Walking behind Lorne, I notice that he’s leading me through an abandoned wing of the palace, which I have only visited, just once. We pass by hidden rooms and an old stargazing courtyard, very rarely used. It leads directly to a sheltered but snowy rose garden, left to the whims of nature, behind which, a set of broad stone steps lead down and around to Kovan’s personal stables.
Mildly intrigued, I wonder why, despite my untrusting heart, I’m still following Lorne as we descend the steps together. I know nothing of him, and from his lazy and mocking demeanour, it’s clear that he has only his own interests at heart. Though, his idleness and ease in pulling another’s strings with such little effort, make him appear far deeper beyond that which he willingly reveals.
Glimpsing the relaxed set of his jaw, it’s not long before he returns my gaze. His sharp cheekbones already beginning to hint at his mirth. “Were you expecting me to hold your hand as we descend?” He lifts an elegant wrist, his fingertips extending with a flourish.
“No. I understand that should I fall, you will do little more than to bear witness. Even ironic clapping from you would be considered unnecessary exertion,” I mock, bringing my hands together.
“You understand me well, beautiful Wren.” His quiet laughter escapes with a knowing smile. The last few steps pass us by, as we walk side by side, his subtle spicy scent with a hint of dark amber settling in the air, enticing and mysterious.
Still briefly caught up in my thoughts, the stables appear lit by the glow of the late afternoon sun. An orange and pink halo illuminating the dark buildings, as though they remain a brooding backdrop to the scenery. Walking ahead of me once more, Lorne waves his hand as the heavy set doors swing open, bringing with it the musty odour of horses and molasses.
An aroma that I’ve missed in earnest, but as my eyes adjust to the dimness, I see Cyra. The beautiful mare that I had been forced to leave behind. Her flaxen mane, almost white, stands out in stark contrast to her chestnut coat, gleaming softly in hues of red. She stands patiently under saddle, held by a young stable boy who is very familiar. “Drury...” His name escapes me as I remember his tears, and his promise, while seeing how much he’s grown.
He looks up, brushing a hand through his messy golden hair. “Mistress... I... Is that really you?” His eyes flick to Lorne in fright as he subtly backs away. “Yes, it’s me.” I say, as I struggle with my cold heart and warm memories of first meeting him.
His eyes shine, as he unconsciously straightens his dark red tunic. “I looked after Cyra, every day, just waiting for you to return. No-one is ever allowed to ride her, and only I care for her.” He pauses for a moment, seemingly unsure. “Cyra, has been difficult since you left. She sometimes bites others, and can be ill-tempered to handle, but I never gave up, and now she lets me tend to her.”
Stopping before him, I bend down slightly, cupping his sweet and handsome face. “Thank you, Drury, for keeping your promise, and for taking such good care of her.” Feeling a swirl of air behind me, I gently let go of him.
“Innocence may melt the hardest frost, but for the blade of pride.” Turning to Lorne, I’m met with a hint of his usual mockery and mirth.
“Is that another pearl of Sire’s, wisdom?”
“A creation of my own, inspired by a single lovely soul, once so kind.” His exaggeration, make his meaning crystal clear, but after enduring so much, he will have to do better than that. As we gaze at one another, locking eyes, my thoughts are also more than clear. The slight twitch of his lips is easy to discern, although he prefers to remain otherwise expressionless.
A light nudge coming from behind, along with the feeling of Cyra nuzzling my shoulder, are enough to remind me that we need to leave. Digging through my bag, I smoothly withdraw a small jar of ginger and honey paste. “Drury, take this home for your mother. I’m sure you remember my guidance?”
He nods his head, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he carefully takes the jar. “Thank you, Wren.” I nod in return, knowing that his mother often suffers from weakness and coughing, my remedy having helped her in the past. To begin with, she was one of the first, after my mortality changed, to seek me out for healing remedies. My monstrous nature was known by all as soon as I appeared, as I now carried that haunting beauty that seems so unnatural.
Not having realised that I had drifted off, Drury’s footsteps while leaving catch me unawares as he waves discreetly, hurrying away, but not able to hide his nervousness when walking by Lorne.
Taking hold of her bridle, Lorne leads Cyra, with surprising ease out into the yard. She cautiously snorts at him, as though unsure as to whether to trust his other-worldly nature. Seeing her behave in such a manner, reminds me of her reaction to me after I was irrevocably changed. It took time and patience to regain her trust, after all, to her and many other creatures, I am instinctively a predator. My eyes narrow in remembrance of the many times that I disappeared into the night, to come here and spend time with her, unbeknown to all.
Rhythmically stroking her neck, Lorne beckons to me. “Will you allow me to ride Cyra, or is she too highly prized by you?”
My first thought is to deny him, but I know that riding behind him is far kinder to Cyra. “She is highly prized by me, and because of this, you may ride her.” His smile is brief as he turns, collecting the reins before sliding his foot into the stirrup. Swiftly pushing up from the ground, he settles gracefully into the saddle.
Cyra, dances sideways for a moment, as I run my fingers through her silky mane. Lorne, knotting the reins, reaches down, freeing his foot from the stirrup. Leaning further, he allows me to brace myself on his arm, as I use the stirrup to swing up and settle behind the saddle. Hesitantly, I reach for his waist, slowly sliding my arms around him. “Are you hoping to be swept away, like autumn’s falling leaves?”
