I felt my mind trying to retreat from it. I tried to fight it, thinking of Ariadne, her face, her shape, her voice. But that wasn’t enough. I reached for more detail. The sound of her laughter, the sound of her tears, the strange, slightly pinker shade that her lips had from normal people, the way she covered her mouth when she smiled except when caught by surprise which I loved to do. The feel of her lips on mine and the strange, wonderful scent of her skin.

There was a sound like a thunderclap and I collapsed to my knees, the false sense of lust gone from my mind, Guillaume was next to me, frantically shaking his head to clear it as he bent to check on me.

There was an odd sound that echoed around the cottage and it took me some time for my vision to clear and I realised that it was the sound of a woman choking.

“Really Freddie, why do I always find you at the mercy of other beautiful women.” Ariadne said with a slight smile.

I laughed in relief.

Where she had come from or how she had got there, I had no idea. But there she was. In a simple cream travellers dress with trews and boots underneath. She had a travelling satchel at her side and a leather hood around her shoulders. Her hair was tied back in a plait and in the heat of that moment she had never looked so beautiful in all the time of knowing her as she stood there smiling at me.

At the end of her outstretched hand, the Witch dangled from the floor as Ariadne held her by the neck, apparently without effort. The Witch tugged at the hand that held her fruitlessly. The air-flow was not entirely restricted and she wheezed.

“You? But you’re dead.”

“No.” Ariadne told her. “Merely imprisoned. Which you would have known if you had taken time to look out from your own little domain. I was imprisoned and now I am free.”

“These men are mine.” The Witch hissed, still struggling with Ariadne’s grip while I concentrated on breathing in and out. I looked up and realised that I could see the girl again without it being too much of an effort. “They came to bargain and that made them mine.”

“I know the old rules.” Ariadne told her, the Witch was kicking out at her now but she might as well have been kicking stone for all the effect it seemed to have on Ariadne. “And you have gotten away with twisting those rules to your own purposes for far too long. They did not come to bargain at all. They came to rescue someone. You forced the bargain when you gave them no other option. But even were that not the case, even were you to argue that a bargain is still a bargain, then still it would not be fitting. The price you ask is not theirs to give for their heart already belongs to others. They cannot wrong you, it is you who are wronging them.”

“What are these mortals to you?” The Witch asked, seeming to begin to tire.

“Why,” Ariadne’s smile became a little softer and a little more genuine as she looked over her shoulder at me. “I love one of them.”

“And that love has made you weak.” The Witch snarled, no trace of her former weakness. With one hand she gestured at the fire and the flames seemed to be sucked towards her hand in almost a reverse of the way that Kerrass throws sparks when he uses his “Igni” sign. Then the Witch brought her hands together and spun the flames in a ball of flame before bringing the same hands back and pushed her palms through the ball.

A streak of fire shot from the ball and struck Ariadne in the midriff sending her flying backwards to where she hit the back wall of the cottage before sliding to the floor. There was a notable splintering sound and the place where Ariadne struck had a notable indent where the boards had broken.

The fire had gone out, plunging the cottage into darkness.

But I could smell burning.

“Guillaume?” I whispered.

“I am here.”

“So if I kill you.” The Witch growled. “Then I can take at least that one for myself.”

A gentle ball of white light floated to the ceiling from where Ariadne had stood up from the wreckage of the shelves that she had struck. She seemed utterly uninjured although her dress was smouldering and burning in some places. She slapped at the flames impatiently.

“He must be some catch to have made the Spider Queen of Legend take one of the… what was it your people used to call them? “Cattle?” as lovers.”

“He is special.” Ariadne said.

Guillaume’s face shone in the silvery white light. He was sweating. I don’t think I looked any better. He gestured with his head towards the girl who was pulling at her chains again. I nodded and we started to crawl towards her as softly and quietly as we could.

The Witch shouted something in a language that I did not understand and again, pushed her hands forward as if sending a wave of water forward in a lake. This time it was a stream of green, hissing liquid that spat and bubbled when it dripped onto the floor.

