The Vampire & Her Witch-Chapter 1325: Waking to Pain (Part One)

While Ollie began to relax in the Dunn’s carriage, speaking at length about Lady Ashlynn and life in her coven, a very different conversation was taking place in the carriage occupied by Sir Cynwrig and his wife, Cerys.

The sun had already begun its descent toward the western mountains when Cerys finally stirred, a low groan of pain escaping her lips as consciousness returned. Her body felt like it had been trampled by horses, which, she supposed with grim humor, wasn’t far from the truth.

"Easy," a familiar voice said softly, and she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, keeping her from trying to sit up. "Don’t move too quickly. You’re safe, but you’re badly hurt."

"Cynwrig?" Her voice came out as a rasp, and her throat felt so dry that it was painful to speak.

"I’m here," her husband said, and when she managed to open her eyes, she found him sitting beside her in what appeared to be their carriage, his face creased with worry and exhaustion. There was only a single lamp burning in the carriage, swaying gently from a hook in the center of the ceiling, and the shadows it cast made the lines of worry on Cynwrig’s face look three times deeper, as if he’d aged years in a single day.

"I’m right here," he repeated in a soft, reassuring tone despite the fatigue that clung to him after the day’s events.

Cerys was lying on a makeshift bed of cloaks and blankets, cushioned as well as could be managed in the confined space. Her left arm was bound in a wooden brace wrapped with clean linen, immobilizing it against her chest. When she tried to shift her legs, a sharp pain shot through her ankle, and she realized it, too, was wrapped and braced.

"Dalwyn," she said suddenly, panic flooding through her as fragmented memories surfaced. "Where’s Dalwyn? Is he..."

"He’s fine," Cynwrig interrupted quickly, his hand moving to gently cup her cheek. "He’s perfectly fine, I promise you. Only a few bumps and scrapes, nothing worse than he’d suffer on his own playing outside. He’s riding in the carriage with Sir Gavin’s family to give you peace to rest. He wanted to stay with you, but I thought," Cynwrig said, hesitating slightly before he pressed forward.

"I thought you’d want some privacy when you woke," he forced himself to say. "So we can talk about what happened." This morning, she’d betrayed far more than just his trust, and the past several hours he’d spent watching her had been among the hardest in his life.

Part of him wanted to throw his worries aside, to simply revel in the moment that she’d regained consciousness and pretend that things would just go back to the way they’d been before this harrowing morning, but doing so wouldn’t be honest.

He’d be betraying his virtues as a knight if he turned away from the pain of betrayal, and turning away from his duties as Lord Loghlan’s vassal as well, but even more than that, he’d be turning away from the vows he made when he became her husband, and he refused to do any of those things.

It might turn ugly, but if they couldn’t speak about what happened today, then he was afraid they never would, and that their days of living together as husband and wife would come to an end.

"He’s really alright?" Cerys said, tears flowing from her eyes as relief washed over her so intensely that it made her dizzy. "You’re not just saying that to..."

"I swear to you on my honor as a knight," Cynwrig said firmly, placing his hand on his chest directly over his heart before moving that same hand to rest on her chest, where he could feel the beat of her heart pounding in her chest. "Our son is fine. Shaken, certainly, and worried sick about his mother, but not hurt."

Cerys nodded, blinking back the tears, and Cynwrig reached for a small cup, pouring a measure of wine from a skin into it. She watched as he carefully added a pinch of white powder to the wine, swirling it gently to mix it in.

"Here," he said, carefully helping her to take small sips. "This will help with the pain. Drink slowly."

The wine was slightly bitter from whatever he’d added to it, but she drank obediently, grateful for the moisture in her dry throat. Within minutes, she felt a slight easing of the constant ache that permeated her body.

"Do you remember what happened?" Cynwrig asked gently, setting the cup aside once she’d finished.

Cerys closed her eyes, shame and embarrassment flooding through her as she recalled her foolishness. When she spoke, her voice was small and thick with shame.

"I was afraid," she admitted. "After the gathering last night, after hearing Lord Loghlan speak of allying with... with witches and demons, I was terrified. I thought we would suffer an eternity of damnation for it. That our children would be cursed for the choice we made."

"They’re called Eldritch," Cynwrig corrected quietly but firmly. "Not demons. Eldritch."

"Right," she said, accepting it not because she agreed with her husband but because she felt like she had no right to argue with him at the moment. Not after what she’d done. "Last night, all I could think about was protecting our children."

"I thought if I could just get back home to fetch our daughter, then we, the three of us, we could leave the March," she said softly. "I thought I could find somewhere safe to raise them, away from the wars that are certain to come once the Church learns that there’s a Great Witch here in Lothian. I thought that maybe... maybe if I got away, you would see reason and come to find me. To find us," she corrected herself. "And then we could be together as a family again."

She opened her eyes to look at her husband, needing him to understand.

"I didn’t want to cause trouble," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "I just wanted to keep them safe. That’s all I wanted..."

Cerys’ words hung heavy in the carriage, and for a moment, Cynwrig didn’t know how he could respond to them. The safety that she was talking about... It didn’t exist. Or at least, he didn’t believe it did. No matter where you ran to, once you crossed certain lines, the people you betrayed would find you, one way or another.

As to what she thought would happen to them at the end of their lives and in the next one... Cynwrig had no idea, but he was certain that the Holy Lord of Light didn’t want them to tear their family apart in the name of helping their children to reach the Heavenly Shores many decades from now at the end of their lives.

"I know what you were trying to do," Cynwrig said softly, and there was no anger in his voice, only sadness and a deep, heart-wrenching hurt. "I know that’s what you intended. But Cerys, you could have died. You nearly did."

"I remember," she whispered, and then hesitated, struggling to find words for what came next. "I remember encountering... There were dem-, er, Eldritch soldiers in the copse of trees."

She stumbled over the word, and Cynwrig gave her an encouraging nod, letting her tell the story at her own pace.

"One of them shot an arrow at my horse," she continued. "I remember grabbing hold of Dalwyn as we fell. I was trying to shield him, to make sure he didn’t hit the ground too hard. But after that..." Cerys trailed off, her brow furrowing as she tried to grasp at memories that felt more like fever dreams than reality.

"After that, things become strange," she said after pausing for several heartbeats, as if she couldn’t find words to describe what she remembered.

"Strange how?" Cynwrig asked, leaning forward slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I don’t, um, it’s hard to say," Cerys said after trying and failing to find a way to put her fears into words. "If I say, you might think I’m mad... or cursed, or worse..."

"Just try," Cynwrig said, gently stroking her hair with his fingertips. "I promise to listen and not to judge. Just tell me what you remember."

"All right," Cerys said, biting her lower lip as she tried to summon the courage to explain what she remembered. The impossible things she saw at the edge of death that the Church would surely brand her a heretic for spreading if she ever spoke the words where others could hear.

But heretic or not, she knew what she’d experienced, or at least, she thought she did... and maybe, just maybe, Cynwrig would be able to help her make sense of it all...