The Vampire & Her Witch

Chapter 1081: Prickly Loman

It wasn’t easy for Ashlynn and Loman to relax and talk as they once had. As much as Ashlynn wanted to move on to safer topics of conversation, Loman was proving to be as prickly as Jacques on a cold day.

She’d thought that talking about her travels would help Loman understand the Eldritch as people, rather than as a nebulous threat, and she’d started by talking about the High Pass and the meal she shared with the Frost Walkers.

After all, despite everything that had happened after the feast, the chance to dine on sturgeon and caviar in a great hall made entirely of glittering ice had been an extraordinary introduction to the Eldritch world, and up until the attack by Tuscans who were hunting Hauke for his iridescent horn, the fishing trip on the frozen lake had been genuinely fun.

Loman, however, grew agitated as she began describing the way the Frost Walkers used the power of their horns and sorcery to shape the harshest environment she’d ever seen into something wondrous.

"So they’re called Frost Walkers," Loman said, pursing his lips in thought. "And are all of them able to bury an entire valley in a sudden snowstorm? Or is the one who attacked Hanrahan town special? Are the Frost Walkers responsible for making winter storms worse when we have a harsh winter?"

One of the most shocking things he’d learned on the trip from Hanrahan to the Vale of Mists was that the winter storm that had blanketed the entire valley that Hanrahan Town lay in, delaying Loman’s arrival and causing tremendous damage to the homes in the poor quarters of Hanrahan, hadn’t been an unfortunate sudden storm. It had been a deliberate attack by the Frost Walker named Hauke.

Heila hadn’t provided many details about why Dame Sybyll needed to blanket the town she intended to conquer in snow. When Loman had asked about it, she’d only said that it was necessary, and that they’d never intended for people to die from a snowstorm that only lasted a few days, but the young priest had a hard time accepting the brief explanation that he’d received from the exhausted Willow Witch during their carriage ride.

"I’d never imagined that anyone would be capable of using weather as a weapon," he said as he poked at the thick pea and carrot pottage in one of his bowls. "But... It kills as indiscriminately as the ritual I used during the battle. Are you going to take his arm for killing innocents as well? Could I make that part of the price for peace?"

The words weren’t kind or charitable, but at the moment, Loman didn’t care. Even though Ashlynn had served him dishes that were easy to eat without the use of his left arm, he still had to be careful with the pottage to scoop food out of the bowl instead of pushing it around the table.

Worse than that, the food was warm, comforting, and perfectly seasoned, making every bite that finally made it to his mouth a delight of contrasting and complimentary flavors and textures. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to hold the wooden bowl in one hand, pulling that warmth close while he savored not only the food but the care that Ashlynn had put into making it.

But he couldn’t, just like he had to look at either his food or Ashlynn, but he couldn’t see both at once from where he was sitting without holding his head at an awkward angle. He knew he was lashing out unfairly, but for a moment, he savored the wounded look on Ashlynn’s face more than the taste of her cooking when he suggested that he would demand the arm of the Frost Walker whose weather sorcery had destroyed numerous homes and killed several innocent people in Hanrahan town.

"Maybe this was a mistake," Ashlynn said, setting down her bowl of soup and sighing as she looked at her wounded brother-in-law. She hated saying it because somehow, she’d built up a hope that, if she and Loman could work things out, it would be a sign that it was possible for the people of the March and the people of the Vale to do the same. Or at least, that was what she’d thought.

But the more they spoke, the more she realized it was simpler than that. She’d hoped things would work out because Loman was the first ’family’ she’d seen since the night of her wedding, when everything fell apart. She’d been lying to herself that she wanted his acceptance because it would be a herald of acceptance between the common people of the March and the Vale.

She wanted his acceptance because she wanted to know that someone who was ’family’, even if it was only family by marriage, could look at the woman she’d become and accept her. She wanted a sign that her parents would still recognize her as their daughter... and that she might be able to find a way forward with Jocelynn as well. But perhaps that was all too much to hope for after everything that had happened.

"You can finish eating, or not," she said as she stood and walked toward a shelf at the far side of the room.

"I’ll leave you in peace if you want to finish eating. Virve is standing guard outside and she can escort you back to your rooms when you’re done," she said as she retrieved a small wooden box from the shelf and returned to the table where the look of momentary triumph was rapidly melting from Loman’s face.

"Either way, this medicine is for you," Ashlynn continued, opening the box to reveal three neat rows of five earthenware bottles, each one barely larger than a man’s thumb and sealed by a cork stopper and dark blue wax.

"Medicine?" Loman asked while inwardly cursing himself for letting loose with his tongue again. How many times did Ashlynn have to prove that she wanted to be kind to him before he’d be able to accept that kindness for what it was?

Loman’s face burned with shame and his stomach churned with a reminder of Ashlynn’s efforts to rebuild a bridge between them, making it even harder for Loman to sit comfortably in the aftermath of his outburst. Part of him wondered if it would be better if the people of the Vale of Mists had treated him like a dangerous prisoner, bound in iron the way he’d been in Hanrahan, and confined him to a dungeon.

At least then, he could lash out freely at his jailors and give vent to the pains, heartache, and loss that plagued his heart. Instead, Ashlynn had tried her best to receive him as family, had healed his wounds in the courtyard, and cooked a meal that was just for the two of them to share... and he lashed out at her like a petulant child.