The Vampire & Her Witch

Chapter 1546: A Spark of Fury

"I ended you!" Owain shouted, pointing at Ashlynn from the dais as his face turned dark with fury. "You were supposed to be burned and scattered to the winds so that nothing of you would be left to haunt me!"

The words fell into the great hall like embers dropped into dry tinder, and the whispers that spread across the hall crackled like flames.

Across the room, faces that had been frozen in shock began to shift. Barons exchanged glances with their wives. Knights who had been watching the armed standoff in the aisle turned their attention to the dais, where the man who was about to become their Marquis had just publicly confessed to ordering the murder and desecration of his own wife’s body.

At the Aleese table, Reynold’s hand drifted toward the sword at his hip even as his father caught his wrist beneath the table, holding him in place before his son could rush to join the knights standing at Lady Ashlynn’s side, or worse, make a move against Lord Owain himself.

"Not yet," Tybal hissed. "You know better. Listen. Learn. Move when we’re certain and not until then."

At the Dunn table, Baron Loghlan shook his head as he watched Owain Lothian utterly destroy himself. He knew that Lady Ashlynn had wanted witnesses to Owain’s crimes, but he didn’t think the man would be foolish enough to confess to them as soon as she turned up.

Even Valeri Leufroy, one of the Lothian family’s staunchest supporters, stiffened in his seat as the words crashed over him. An instant later, he shot a warning glance at his willful daughter with a gaze that was sharp enough to silence her without having to say a word.

There had to be an explanation, Valeri thought, clenching his fists until his well-manicured nails bit into his palms. Bors’ son wouldn’t stoop to violence against a woman, any woman, much less his own wife, without a good reason. He just needed to understand what that reason was...

"Broll," Owain muttered, his voice dropping as the full weight of what he’d just said began to register in some distant, calculating corner of his mind even as his fury refused to let him stop. "That useless, incompetent fool. I told him to burn you. I told him to crush your bones and scatter the ashes, and he couldn’t even manage that!"

"And Tommin," Owain’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl that held nothing of the charming smile the court was accustomed to, "Tommin the traitor, who acted like the deed was done... Some ’holy man’ he turned out to be if he couldn’t even deal with the likes of you!"

"You tried," Ashlynn said coldly. "So did they."

Her arms were still around Jocelynn, but the tenderness that had softened her face moments ago was gone. In its place was the cold, hard expression of a woman who had crawled out of a shallow grave in the rain, who had fought her way across a continent of enemies, and who had carved a path through the heart of Lothian Manor to stand in this hall tonight.

"You beat me until you thought I was dead," Ashlynn said, and her voice was steady and clear, carrying to every corner of the great hall without effort. "Your knights wrapped my body in a bedsheet and dumped me in a hole in the mud. Broll even stomped on me to prove that I was ’dead’ because he was too stupid to know the difference between a woman who was dead and one who had been beaten senseless."

"And then you," Ashlynn continued, her voice dripping with venom. "You went back to life as usual, charming the court, seducing my sister, and pretending that nothing had ever happened."

She released Jocelynn gently, keeping one hand on her sister’s arm as she turned to face her husband fully. Jocelynn stepped back toward Ollie, who placed himself at her side immediately, one hand resting lightly on the polished ivory hilt of the knife at his hip.

"I crawled out of the grave that Broll and Tommin buried me in," Ashlynn said, her emerald eyes locked on Owain’s. "Both men have paid for their crimes. Now, it’s time for you to answer for yours."

For a moment, the silence in the great hall was so complete that Ashlynn could hear the wax dripping from the candles in the chandeliers above.

Then Owain laughed.

It wasn’t the practiced, charming laugh that he’d used to win over courts and charm noblewomen since he was old enough to understand the power of a well-timed smile. It was wild and unhinged, the sound of a man whose carefully constructed world was cracking apart and who had decided that the best response was to set fire to the pieces rather than try to hold them together.

"My crimes?" he said, and the laughter curled around the words like smoke around a flame. "My crimes? You’re the witch! I’ve seen your Mark, don’t pretend it’s not true! You seduced me with your witchcraft, you bewitched my father, and everything that has happened, everything, is because Rhys Blackwell sent a witch to infiltrate my family and destroy us from within!"

The laughter died as quickly as it had come, replaced by a cold, sharp fury that was far more familiar to the people who had served Owain behind closed doors.

"But since fists aren’t enough to kill a witch," Owain said, turning from Ashlynn to sweep the great hall with his gaze until his eyes found the table where Abbot Recared sat with his Inquisitors and acolytes. "There are other ways."

"Recared!" Owain commanded, his voice cracking like a whip across the stunned silence of the hall. "This woman is a dangerous witch who threatens us all! She’s escaped death once already. If you want to wash away the stain on your order’s name, then do something about this witch!

"Burn her!" Owain shouted at the Abbot and his Inquisitors. "Leave nothing but ash and bones!"