The Vampire & Her Witch Chapter 2037: The Day of Farewells (Part One)

Jocelynn rose on the morning of the third day with a sense of quiet detachment. Everything felt distant, as though the world was lost in the frozen mists that shrouded the Vale. Fear was distant, but so was hope. Everything felt a little numb, but in a way, that was easier than the alternative would have been.

She still hadn’t seen her sister since the night she’d read Ashlynn’s letters.

Part of her had hoped that Ashlynn would come to her. That they would talk things over again. A small part of her wished for a reprieve, a few more days or weeks before she had to face her trial.

A larger part of her just wanted to talk to Ashlynn one more time. To say all the things that had built up in her heart since reading those letters. Instead, she’d written a letter of her own.

Ollie called the second day of preparations the Day of Farewells, and it was even more difficult than she’d feared it would be.

Her day had started with another of Ollie’s hearty breakfasts before the pair left for the market where Jocelynn bought a small collection of gifts to present to the people who had accompanied her over much of the past year.

It wasn’t until she looked at the basket she’d filled in the market that she realized just how many people had become an integral part of her life since leaving home.

There were silk scarves in pale yellow and brilliant orange that she presented to her handmaidens, Anne and Mary. A knife of fine Eldritch steel for Captain Albyn joined the intricately carved wooden combs that she selected for Charlotte and Adala. For Captain Devlin and Sir Elgon, she splurged a bit, presenting each of them with small, wooden jewelry boxes filled with simple necklaces and bracelets.

She started with Anne and Mary, because they had been with her the longest. Longer, in fact, than Jocelynn had been away from home.

"The yellow is for you, Anne," Jocelynn said, laying the pale silk across the older woman’s hands. "It’s the color of the roses along the garden wall at Blackwell Manor. The ones I used to hide behind when I was supposed to be at my lessons."

"And you thought none of us could see you," Anne said, her quick fingers already smoothing the silk the way they smoothed Jocelynn’s hair every morning when she helped her lady dress. "Half the household knew exactly where to look."

"But you never told on me," Jocelynn said. "You told my tutors I’d be there soon and you lured me out with pear tarts. I, I don’t think I ever said thank you for all the little things you did for me," she said.

"You didn’t need to, my Lady," Anne said, blinking back the tears that threatened to form in her eyes. "You were always good to us at home, and you watched out for us here. We always knew how you felt," she said.

"The orange is for you, Mary," Jocelynn said, turning to the younger of her handmaidens. "Like the harbor lanterns on Blackwell Bay at dusk. I thought... I thought you might like something that looks like home."

For a long moment, Mary said nothing. Then she folded the scarf with the same careful precision she used for Jocelynn’s finest velvet, corner to corner, until it was a neat little square resting in her palms.

"The last time you put something into our hands like this, my lady," Mary said quietly, "it was your sister’s quill and a sealed letter. And you told us to go down to the kitchens to eat a warm meal."

"I remember," Jocelynn said.

"We didn’t eat very much," Anne admitted. "Master Jean tried to reassure us, but neither of us could stomach a bite, not knowing what was supposed to be happening up in the Great Hall."

"Then you’ll have to eat properly this time," Jocelynn said, offering a smile that looked far too fragile.

Anne and Mary exchanged one of their silent glances, the kind Jocelynn had seen pass between them a thousand times when they thought she wasn’t looking.

"We’ll not hear farewells, my lady," Anne said firmly. "We sang Lady Ashlynn to the Heavenly Shores and wept ourselves sick at her pyre, and she came back to us anyway."

"So you’ll have to forgive us," Mary added, tucking the folded scarf into her apron. "If we don’t put much faith in goodbyes anymore."

Jocelynn held them both in a warm embrace that lasted far longer than was appropriate between a lady and her handmaidens, but Jocelynn didn’t care. There was no one in the ancient fortress to call her out on a breach of etiquette, and even if someone did, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought.

All that mattered was taking this time to let the people who were close to her know how much they meant to her before she lost the chance to do so, which is why she made her way from the quarters her handmaidens shared to the suite of rooms occupied by the group of men who had set their lives in Blackwell aside to follow her all the way out to the dangerous frontier.

Captain Albyn took the knife she presented him with and gave it a quick, evaluating inspection that felt more like a long-ingrained habit than an appraisal of her gift. The blade flashed in the light as it spun between his fingers, forward and backward before settling against his palm in a comfortable, fighting grip.

"Eldritch steel," he said, letting out a low whistle as he inspected the pattern running along the blade’s edge, where the dark steel of the knife’s spine gave way to the bright steel of the edge in a rippling pattern like the water of the sea meeting the shore.

"This is far too fine a gift for a man who hasn’t even laid the keel of your ship yet, my Lady," he said.

"It doesn’t matter," Jocelynn said. "When I needed it, you lent me your blade, even though you knew what I intended to do with it. You never once abandoned me, and you were ready to stay at my side to the very end."

"If, if this is the end," Jocelynn said. "Then promise me that you’ll keep that blade at your side. It’s not Darksteel; I’m told that those blades can’t be used without learning sorcery, and I, I don’t want to impose a burden on you to use a simple gift. But it should hold its edge, and the hilt won’t turn in your grip, even if it’s wet, and..."

"It’s a fine gift, my Lady," Albyn said, sliding the knife back into its sheath. "I’ll put it to good use, fighting at your side. Assuming that a mighty Olive Witch has use for a washed-up old sailor in her retinue," he said.

"Albyn," Jocelynn said, swallowing down the lump that formed in her throat. "If it comes to it... Whatever I leave behind... Will you carry it home to Father for me? Can I... Can I entrust you with that?"

"I carried Confessor Eleanor up out of those cells beneath Lothian Manor because there was no one else to do it," he said, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "I’ll carry whatever I must for you, my Lady. But I don’t think I’ll be collecting your things any time soon. You’re too strong for that, Princess Jocelynn," he said, smiling as he used her new title. "I expect you to come back to us before the week is out."

Jocelynn’s throat tightened until it ached.

"I won’t keep you waiting long," she promised. "I’ll walk out of that grove on my own two feet."

"See that you do," Albyn said gruffly. "A captain’s no good without someone to sail for. The next time I tie up in Blackwell Harbor, I intend to do it under your royal sigil, so pick a good one, and I’ll paint it on my sails myself."

"I will," Jocelynn said. "We’ll sail back together, one way or another," she said before turning to the other men in the room.

"Now, Sir Elgon, Captain Devlin," she said, turning to take the next set of gifts from the basket. "I have something a bit different for the two of you..."