The Vampire & Her Witch

”I wonder if both lords would be willing to accept my terms...”

In the Great Hall, most eyes fell on Tybal Aleese when Ashlynn asked her question. After all, it was his life that hung in the balance.

Sweat beaded on his brow and his wife, Peigi, clutched his hand tightly as he grappled with how he could respond to this. Briefly, Peigi glanced at Lady, or rather, Princess Jocelynn, hoping that her small friendship with Ashlynn’s sister might be of use, but Jocelynn’s gaze was locked firmly on Lady Ashlynn herself. There was no help to be had, it seemed, from anyone at the central table.

”Your Dominion, are you saying that you expect me to wager my life on the outcome of some kind of game?” Tybal said slowly, looking around the room in search of allies who would speak up for him.

”Yes,” Ashlynn said bluntly. ”I do expect you to wager your life. Do you know what the difference between the Eldritch method of conquest and the Kingdom’s is, Lord Tybal?” Ashlynn asked, raising a brow at the lord of Aleese.

”I’ve never seen them come to conquer,” Tybal said, frowning at Ashlynn. ”Only to raid and pillage, stealing what they can before running away again.”

”Your Dominion,” Dirar said, shaking his head in disappointment at the aging lord’s barbed retort. ”If I claim his head and take his son as my apprentice, perhaps I’m doing you a favor as well. This man seems ill-suited for the counsels of rulers, but his son might still have time to gain wisdom.”

”I agree,” Nyrielle said, leaning back in her chair as she looked down on Tybal. ”Be done with him, darling, just as you did with the abbot, Recared. Or give him over to Zedya,” she suggested, glancing down the table at her handmaiden where she sat between Ollie and her husband Lennart. ”I’m certain Rain would appreciate the company of his father, and she’s done an excellent job of correcting Rain’s attitude...”

”Your Dominion, please,” Peigi said, breaking her silence at last as she watched the tide turning against her husband. ”My husband may be a proud man, but he’s been a good father to his sons and a good lord to his people. Asking him to lay down his life...”

”Is the burden any ruler must bear on behalf of their people,” Ashlynn interrupted. ”This is the difference between how the Eldritch conquer and how the Kingdom of Gaal and the Church do, Lord Tybal, Lady Peigi,” Ashlynn said sharply. ”An Eldritch Lord must be prepared to defend their throne and they wager their own life every time someone challenges them for it.”

”The difference is that the Eldritch don’t wager the lives of their people when they contend for a throne,” Ashlynn explained. ”Lord Tybal, I’m asking you to wager your own life for an opportunity to resolve a grudge between your people and the southern steppe peacefully. None of your knights need to die on the battlefield. You don’t need to press any of your farmers or ranchers into your army to risk their lives... You only need to wager your own.”

”And lest you think that it’s unfair,” Ashlynn added. ”You should know that High Lord Dirar is risking a challenge from five of his own lords to make this offer. If he returns to his people without terms that satisfy them, his life may still be forfeit. Accepting that your own life may be the price you pay for failing your people is something that every lord in this empire will need to become comfortable with, or you have no business sitting on a throne.”

”Father,” Reynold said, clenching his fists as he stood up to face Tybal. ”I have spoken to Lady Ashlynn about this. You’re a better commander than I am and I still have much to learn from you. But on a horse, with a lance, you know as well as I do that your chances of victory are small,” he said, unwilling to heap false praise on his father at a time like this.

Thirty years ago, Tybal Aleese had been famed throughout the march for both his horsemanship and his skill with a lance or spear. Twenty years ago, he’d led cavalry charges that few other men would have dared to attempt.

But for more than a decade now, his father’s hand held a quill far more often than it held a lance, and the horse he rode had been selected for its mild temperament and steady gait rather than the power of its flanks and fearless charge. Reynold knew this, and Tybal knew it too.

”I’m willing to fight as your champion, Father,” Reynold said. ”I’m not willing to see you die if I can do something to protect your life, but I don’t want to risk our soldiers fighting a battle they can’t win against people who can do what Captain Rastlan and his men did at the gates either.”

”You weren’t there on the walls, Father,” Reynold added pointedly. ”You didn’t see the way they commanded the wind and the lightning. Without the Church at our side, we have no defense against them, not really. And the Inquisitors who would fight against the High Lord’s men are already prisoners in the dungeons.”

”Don’t lead our people to pointless deaths,” Reynold concluded. ”Let me fight for you, and for Aleese.”

”Reynold,” Peigi said, pressing her lips together as tears formed in her eyes. Part of her heart swelled with pride, and at the same time, it felt like it was tearing itself in two as she watched her husband cling to his life while her son offered to risk it.

”Perhaps I don’t need to take him as an apprentice to make something of him,” Dirar said, nodding in approval at the young man. ”Your star will ascend all on its own, even without help from me. Tell me, young lord, how old are you and what is the season of your birth?”

”Twenty-eight,” Reynold answered automatically, caught slightly off guard at the question. ”I was born late in the fall.”

”Hmmm,” he said thoughtfully as he assessed the young man. ”Born under the sword of the First Warrior in a year of falling stars. You would make a worthy apprentice indeed.”

”Your Dominion,” Dirar said, looking at Ashlynn. ”I will accept the terms you offer to settle our differences with the Aleese. If the father will not, I wonder... Will you let his son challenge him for his throne? It might be better for everyone to let him speak for his people.”

”I hope that won’t be necessary,” Ashlynn said, turning back to Tybal. ”I’m not asking you to place your head on the chopping block directly, Lord Tybal. I have no interest in hosting a farce that offers a pretence to claim your life. If I wanted you dead, I’d take your head myself,” she said.

”I’m trying to open a path for you, but it’s up to you to walk it,” Ashlynn said. ”If you can’t wager your life for a chance at peace for your people, you have no business sitting on a throne. If you cannot trust me to protect you and your people, I cannot accept you as my vassal. The choice is yours, Lord Tybal.”

”Very well,” Tybal said with a defeated-sounding sigh. His eyes flickered to his son, meeting his gaze across the Great Hall for a long moment as if he was searching for something in his son’s eyes. Whatever it was, it seemed like he found it, though whether he was happy about what he saw or not was difficult to say.

”Since it’s come to this,” Tybal said, turning back to Ashlynn. ”What are your terms, my Lady?” Tybal asked, placing a fist over his chest and standing up as straight and tall as he could. ”Your vassal stands ready to hear them.”