The Vampire & Her Witch

"I expect to resolve matters with Owain by year's end…"

Ashlynn's words hung in the air like a headsman's ax, ready to fall on the neck of the condemned. The statement was so shocking that for a moment, none of the noblemen at the dinner table knew how to respond to it.

The horned servants, however, went about their business as if everything was ordinary, placing artistically plated dishes before Ashlynn and each of the young lords.

"For your next course, Master Georg has prepared a taste of the hunt," one of the horned servants said as he gestured to the dishes on the table. "Roasted quail stuffed with berries, herbs, walnuts and goat cheese," he said, gesturing to a deboned quail that had been pressed flat before being slathered with the sweet, savory, crunchy and creamy filling and then rolled tight like a cigar to be roasted.

"Continuing the hunt," the servant said as he lifted the cover on the next dish. "Rabbit backstrap crusted in hazelnuts and served alongside pickled radishes," the servant explained, provoking a startled fit of coughing from Sir Carwyn.

"Did you say pickled radishes?" Carwyn asked as the coughing fit passed.

"Yes, Sir Carwyn," the servant said politely. "Master Georg obtained a barrel of pickled radishes that originated in Raek Village. He said that he wanted to prepare a dish for you that would carry the comforts of home."

Carwyn nodded numbly at the servant's words, not knowing what else to say while his heart felt like it was running away faster than a rabbit could dash. The pickled radishes had been Olwyna's idea after all. Something they'd done for the first time this year to try to earn more from their harvest when they brought them to market.

She'd been certain that it would be worth the investment, but Carwyn hadn't been willing to risk the villagers' profits on the idea, and so the only radishes that had been pickled were the ones that came from his family's own fields. To be served his own radishes here… words couldn't describe the storm of conflicting emotions raging in his heart.

"I know it's difficult to be away from home," Ashlynn said gently, reaching across the table to place a hand on the young knight's forearm. "I spent half a year on the far side of the mountains, and it's been even longer since I've been able to taste the muscles, crab, and yellowfinned fish of home."

"Georg is a gentle man," she said gently. "He isn't trying to tease or taunt you. He just wants you to enjoy a taste of home, and if anything, a taste of life could be like if we share the fruits of our labor with each other instead of fighting each other. But mostly, Georg wants his cooking to make you smile. If it's too much, we can have it taken away."

"I don't understand," Carwyn said, looking at Ashlynn with moist eyes. "Why? And how? How can everyone here be so kind after everything that's happened? Your Captain Barsali defeated me in a duel, and when my body was broken and I would never ride or fight again, he brought me to one of your witches to heal my wounds."

"You've stolen my village's harvest, but you serve it back to me because you're worried that I'm homesick," he said as a lump began to form in his throat that made it difficult to speak. "You could slaughter us all, you could install your men as overlords, but instead, you offer to return me to my village, and all you ask of me is that I stand aside during your war. You don't even demand that I fight for you…"

"How is it that the people we call demons are this kind?" Carwyn asked with tears streaming from his eyes. "

"You call this kind?" Sir Rain said with a snort. "Lady Ashlynn, I thought that Lady Jocelynn was skilled at playing a man's heart like a lute, but compared to you, she still comes up a bit short. Lady Jocelynn's words are subtle and clever, and Lord Owain bends around her finger more every day, but you barely even need words when even the food served at your table is a tool to twist a man's heart," he said, lifting his mug of cider to offer a toast to her cunning.

"Sir Rain," Liam said in a harsh, warning tone while the horned servants in the room stared at Sir Rain as though he'd sprouted a second head to be scolding the Mother of Trees so openly.

"Sir Rain," Ashlynn said as she shook her head at the scruffy, bearded knight. "If my sister is as skilled as you say she is, then I should send you back to her for lessons. I told you that my patience wasn't limitless, but this kind of goading is childish. I expect this from young boys still in finishing school or Frost Walkers who live in isolation from the rest of the world… you need to do better."

"Lady Ashlynn," Liam said, hoping to pull some attention away from the belligerent knight. "I'm sure that Sir Rain is just tired from his time in isolation," he said, very carefully not using the word 'captivity.' "If you'll excuse him for this…"

"No, damn it, Liam, shut up and stop trying to put a muzzle on me," Sir Rain said angrily as he tossed his knife and fork on the table. His dark eyes flashed with barely constrained fury as he lashed out at Liam Dunn before he rounded on the rest of the men.

"She's a witch!" Sir Rain reminded the other men at the table. "She's a witch and she's bewitching Sir Carwyn right in front of our eyes, and we're sitting here with food fit for the royal table acting like it's all normal. But it's not normal! It's not normal to let these sorts of things stand. She's the enemy," he said, pointing a thick finger at Ashlynn. "We're her prisoners here. Why am I the only one who seems to remember that?"