The Vampire & Her Witch

”Easy lass,” Sybyll said, tapping the table with a loud -THUNK- to get the Oak Witch’s attention. ”I know it’s rotten. Me own uncle drank ’imself ta death ’fore I could kill ’im,” she said bitterly. ”He didn’a suffer enough by half ’fore he died. But dead is dead, an’ dead by ’is own son’s hand is a bad way ta go. Nightweaver venom isn’a a kind way ta go neither,” she reminded the brooding witch.

”Virve,” Heila said, reaching out gently to rest a hand on the bearish woman’s furry forearm. ”He might linger on for months if the humans send their miracle workers to care for him,” she offered, even though the odds were poor for a man of Bors Lothian’s advancing age. ”And Dame Sybyll is right, the poison will only grow more painful once the madness takes hold. Even if he doesn’t fall under your claws he, he won’t meet a peaceful end. He’ll suffer for what he did.”

”Aarrgg, I know,” Virve grumbled. ”I want to tear him limb from limb for what he did, but I’m not so cruel that I’d poison him to watch him writhe for months. I just wish I could look into his eyes once before he dies. I want him to regret tearing my family apart with his petty war for gold and jewels... But there are others still with our blood on their hands,” she said as she clenched her fists. ”I’ll just have to make do with them.”

”You’ll get your chance for that, Virve,” Ashlynn said as she strode into the great hall. ”And soon.”

Everyone sitting around the table stood as Ashlynn strode toward a seat at the front of the large square table. For Heila and Virve, it was the first time they’d seen her since Ashlynn had learned the truth of who betrayed her and for others, they hadn’t laid eyes on the powerful Mother of Trees since the betrothal ceremony when she’d stood before them as a radiant maiden filled with love for Lady Nyrielle.

But the Ashlynn who entered the great hall now was neither the vision of love and devotion they’d seen a week ago, nor the shattered and distraught woman who had brought down a tempest in her grief and outrage at her sister’s betrayal. Instead, she walked with a heavy, determined gait, as if she were a mighty cypress tree that had hardened her layers of defenses in order to weather the storm.

”Your Dominion,” Thane said formally, saluting with his hand forming a claw over his heart in the Eldritch style as he bowed. Around the table, the four commanders and Nyrielle’s progeny mirrored the gesture, along with Virve and Ollie, while Heila offered a simpler curtsy even though she wanted nothing more than to dash over to Ashlynn’s side and wrap her arms around her lady in a fierce hug.

For a moment, Ashlynn looked at the pair of thrones on the dais and debated about taking her seat there. The dark throne with its back carved to resemble feathered wings was a comforting reminder of Nyrielle’s presence, even though her lover had stepped back to allow Ashlynn to command the forces of the Vale, just as she’d promised she would at their betrothal ceremony.

But, while taking her own seat on the pale throne carved to resemble the trunk and crown of a mighty cedar tree would have sent a clear message about her authority, it also would have felt too distant from the people she considered to be her family as well as her allies.

This was a meeting of her coven, Nyrielle’s progeny, and their commanders, and sitting high above them would have felt like she was shutting them out rather than turning to them for help when she needed their strength.

So, instead of ascending to her throne, she took her seat at the head of the table. When she did, her emerald eyes were clear and focused, looking at each of the people attending the meeting with a sharp gaze that held the promise of violence.

”I’ve read Marcel’s report,” Ashlynn said as she gestured for everyone to sit. ”Before, I expected that we would spend much of the winter drawing them slowly into a trap that they couldn’t escape, but now,” she said, trailing off as she took a deep breath.

”Now, I am no longer content to wait,” Ashlynn said as she met each of their eyes.

She had spent several days thinking about how she should handle Jocelynn as she poured out her pain and her fury in violent clashes of steel with Sybyll. She’d also talked with the crimson-haired vampire at length during the times when they both needed to catch their breath and regather their strength.

Still, it wasn’t until she read that Owain had poisoned his own father that her thoughts and feelings about how to handle Jocelynn truly crystallized for her. She still didn’t know if she could ever forgive her younger sister for the betrayal, but she would never forgive herself if she let Owain do to Jocelynn what he had tried to do to her on their wedding night.

Jocelynn was all but alone in Lothian Mano,r and the Confessor at her side, their distant cousin Eleanor, had already admitted to Isabell that she and the Church could do little to guarantee Jocey’s safety. Since that was the case, Ashlynn would take matters into her own hands, much more swiftly than she’d originally planned.

There would be time to confront her sister once Owain was dead and Jocey was safely at her side. Until then, nothing else Jocelynn had done mattered.

”Thane once said that the fifth pillar of strength in the Vale of Mists was the group gathered here,” Ashlynn said as she looked at the people who had come to mean more to her in half a year than she’d ever imagined possible. A year ago, she’d never dreamed that there would be a group of people she would risk her life for... or that she would ask that very group of people to do the same for her.

”Now, I need all of your help,” she said earnestly. ”Because I intend to see the Lothians fall before year’s end!”