The Vampire & Her Witch

The bedroom was warm when they returned from the bath, wrapped in the soft towels that Ashlynn had left warming by the hearth before Nyrielle woke. The fire had burned down to glowing embers while they bathed, but embers were exactly what she needed for some of their cooking.

”I’ll tend the fire tonight,” Ashlynn said, reaching out with a wrought iron scoop on a long handle to briefly rearrange the coals into piles where she’d need to cook things before adding a log to the hearth where it quickly began to pop and crackle, adding a bit more of the warm, golden glow to the room along with its warmth.

”Thank you,” Nyrielle said with a relieved look. She wouldn’t say that she was afraid of reaching into the fire the way she’d seen Ashlynn, Ollie, and even Georg do on countless occasions, but of all the injuries she’d ever suffered, the ones from fires had been the worst. They’d taken the longest to heal, been the most painful, and remained one of the few things that made her feel as though she might die.

It felt silly that the hearth in her own bed chambers should make her feel so hesitant, but when it came to cooking, especially when she was sharing such a lovely evening with Ashlynn, she was relieved that the other woman had volunteered to be the one tending the flames.

The ingredients Ashlynn had gathered earlier were arranged on the low table before the hearth, everything they’d need for the evening’s meal laid out like an artist’s palette waiting to be transformed into something beautiful.

There was a slab of boar belly with a thick bit of fat on one side and generous marbling through the dark meat. Several root vegetables still carried the faintest traces of garden soil despite scrubbing, making it clear that they had been freshly collected from the winter gardens. A whole pheasant, already plucked and dressed, sat next to small crocks of dried berries and walnuts for stuffing.

It looked like Ashlynn also intended to bake something, Nyrielle realized as her midnight eyes flicked over the growing list of ingredients. Butter wrapped in waxed cloth and a sack of finely milled flour sat next to a small wheel of sharp, aged goat cheese and a handful of apples that still held their autumn sweetness despite the winter cold.

”You’ve been planning this,” Nyrielle observed with a pleased smile as she took in the spread, her midnight blue eyes lighting with genuine delight. ”This is more than just dinner, my darling. This is a feast.”

”It’s nothing grand,” Ashlynn said with a touch of habitual humility, though she couldn’t quite hide her own satisfied smile. ”Just... small portions of different flavors. I know you like variety, and I thought we could make something special together. Something that’s just for us,” she added, padding across the floor to stand next to the vampire and giving her a brief, affectionate kiss on the cheek.

”You don’t mind, do you?” Ashlynn said, briefly uncertain. ”If you want to do less cooking tonight...”

”Why would I want to do less of anything with you, my darling?” Nyrielle asked, gently stroking Ashlynn’s pale blond hair before bestowing a gentle kiss of her own on the younger woman’s brow. ”I was just impressed by how... ambitious it felt. The last time I cooked for you, I burned the bread,” she said ruefully.

”And I took Georg’s advice to make things that were less sensitive to being left on the hearth for the exact right amount of time,” she added, admitting that the friendly cook had helped her to plan the meal around her own deficiencies in managing the hearth. ”You’re sure this isn’t too much for you to mind by the hearth all at once?”

”It’s fine,” Ashlynn said with a playful smile, giving Nyrielle a reassuring hug as she looked over the ingredients. ”Trust me, you’ll see. It looks like more work than it is,” she added before capturing Nyrielle’s hand and pulling her off to the side.

Ashlynn led Nyrielle to the wardrobe where she’d left their evening clothes warming by the fire’s edge, the simple chocolate brown skirt and green poet-sleeved blouse for herself, along with the playful midnight blue ruffled skirt and deep burgundy blouse for Nyrielle.

They dressed together in comfortable silence, occasionally stealing glances at each other in the firelight, and when they were ready, Ashlynn gathered her long pale hair back into a loose braid to keep it away from the flames while Nyrielle left hers flowing freely down her back.

”So,” Nyrielle said, rolling up the flowing sleeves of her burgundy blouse as she surveyed the ingredients with the focused attention she usually reserved for studying a blank canvas. ”Where do we begin?”

”Well,” Ashlynn said, moving to kneel by the hearth where she’d already positioned several cast-iron pans and earthenware vessels within easy reach. ”I was thinking that you’re much better with a knife than I am, and you have such a keen eye for details,” she praised. ”If you can help prepare ingredients, I can assemble them into dishes and set them on the fire.”

”We’ll need to start with the onions, since we have to roast them down quite a bit before we work them into the tart,” Ashlynn said, pointing at a pair of large yellow onions near the other root vegetables. ”The dish works better if they’re all sliced the same thickness so they cook evenly,” she added with a bit of challenge in her voice. ”Do you think you can make me a nice pile of slices that are about a third as wide as a gold sovereign?”

”When have I ever refused to give you anything your heart desired, my love?” Nyrielle asked as she picked up the knife and briefly tested the edge against the pad of her thumb before reaching for one of the onions. ”Tonight, my hands are yours to direct, and if what your heart most desires from me is a pile of sliced onions,” she said playfully, tossing an onion lightly in the air and catching it. ”Then a pile of onions you shall have...”