receive her invitation.

Of course, Jocelynn might not always understand which pieces of gossip were useful to Owain and which ones weren’t, but she happily told him everything she’d learned each night. Once he’d heard it all, he would patiently explain to her which things were important to learn more about and which things she shouldn’t bother herself with.

It was time consuming to listen to young women’s gossip, but it had produced some surprising nuggets of gold, like the fact that Bors Lothian was discussing marriage options with his vassals and their daughters, and that he always brought Loman along when he did.

”You gave that fat hog hope, Brother dear,” Owain sneered. ”You made her think that she was special enough, lucky enough, rich enough, and important enough to discuss her marriage options with a son of Lothian. I’m amazed that Father could stomach the insult,” he said with a trace of bitterness coloring his voice. ”But then, if Father needs to whore you out to his own vassals, maybe I should consider it a sign that he’s given up on you. Mother must be...”

”That’s enough, Owain,” Loman said sharply, interrupting his brother before the older man could say another word. His face had grown several shades darker as Owain heaped insults on Lady Charlotte, but he only exploded when Owain started to imply that their mother wouldn’t approve of Bors and Loman’s actions.

”Charlotte is a gentle lady who spends most of her time caring for her grandmother and great uncle,” Loman said, leaping to the young lady’s defense. ”She’s kind, compassionate, and she spends almost as much time as I do tending to the needs of the poor and the broken within her father’s domain. I won’t hear her insulted!”

”Oh, so you like them big,” Owain said with a mocking smile. ”I had no idea that my darling brother had developed such.. Heavy tastes. But really, Brother, if you’re going to forsake your vows to contend for the throne, at least let your older brother do you a favor before you make a horrible mistake. I know a discreet brothel where...”

”I said that’s enough, Owain!” Loman said as his face heated in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. ”You must have been waiting here for quite some time, so what is it that you want?” Loman asked, visibly trembling and clenching his fists as he fought to regain control of his anger.

In the temple, almost nothing could push him to the point of shouting, but when it came to his brother’s needling words, he felt as helpless as an unarmored and unarmed farmer on the battlefield. Before, when he was safely ensconced in the walls of the Church and cared little for his brother’s ambitions, it would have been easier to let Owain’s offhand insults roll off him, like water off the back of a duck.

But now, for the first time that Loman could remember, Owain’s insults held real heat and sharpness that cut at Loman’s own insecurities. For the first time, Loman felt a faint thread of genuine fear as he faced his brother’s mocking tone, and he wondered if there would be a fist to follow the cutting words if he couldn’t regain some ground against his brother.

Of course, that faint thread of fear didn’t escape Owain’s gaze as the corner of his lips raised in a menacing smirk. He’d clearly accomplished at least one of his objectives, now, he just needed to press a little harder to get the rest...