The Vampire & Her Witch

The crowd parted for the approaching figure without a word.

Barsali glided into the firelight with his serpentine body coiling smoothly over the frozen ground. Once he emerged from the mist, he looked smaller than he’d initially seemed to Micheline and she belatedly realized that it had been his shadow on the mist itself that made him look so large.

”No wonder the rumors of this place were so terrifying,” Micheline whispered as she calmed her thundering heart. The serpentine man was still very large, and he could likely challenge a knight on horseback without the need of a mount of his own, but only if he rose up high on his tail.

Behind the serpentine warrior came an eclectic collection of human and eldritch figures, including two women who were bundled in furs and carried on litters.

Micheline had heard of Sir Ollie’s village, but she’d never been there. From what she’d heard described she’d imagined something small and humble, a few huts in a clearing. She hadn’t imagined this, though. A long, winding column of lanterns carried in clawed, furred hands, with members of nearly every Eldritch clan she’d heard of walking side by side with humans in plain homespun wool. There were children riding on shoulders, an old woman leaning heavily on a carved walking stick with a long, flat tail dragging in the frost behind her.

”Barsali will find the warmest fire,” the great serpentine warrior announced to no one in particular. ”For the mothers,” he added quickly. ”Make way.”

It would have been an impressive declaration if it wasn’t followed immediately by a high-pitched sneeze that provoked a ripple of friendly laughter from the crowd.

”Barsali’s nose does not like smoke,” the serpentine warrior said with great dignity, which only made the children in the group laugh harder.

Sir Carwyn Belvin walked a few paces behind Barsali with his arm around his wife. Lady Olwyna was so heavily pregnant that she leaned on her husband for support to remain upright on the litter carried by a pair of serpentine warriors. She kept the hood of her cloak drawn up close against her chestnut hair, but even Micheline could see the obvious affection on her face when she looked not only at her husband, but at the serpentine warrior leading the way toward a nearby fire.

It was the woman on the other litter, however, who captured most of Micheline’s attention.

She’d heard of Samira, the chambermaid whom Owain Lothian had dressed up as Ashlynn and sent to the Summer Villa to create the impression that Ashlynn was still by his side. It wasn’t until she saw her, however, that she came to understand why the ruse would have worked.

If she compared the heavily pregnant woman to the Ashlynn she’d spent the past week with, then it would be impossible to confuse the two. Ashlynn had a sharpness in her gaze and a powerful, regal presence that couldn’t be imitated by anyone Micheline had ever met. But when she compared Samira to the Ashlynn in her memories, the one who had yet to marry Owain and grow into her power... The resemblance was just as striking as her own resemblance to Jocelynn was.

Looking at her, with one hand resting on her rounded belly, was like looking at a version of her cousin that would never come to be, and somehow, that made her cousin’s position as the consort of an immortal vampire feel even more... distant. Like she’d left ordinary happiness behind because she’d found something even rarer that Micheline still couldn’t fully understand.

Barsali chose a fire with a sheltered log bench beside it and, with a care that looked almost comical in a creature of his size, arranged a pile of blankets for the two women to sit on. Then he coiled himself around an exposed rock, soaking up the warmth that had seeped into the stone from the fire.

”Friend-Carwyn’s wife will sit,” Barsali said. ”Lady Samira will sit. Barsali will watch.”

”Barsali, we’re perfectly fine,” Olwyna said, laughing lightly as her husband helped her to move from the litter to the blankets.

”Barsali will watch,” the serpent repeated, unmoved.

Sir Carwyn caught Micheline’s eye across the fire and gave her a helpless shrug.

”Don’t mind him too much, your ladyship,” he said when he noticed the intensity of Micheline’s attention on the small group. ”He’s been like this for the past week,” he added. ”Ever since Lady Heila said it could be any day now.”

”For both of them?” Micheline asked.

”For both of them,” Carwyn said. ”Lady Heila won’t let either of them out of her sight for long. When we heard the trial could last a week or more, there wasn’t any question of taking them to Sir Ollie’s village,” he said, gesturing to the group of people who were finding their way to seats by the fire. ”So the village came to us.”

”It’s my fault,” Samira said, blushing faintly as several people settled onto blankets near her, further enhancing the feeling that she was an important lady. One of them, a woman with sleek brown fur from the Heartwood Clan, carried a small child of her own, bundled up against the cold. ”You could have all stayed at home if not for me.”

”Hush, not a word about it,” Noomi whispered as she took her place next to Samira. ”Saku is asleep,” she said, as she draped a blanket around herself and Samira. ”Finally.”

”He’ll wake the moment you try to rest,” Samira said with a weary smile. Then her smile faltered, and she pressed a hand against her side, breathing slowly through her nose.

Olwyna noticed. Micheline saw her glance toward the path from the fortress, toward the place where the witches would come from, before she reached over and took Samira’s hand.

”Just a kick,” Samira said quickly. ”That’s all. Just a kick.”

Barsali’s tail twitched against the frost, and his head cocked to the side as he seemed to be listening to something no one else could hear.

”Strong,” Barsali said in a reassuring tone. ”Strong heartbeats from your little one. Friend-Carwyn’s little ones strong too,” he added to reassure Olwyna, even though she didn’t seem particularly nervous. ”Much stronger than before,” he added, smiling broadly at Carwyn and his mate.

”Of course they’re strong,” Olwyna said, smiling up at the great serpent. ”They’ll need to be, with you and Carwyn watching over them. If they’re boys, I doubt I’ll have another quiet day until they’re old enough to leave the house. And if they’re girls, I know you two will keep them safe,” she said.

”We’ll know soon,” Carwyn said, giving his wife a gentle squeeze. ”But don’t be so sure that girls will mean a quiet house. Dame Sybyll is training women as knights now, you know. Just because we have daughters doesn’t mean I can’t teach them how to ride and fight...”

”By the same token, just because they’re boys doesn’t mean they can’t learn to tend the gardens and help their mother with the washing,” Olwyna countered. ”We’ll find out soon. Any day now, really,” she added, gently stroking her belly while she watched the next group of people coming to join them.

The phrase ’any day now’ echoed in Micheline’s mind even as she turned her attention to the next group.

Any day now.

Any day now, if all went well, a new witch would be born.

Any day now, her cousin, Jocelynn, would become the Olive Witch.

If they knew, the Kingdom of Gaal and the Church would clutch their prayer beads in fear and send orders to raise armies. But here, in the Bloodroot Empire, it was a cause for celebration. Women who were pregnant had gathered here to witness the birth of a new witch, and perhaps, to give birth to their own children at the same time.

Any day now...