The Vampire & Her Witch

Chapter 1777: Wolstan

The raven perched on the chair across the table from Ashlynn with its head cocked slightly to one side as its eyes seemed to take in everything from Ashlynn’s appearance to the piles of reports scattered across the table before her and even the castle mice, darting across the garden only to vanish into a small crack in the wall.To most people, it would look like an ordinary bird. To Ashlynn’s eyes, however, it looked almost achingly familiar, even though they’d never met. Its feathers carried a faint, midnight-blue shine that reminded her instantly of her lover’s wings, while the bird itself carried a hint of the Void’s dark chill.

"Wolstan," she said with a smile. "I’ve been looking forward to meeting you."

"I wish it wasn’t here," the raven replied in a voice that was surprisingly deep for such a small creature. A heartbeat later, it fluttered its wings and the air around it grew darker, enveloping the bird in a cloud of darkness that moved like ink suspended in water.

A layer of frost spread across the table from the seat where Wolstan had perched and the reports on the table fluttered in a sudden breeze, drawn toward the growing, inky cloud. Then, two heartbeats later, the darkness tore in two, falling away from the figure of a tall, imposing man dressed head to toe in black.

Wolstan was unlike any of Nyrielle’s progeny, not in age, but in the age at which she’d taken him under her wing. While Marcel would eternally resemble a man just stepping into the world of adulthood and even Ignatious appeared to be less than thirty, Wolstan had been well into his sixties before tragedy drove him to seek vengeance at any cost.

His long, white hair fell limply around a face that was gaunt with age, and the rough, white stubble that covered his jaw gave him an almost feral appearance. His eyes were dark and clouded, and while his frame belonged to a large, powerful man, he looked thinner than he should, as though he’d been sleeping rough and eating sparsely for quite some time.

"Your Dominion," Wolstan said in a voice as rough and gravely as his appearance. He pressed the tips of his fingers over his heart and gave a slight bow. "I’ve come with messages for you."

"I know," Ashlynn said, doing her best to keep her features smooth even as she felt like there was something off about Wolstan that went beyond his bone-white skin and the sour expression on his face that looked as if he wore it to bed each day when the sun rose.

"Sit, make yourself comfortable," Ashlynn said, pulling out a small wooden cup along with a sharp knife that she pressed to the side of her palm. "You’ve been traveling with High Lord Dirar for days. Have you eaten? Only Nyri can take my neck, but a witch’s blood is a potent thing, and you’ve more than earned enough to see you through until you can make arrangements here."

"Don’t," Wolstan said, furrowing his brow as he looked at the knife in her hands, ready to spill her blood for him on their very first meeting. "I have no intention to taste a witch’s blood, now or ever."

"I see," Ashlynn said, frowning slightly at his response. "It isn’t a bad thing. It doesn’t give me control over you or anything of the sort," she said as she tucked the knife away and moved the cup to the side. "You’ve served Nyri for so long, so far from everyone else, you’ve more than earned it. If you change your mind..."

"I won’t," Wolstan said bluntly. "I’ve heard what your blood can do from Mistress Nyrielle. She promised me when she made me that I wouldn’t have to feel again," he said, balling his hand into a fist. "My heart is stubborn. It refuses to die quickly or quietly. It torments me still," he said, closing his eyes for a moment and pursing his lips together tightly before he spoke again.

"It’s weaker now, just as Mistress Nyrielle said it would be," he said, opening his eyes and meeting her gaze with intense determination. "Don’t take away the gift she gave me."

"I see," Ashlynn said, nodding in acceptance. She didn’t understand, even with all she’d lost and everything she’d suffered. She could relate, at least in part, to the desire to blot away the pain, but not at the price of giving up love, joy, and all the rest of her feelings.

Nyrielle delighted in the reawakening of her heart and the love that she found, not only for Ashlynn, but for her progeny as well. She’d spread that gift to all of them and watched eagerly as Ignatious and Zedya found lovers of their own, starting relationships that would have been incomprehensible before. Ashlynn thought that all of Nyrielle’s progeny would be the same.

Wolstan, it seemed, had a different opinion about the millstone of time that ground away at a vampire’s ability to feel. While Nyrielle and most of her progeny mourned what they lost, it seemed like Wolstan took the death of his heart as a blessing.

"You said you had messages for me?" Ashlynn said, turning to practical matters. "From High Lord Dirar?"

"Him too," Wolstan said, not bothering to take the seat that Ashlynn offered. "He was stubborn, but he’ll do as you’ve asked. Only a hundred of his people will approach the city tomorrow, and they will arrive in the hour before sunset to announce themselves."

"Mistress Nyrielle visited him tonight," Wolstan added. "He needed convincing. She convinced him. He won’t cause much trouble, but he will demand a reckoning against Tybal Aleese before he will discuss the future."

"We expected that," Ashlynn said with a sigh. "Do you know what he wants from Tybal?"

"Honor and shame," Wolstan said, as though they were things that could easily be given. "For years, he’s swallowed his pride and restrained his actions against the Aleese. He thinks they look down on him and his men. He wants to teach them a lesson, and he wants the march to witness his true strength."

"Ah," Ashlynn said, nodding in understanding. "Tybal is too old to fight a High Lord. Dirar won’t gain any honor from bullying an old man," she said before instantly regretting her choice of words. "I’m sorry, she said quickly. "I didn’t mean..."

"It’s fine," Wolstan said with a slight shrug. "I am old. Nearly twice Tybal’s age, and I was older than him when I died. I know what it felt like to be his age, and you aren’t wrong; he would never threaten a High Lord like Dirar."

"Dirar will demonstrate his power when he enters the city," Wolstan said. "But he still wants a victory. He’ll send his Stone Guard to fight against Tybal’s knights. If they win, he’ll make his demands known to Tybal. If he loses, he’ll accept reasonable demands in turn. He doesn’t expect to lose," Wolstan added. "Against the Stone Guard, Tybal shouldn’t expect to win."

"I see," Ashlynn said, carefully considering how Dirar’s demand would land with the trio of lords who had approached her the day before about uniting to stand up for Aleese.

She wanted to reward their conviction to stand together; it was the sort of thing that their new empire would need in the days to come. At the same time, if she put Erling Fayle on the field against Dirar’s men, it would expose Fayle and everything he held to Dirar’s demands, which might be a price the young lord couldn’t pay.

"I’ll discuss it with Nyri when she arrives," Ashlynn concluded. "I want to make Dirar welcome at the negotiating table, but there are limits."

"He’ll understand, and he’ll accept reasonable limits," Wolstan said as a ghost of a smile appeared on his lips for the first time since he’d arrived. "Mistress Nyrielle already gave him a lesson about his limits tonight. He won’t overstep again," he said confidently.

"That’s good to hear," Ashlynn said, sighing in relief. With so many things that she’d taken on personally in the past several days, it felt good to be able to rely on Nyri for things like this. Possibilities always felt endless when they worked together, but the longer they were apart, the more she felt the weight of her responsibilities pressing down on her.

It would be good to face the challenges ahead together again.

"I have another message," Wolstan said, reaching into a pocket and producing a small, silver button. "A message from your father..."