The Vampire & Her Witch

The following morning, Jocelynn watched the sun rising from the windows of her luxurious chambers in Lothian Manor.

The hail storm had ended hours before Eleanor’s pyre burned down, and by the time the sun rose, the skies were clear and blue, with only a few faint clouds lingering over Lothian City to catch the early morning rays of golden light.

After so many days in the darkness of the dungeon, it should have been a beautiful, welcoming dawn, but much like the chill air outside her windows, the sun’s rays did little to bring warmth to the cold, lonely world Jocelynn felt trapped in after Eleanor’s death.

Last night, Captain Albyn had encouraged her to flee, before it was too late. He seemed to genuinely believe that, given an hour or two and a chance to retrieve the chest of gold and silver from her chambers, they could rush an escape and acquire the things they needed to survive once they’d fled.

In a different world, one where Owain was grieving for not only his fallen father, but his lost wife and unborn child, Albyn might have been right. But Jocelynn knew truths that the former sailor still didn’t. She knew that Owain would never grieve for the wife that he’d murdered months ago, just as she was certain that he wasn’t grieving for the father he’d come to resent since Bors began considering naming Loman as his heir.

But most importantly, she knew what Owain planned for her once Ashlynn’s ’death’ was made public. Owain might let someone who was just the sister of his slain wife slip away to quietly return home... but he would never let go of the woman he intended to take as his next bride.

Without the careful preparations they’d been making before Percivus took her prisoner, it would be impossible to flee across the countryside, avoiding the towns and villages where Owain could order men to search for them.

She might have a chest full of gold and silver, but anywhere she tried to spend it, even if she was just trying to buy a loaf of bread or a sack of feed for their horses, she’d be risking an encounter with men whose lords were loyal to Owain.

Whether she fled the instant Albyn gave her the news, or when Eleanor’s pyre finished burning down, or in the morning, it would make no difference. The instant that Bors Lothian died, it became too late for her to flee.

Now, she faced an uncomfortable summons, one she couldn’t run away from no matter how much she wanted to. Owain hadn’t bothered to visit her last night. Whether he’d stayed up waiting only to give up when the bells of the Temple chimed at midnight, or he’d been engrossed in matters relating to his father’s death, Jocelynn didn’t know.

The only thing she knew was that, when she finally returned to the chambers she’d left what seemed like an eternity ago, there was a servant waiting for her with a message that Owain wanted her company for breakfast.

There had been no expression of condolences, no inquiries after her health... just a simple message he would be taking his breakfast in the office that had previously belonged to his father, and he was looking forward to Jocelynn’s company.

”So this is what mother meant when she said to be wary of a man who forgot how to court his wife once the wedding vows were said,” Jocelynn said bitterly as she selected a dress for the breakfast that she wanted nothing to do with.

She might not be married to him yet, but Owain knew it was only a matter of time before she would belong to him. There was no longer any uncertainty in his actions, no need for him to entice her with honeyed words or affectionate gestures. Just a servant, standing at her door, and telling her that Lord Owain expected her company for a meal, first thing in the morning.

She should have been hungry. After so many days in the dungeons, the thought of a luxurious meal, prepared by the manor’s best cooks, should have set her stomach to grumbling and her mouth watering. But the notion of sharing that meal with Owain quashed her appetite before it even had a chance to make an appearance.

She hadn’t gone completely without food since Percivus gave her half a bowl of soup two nights ago. Last night, as the hours grew long, High Priest Aubin had come to sit with her to watch the flames of Eleanor’s pyre burning down. He hadn’t said a word, but he’d brought a cup of warm, creamy, oat porridge, made with sheep’s milk to help make up for the strength her body had lost during her confinement.

It wasn’t until the old priest escorted her back to her carriage, carrying a gilded porcelain urn that contained Eleanor’s ashes, that he finally broke his silence.

”In the days to come, I fear the hardest thing you can do will be to show kindness to yourself,” Aubin said, looking at her with a worried gaze that made him resemble a kind grandfather more than a powerful priest. ”If you find it too difficult to be kind to yourself, then come and visit me. I will make time for you.”

”Why?” Jocelynn asked warily. ”You’ve already done so much for me, why would you go even further?”

”I’ve heard that your father is a skilled negotiator,” Aubin said with a huff that ruffled the edges of his long, white mustache where it blended with his beard. ”This isn’t a thing that can be measured in profit and loss, Lady Jocelynn.”

”I could say that the Church owes you a debt for what you’ve suffered,” he said as his gentle eyes met her wounded, wary gaze directly. ”I could say that it’s because you carry a special blessing, bestowed by Confessor Eleanor and the Holy Lord of Light. I could say it’s because the Church will come to rely on you and your family in the days to come when the Holy War begins. All of those things are true, and many more besides,” he admitted.

”But those aren’t my concerns,” he said as he placed an aged, withered hand atop hers. ”I’m old. There isn’t much left that I can do to care for the Holy Lord of Light’s children in this life. But you’re hurting, and even though I cannot take the hurt from your heart, I can at least give you a measure of kindness until you can remember how to be kind to yourself...”