Reflexively, after hearing his words, I vengefully tighten my hold, my arms wrapping around him in an iron grip, just as a cracking sounds, filling the air. I hear him hiss, muffling his laughter. “Beautiful Wren, you’re as ruthless as the frost on a new spring bloom.”
“Your brother taught me well,” and in a way that I shall never forget. Pushing away the darkening thoughts, we’re suddenly interrupted by hushed, but rushing footsteps. Their strides pause for a moment, before quickening, as both Lorne and I turn to await their arrival. I feel as his muscles tense, not that another soul would know to look upon him.
Soon, two men appear, one is Reid, someone who is very familiar, with his olive skin and light brown hair, who I speak to fairly often. The second, I recognise, only from the unique emblem upon his heavy travelling cloak.
“Mistress Wren,” Reid bows, coming to a halt before us. “I apologise for this intrusion, but I come on behalf of the Earthwitch clan, many of their people are suffering from an unknown illness of strange origin, their need is urgent.” He turns, gesturing to the Earthwitch’s delegate beside him.
The man bows, but only in the briefest show of reluctant respect. “Mistress Wren, I am Kell and...” I speak suddenly, cutting him off before he is able to spin a tale of his own choosing. “If the illness is unknown and of a strange origin, it would be more worth your while to seek the advice of the witches’ clan. I imagine that you have already sought out other healers, before turning to me.” His square jaw tenses and his black eyes narrow a fraction, but he does well not to show his irritation and sneering mind, that I know are buried just beneath the surface.
“You are right, of course. The healers were unable to help and also suggested that we seek the aid of the witches, which we did. However, they claimed that they were unable to help us, and suggested that we seek aid from you, mistress Wren.” He finishes with a slight and noble tilt of his head, his brown curls slipping forward.
A wry smile touches my lips. “I see, and are you asking me to your clan this late afternoon? Also, Wren, is fine.”
“I understand, and yes, we would grately appreciate your immediate presence.” As I’m thinking, Cyra strikes the dirt with a front hoof in impatience. Until now, I had almost forgotten that both Lorne and I are still mounted. Peering to the side, I understand why both clan delegates have not backed away in fear. Lorne has artfully turned to shield his face, using his long raven hair.
Lowering my eyes to conceal my thoughts, I wonder about Lorne’s motives, but know still that all will not end well. Concealing a sigh, I lean forward just slightly as I swing my leg over Cyra’s quarters, sliding down to the firm ground. “Reid...” I call quietly, as he steps closer. Reaching into my bag, I withdraw a number of jars and wrapped powders. Looking up, I meet his gaze before holding out my hand. Quickly, he withdraws a large handkerchief, which I take, tying the remedies and healing salves together.
Passing the bundle back to him carefully, he smiles sincerely. “Thank you. These are much needed and appreciated by many. Here...” In return, he hands over five wrapped bottles, but even though sealed I can still smell their sweet scent. Though to others the scent would be bitter and metallic. “If you should need more, we have a store in our Clan hall cellar.” His straight-forward words and ability to not flinch when faced with such a sight is a sentiment that I truly appreciate.
“Thank you, Reid.” I nod in a show of equal respect. Stepping past him, I catch his glance at Lorne, but he doesn’t linger, instead following me back to Kell. “I assume that you have your own mount, if so, I will follow you on Cyra.”
Heading to Lorne, he anticipates me, leaning down once more, his eyes flashing with a look of intensity and intrigue. One look is enough for me to know, that I needn’t ask if he will accompany me.
“Will your companion be keeping you company, Wren?” Kell calls gently, from a distance. I sense the suspicion in his tone, and even if I did not possess vampire instincts, his doubts would still have been clear. Instead of turning, I lean in towards Lorne as he effortlessly swings me up onto Cyra’s back, close behind him, raising my voice. “If Lorne is unwelcome, then you should return. I’m sure that your clan is in need of your help, and are awaiting you.” I feel Lorne’s quiet laughter, as I imagine the mocking look that adorns his face.
While at my words, I hear Kell, grinding his teeth. “Any companion of yours is welcome, I know that we can trust you, mistress Wren.” His response is deliberately provocative, causing my anger to flare, kindling past family bitterness. “Trust is always key, Kell.” Saying no more, we wait for both him and Reid to lead the way, which they do.
A short distance away, the two of them mount their horses, and Lorne and I follow along behind them. A flush of heat throbs in my veins at the scent of the bottled blood I carry, while my anger begins to simmer. After two years of love and manipulation, and years of isolation after that, I have finally been granted the opportunity to visit the Earthwitch clan.
A clan that my filthy scheming mother and avarice-filled father favour, from having aristocratic family ties, much like the other two clans. Cold fury runs down my spine, as Cyra’s rhythmic canter cuts through the icy breeze. Lorne rides beautifully, relaxed and yet indifferent, his hair flowing over his shoulders, looking uncaringly elegant. “I’m looking forward to your fury, beautiful Wren. I can feel it flowing around you as flames of ire.” Silence is my only offering, but I know he expects no answer, as those will come upon our arrival in the mountains of the Earthwitch clan.
Thank you for reading ❤️
(Word count 2,135)