The Vampire & Her Witch

Loghlan’s question hung in the air for only a moment before the tent flap was pulled aside and the first of his knights arrived, saving Ollie from having to offer an awkward explanation of who, exactly, had trained him in the etiquette of knighthood.

”Lord Loghlan, Lady Mairwen,” came a booming voice as a broad-shouldered man in his early forties stepped into the tent, his weathered face breaking into a wide grin when his eyes landed on Liam. The rich rust-red wool of his tunic marked him as a man of considerable means, as did the heavy rings on his fingers and the glittering pendant hanging from his chest, making Ollie glad for the first time that he’d taken Hauke’s advice to acquire a few ornaments of his own.

”And young Lord Liam! Thank the Light you’re safe, lad,” the well-dressed man continued. ”We were beginning to fear the worst.”

Ollie rose from his seat as the knight entered, standing respectfully as Liam greeted the newcomer.

”Sir Brennus Thorne,” Liam said warmly, mostly for Ollie’s benefit as he moved to welcome the knight with a firm handshake. ”It’s good to see you too. I’m sorry to have worried everyone.”

”Worried?” Sir Brennus laughed, the sound rich and hearty as he clapped Liam on the shoulder with enough force to make the young lord stagger slightly. ”Boy, we’ve had scouts combing every sheep trail and deer path between here and your home for days. Your mother’s been organizing search parties like we were mounting a campaign.”

”Because we were mounting a campaign,” came a woman’s voice from behind Sir Brennus, warm with affection despite the mild rebuke. A handsome woman in her late thirties entered the tent, her dark hair adorned with a simple silver hairpin and pulled back in a practical braid. ”A campaign to find our lord’s missing son, which is exactly what any sensible person would do.”

”My wife, Lady Rhiannon,” Sir Brennus said, placing his arm affectionately around her waist as he introduced her to the newcomer who had arrived with Liam. ”And our children: Cadeyrn, Morwen, and young Taliesin.”

The family filed in as he spoke. The eldest son, Cadeyrn, was a sturdy youth of perhaps fifteen with his father’s broad build and his mother’s shrewd eyes. He bowed respectfully to the baron and baroness, keeping one hand on the hilt of his belt knife and the other tucked behind his back in a display of etiquette that made it clear he’d taken his duties as a squire seriously.

The young man waited to receive a brief nod from his father before moving to take a seat at the second table, grateful that he wouldn’t be expected to stand behind his father’s chair during the meal to pour wine and fetch dishes.

His sister Morwen, a girl of sixteen with her mother’s dark hair and a face that was just beginning to lose its childhood softness, offered a more graceful curtsy, though her eyes kept darting toward Liam with barely concealed relief and a hint of something else, something that made Mairwen hide a knowing smile behind her hand.

Young Taliesin, who couldn’t have been more than eleven, seemed more interested in staring openly at Ollie than in observing the proper courtesies, though he did remember to bow before scurrying to the second table with his older brother.

”And look who we found lurking outside,” Sir Brennus continued, stepping aside to allow another knight to enter. ”Sir Padraig Wyndan and his lovely family.”

Sir Padraig was a lanky man in his late thirties with the lean build of someone who spent more time on horseback than anywhere else. He wore a tunic of warm yellow wool that seemed to catch the warm light of the lamps in the tent, making him appear almost cheerful despite the serious cast to his weathered features.

His wife, Lady Seren, was a small, energetic woman who immediately went to Mairwen’s side to embrace her, whispering something that made the baroness laugh softly.

”Well met, Sir Padraig,” Ollie said as he stepped forward, offering a respectful bow to Sir Padraig, who clasped his shoulder in a friendly grip when he noticed Ollie tucking one foot behind the other as he clasped the other man’s forearm, performing a junior knight’s courtesy that few of the rough and tumble frontier knights would ever lower themselves enough to perform before their seniors.

”Good lad,” Sir Padraig said with a warm smile as he appraised the sturdy young knight who seemed as solid as an oak tree when he clapped him on the shoulder. ”These are our boys, Idris and Bran,” the older knight said, gesturing to two youths who looked to be about fourteen and thirteen respectively, ”and our daughter Eira.”

Eira was perhaps seventeen, tall and willowy with her father’s lanky build and her mother’s bright, intelligent eyes. She had her blonde hair gathered in an intricate braid that must have taken considerable time to arrange, and when she curtsied to the baron and baroness, there was a practiced grace to the movement that suggested she’d been preparing for courts and formal occasions for some time.

”Lady Mairwen,” Eira said softly, ”would it be acceptable if I sat at the high table this evening? I know it’s presumptuous, but I would so love to hear about Lord Liam’s adventures, and I’m sure the view of the conversation will be much better from there.”

There was nothing subtle about the way Lady Seren caught Mairwen’s eye with a hopeful expression, nor the way Sir Padraig suddenly seemed very interested in adjusting his sword belt. Even Sir Brennus was grinning in a way that suggested he knew exactly what was happening.

”Of course, dear,” Mairwen said graciously, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. ”I think there’s a seat right next to Liam that would be perfect for you.”

Eira’s face lit up as she moved to take the indicated seat, and though she kept her expression demure, the shy glances she cast toward Liam as she settled in made her feelings abundantly clear.

Liam, for his part, offered her a warm smile and a polite greeting, though Ollie noticed that the young lord seemed to be preparing himself for a challenging evening in much the same way that Ollie prepared for a challenging round of training with Sir Marcel or Sir Thane. Clearly, there was history here, but the Liam who had returned from the Battle of Hanrahan wasn’t the same Liam who had gone to visit Lothian with his family’s tithe earlier this month.

If Sir Hugo was to be believed, Liam had already set his sights higher, and few living women could compete with the immortal perfection of Dame Sybyll Hanrahan...