The Vampire & Her Witch

”Lady Jocelynn,” Gilander said, bowing deeply to the young woman who had clearly suffered greatly since the arrival of the Inquisitor.

Gilander hadn’t heard the full story, and he doubted he ever would. But when he left Lord Owain’s office in search of Captain Albyn, the entire manor had been abuzz with whispers about Lady Jocelynn emerging from the dungeons, dressed as a commoner and escorting the body of Confessor Eleanor.

Gilander was a simple man, loyal to his lord, his wife and the Holy Lord of Light, and he’d never cared for the sorts of schemes that took root in higher levels of the aristocracy, but even someone as straightforward as him could understand that, whatever Percivus had been up to, it clearly went far beyond any mandate that Lord Bors would have handed down if he’d been in his right mind.

As soon as he’d heard that Confessor Eleanor had died in the dungeons, Gilander had abandoned his orders to have Captain Albyn capture Inquisitor Percivus and he went searching for the man himself. The only thing he had to show for his search, however, was news that Percivus had ’returned to Maeril to confer with his abbot about information gleaned from the prisoners.’

The guards he spoke with, the ones who weren’t recovering from the savage beating that Captain Albyn had given them for barring his way at least, had all confirmed that Percivus visited the dungeons in the morning, but that he never returned after that, and since Percivus and his acolytes were the only ones who brought meals to the prisoners, the guards hadn’t seen so much as a servant bearing food after that.

”I was wrong, Lady Jocelynn,” Gilander said directly, refusing to hide from his responsibility for this tragedy. ”I was upset when your man accused Lord Bors of impropriety, but my lord wronged you deeply that night, both when he attacked you and when he summoned the Inquisition.”

”If I had spoken up,” he said, pursing his lips as his eyes flickered to the funeral pyre that was hauntingly similar to the one that would soon welcome his Lord Bors. ”If I had spoken up on your behalf, then many tragedies might have been prevented. I failed you, and I failed Lord Bors that night, and I’m very sorry for your loss. I never came to know her, but from the way she protected you, I’m certain that Confessor Eleanor was a good woman and the world is a darker place without her light.”

”Thank you, Sir Gilander,” Jocelynn said, taking a deep breath and relaxing her hands that had curled into fists. It was impossible for her to accept his apology, or at least it was impossible right now. But no matter how much she wanted to lash out on him, she refused to do so here and now.

If there was anything she’d learned during her time in the Lothian dungeons it was how to hold her tongue. A single careless word, an incredulous snort or a bitter clicking of the tongue would have been excuse enough for the acolytes serving Percivus to withhold a portion of her already meager meals, or to take away the heater from her cell.

So, no matter how much it hurt to swallow things down yet again, she held back the sharp, aggrieved words that yearned to erupt from her chest while she did her best to encourage Gilander to leave her in peace.

”I’m sure my cousin appreciates your words,” Jocelynn said as politely as she could manage. ”But this is a private gathering, Sir Gilander. Unless you or Lord Bors have business here, please allow us to say goodbye in peace.”

”I’m sorry, my Lady,” Gilander said awkwardly. ”But, I’m afraid I do have business, on Lord Owain’s orders. I need to speak with High Priest Aubin, and your man Captain Albyn as well. If you’d like,” he added in what he likely thought of as an olive branch. ”You can accompany your man as well. The news I’ve brought cannot wait, but I’m sure that Lord Owain wouldn’t want mind if you heard it now as well.”

”It’s just,” Gilander said hesitantly, glancing at the knights, servants and people from Blackwell who had gathered in the dark of night in the middle of a hailstorm in order to pay respects to the fallen Confessor. Already, he’d blundered by mentioning the fall of the Summer Villa where attentive ears could overhear, and he wasn’t about to do so again.

”It’s just that, I really must share this news in private,” he explained.

”I won’t leave her,” Jocelynn said firmly, looking back at the pyre that was still burning vigorously. It would take hours for the flames to burn down, and Jocelynn intended to say until the last of the flames guttered out. ”But you may ask Captain Albyn if he’s willing to go,” she offered when she saw the pained look on Sir Gilander’s face. ”I will not compel him, but you may ask.”

”I’ll go,” Albyn said before Gilander could even ask. He wanted to remain at Jocelynn’s side. It was clear, just from watching her struggling to speak during the lighting of the pyre, that she had yet to fully emerge from the Lothian dungeons. Perhaps a part of her never would. So as a man who had pledged himself to her service, or even just as a man who couldn’t stand back and leave a woman to suffer when he could do anything to help, he wanted to stay close in order to offer his support.

But Albyn had long ago learned to watch the shifting currents and changing tides among the nobility, and Gilander’s presence here, acting on Lord Owain’s orders no less, marked a significant shift in the Lothian court. If Gilander had come on Bors’ orders, Albyn might have refused, using the private funeral as a reason to snub the Lothian Marquis for his mistreatment of Lady Jocelynn.

Sir Gilander arriving on Owain’s orders, however, was a different matter altogether.

”Thank you,” Jocelynn said, accepting Albyn’s offer with a ghost of the smile she’d once possessed. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give the veteran sailor hope that, given time, she would be able to emerge from the darkness of that dungeon...