The Vampire & Her Witch-Chapter 1257: Worse Than Treason (Part One)
For a moment, Liam looked around the table and did his best not to sigh. There was a part of him that wanted to insist... to at least send away Eira and Cadeyrn, but... His father insisted, and Liam respected him too much to rebel any more than he already had.
"Very well," Liam said. "Sir Ollie, can you do us the favor of securing the tent?"
"Easily," Ollie said, drawing Frost Fang from his hip and pressing two fingers of his left hand to the blade while his right hand held it parallel to the ground. "Frost covered walls, make still all sounds."
Across the table, Sir Brennus had just begun to marvel at the strange blade that looked like it had been carved from ivory and bone when Ollie’s words were followed by a sudden gust of cold wind that swirled around the tent.
Instantly, a layer of frost formed on the canvas walls of the tent, freezing them in place as if they’d been soaked in water and left out on the coldest winter day of the year. The frost did more than just stiffen the canvas, however. It also deadened sound, instantly banishing any sounds from outside the tent. Whether it was the sound of men moving about their chores or flags flapping in the wind, no sound from outside the tent could be heard by those within it.
"This is the first of the secrets you’ll hear tonight," Liam said to the astonished group around the table. "I introduced Sir Ollie as the Cypress Knight, and that is one of the titles he bears," he explained. "But he is also the Cypress Witch, and he is... Stay your hand, Sir Padraig!" Liam snapped when he saw the older knight standing so quickly that he knocked his chair over, while one hand dropped to the hilt of the dagger at his waist.
"You too, Sir Gavin," Liam added, looking at the stocky knight who had moved to put himself between Sir Ollie and his wife, Lady Isolde. "Everyone, just be calm. He’s still the man who helped you when you were injured, Sir Gavin," Liam reminded the broad-shouldered knight.
The broad-shouldered, stocky knight looked momentarily sheepish for his actions, but inwardly his heart was thundering like the hooves of his horse at a gallop. No one else in the room knew about the ’warning’ he’d just given Sir Ollie or the pressure he’d try to apply to the young-looking witch. If they did, they might not be looking at him with eyes that said he was overreacting to the revelation.
Silently, Gavin swallowed a curse as his eyes flickered over Isolde’s figure sitting next to him. The look on his face was the same one he’d worn when she stood over him at the last tournament he’d ridden in, when he confessed that she’d been right that he needed to hang up his lance now that he’d entered his thirties and leave the business of risking his body for fame and glory to the younger knights.
He had a child now, one who would be old enough to swear a squire’s oath in just a few years, and there was a war coming... Isolde was right that he needed to cut back on unnecessary risks that offered few rewards. So just what kind of risk had he taken by trying to pressure a witch on behalf of his lord’s heir? And, more importantly, if Sir Ollie was the kind of man to bear a grudge, just how much would his family suffer because of his carelessness?
"This is just a simple bit of sorcery to ensure privacy," Ollie added as he made a show of putting the blade away. "The frost freezes sounds that try to pass the walls of the tent. Even if someone was listening with their ear to the wall, they wouldn’t hear anything, so we can talk safely."
"Now I understand why you were worried about the Inquisition," Mairwen said, giving Liam a look of motherly concern. "If Lady Ashlynn has taken up with witches in order to win her battles, she’s playing with fire. Or ice, I suppose," she said, glancing at the frozen walls of the tent.
Further down the table, Sir Cynwrig and his wife, Lady Cerys, exchanged a brief but meaningful look at Lady Mairwen’s mention of the Inquisition. Unconsciously, Lady Cerys clutched at the pendant of a radiant sun around her neck while Cyrnwrig shifted his position subtly in his chair, clearing the hilt of his dagger from the folds of rich, indigo fabric that had fallen across it and casually resting his fingers on the buckle of his sword belt.
It was a posture that looked casual, while positioning him to move and draw a weapon if he needed to. Thus far this evening, he’d been content to sit back and let others move the conversation along, but when it came to protecting his own life and the life of his wife, he would not wait for Sir Padraig or Sir Gavin to lead the charge.
"No wonder you could defeat Sir Cathal’s forces with just a dozen men," Sir Brennus added, staring at Ollie with narrowed eyes, as though the young knight had suddenly transformed into a dangerous beast. "You probably could have done it by yourself."
"Maybe not me," Ollie admitted. "But Virve, the Oak Witch, was with me, and she didn’t need my help at all once I helped her to approach the villa unseen and showed her the side gate to enter through."
"How... how many witches have allied themselves with Lady Ashlynn?" Baron Loghlan asked, looking from his son to Sir Ollie as he was suddenly uncertain who he should address his questions to. No wonder his son had been so deferential to the young knight! He’d come here in the company of a man who could likely kill everyone in the tent without breaking a sweat.
"Father, Mother," Liam said awkwardly. "You’re mistaken about the order of things. Her Dominion, Lady Ashlynn, hasn’t allied herself with witches. She is a witch. A Great Witch, the Mother of Trees. Sir Ollie, Lady Heila, Captain Virve, and Master Isabell are all witches in her coven. From what I’ve been told, Lord Hauke will join her coven at some point, but for now, he’s Lady Ashlynn’s apprentice..."