Ariadne gestured and a shimmering golden barrier leapt up to block the stream so that it spattered onto the floor eating through the floor boards.

“He is special.” Ariadne said again. “He makes mistakes sometimes, he misjudges things and has a tendency to leap before talking it out with the people that love him. But eventually he comes right.”

The Witch gestured again and a wind broke up and swept towards Ariadne who braced herself and leant into the wind, shielding her eyes against the wind. The boards of the cabin began to creak and moan under the onslaught. There was an ominous cracking sound.

We had reached the girl.

“We’ve come to help you.” I told her while Guillaume examined the manacles.

“And who’s going to help you?” The girl asked, angrily brushing her tears aside.

“Her.” I gestured over my shoulder towards Ariadne.

“There’s no lock or hinge.” Guillaume said, drawing a dagger. “The metal is fused, we’ll need a blacksmith to get them off.” He attacked the wall and the bracket with his dagger, trying to get it free. Wood chips began to fly.

“Part of the secret to attracting a good man,” Ariadne was having to shout to be heard over the wind. “Is to let him have his freedom. If you smother your man, you will drive him away.”

The Witch screamed in fury and gestured to the sky. A bolt of lightning came down, the blast of thunder deafening us and driving Guillaume and I to the floor. The Witch caught it in her hand and threw it at Ariadne where it, again, struck the shimmering golden shield.

The roof began to tear away in the wind.

“Do not tell me how to keep a man.” The Witch snarled. “What do you know about keeping a man?”

Ariadne seemed to consider this before shrugging. “Quite a lot it would seem.”

And I thought that the Witch had been angry before. She literally howled and this time she simply hurled her hands at Ariadne as though they contained something. She stood there, screaming, howling, bellowing her rage and her hatred at Ariadne and it manifested in a strange, black, purple stream of energy that impacted onto Ariadne’s shimmering golden shield.

Ariadne staggered.

Guillaume’s dagger broke. “I can’t lever it free.” He screamed at me. “It’s in deep and it broke my best steel. I’m going to have to hack it free.”

We had long since given up trying to be quiet.

“Here.” I bellowed as loud as I could over the screams from the Witch, the awful cacophony of raw, hate fuelled magic impacting on a shield and the shrieking as the wood from the cabin started to tear itself apart. “Viper Steel.” I handed over my belly Knife.

“It might break.”

“Then I’ll get Letho to make me a new one. We don’t have much time.”

Guillaume stopped arguing and set to work trying to lever the bracket free. Almost immediately, the Viper forged blade started to make a difference and Guillaume laughed in surprise and joy as the first nail pinged free.

The Witch was laughing in triumph now. “You made a mistake, Parasite.” She crowed. “You should have been on the attack, the first chance you had. Instead you wasted time on summoning light. You do not need it and all you did was waste time and give me an opening.”

“And that is why you will always fail.” Ariadne told her as the magical energy started to push on her shield. “The light was not for me, nor was it for you.”

“Your shield is buckling Leech. It will not last much longer.”

“Nor will your spell.” Ariadne told her through gritted teeth.

“I always had more power than you.”

“You were not alone in that. However, I have spent the last several hundred years practicing and refining my technique, while you have wasted your time frightening townsfolk. Hardly a task to stretch and challenge yourself.”

Despite the strain in her voice, I could hear the scorn.

So could the Witch.

Another nail sprang free.

“Power beats technique every time.” The Witch jeered.

“You are clearly out of date.” Ariadne replied. “The modern techniques of the brotherhood and the Lodge put the likes of us to shame.”

“Yet you seem to have forgotten them.”

“I don’t need them.”

“Ha. Your shield weakens, your power lessens and soon I will feed your flesh to my panthers.”

“I doubt they would find me palatable.”

The last nail fell out and we were able to pull the chain free.

I gestured to Ariadne and she nodded.

“I may have forgotten the new techniques in the heat of combat.” Ariadne told the Witch, straightening and seeming to relax a little. “But you have forgotten that I am not only a Sorceress.”

I heard, or felt, a rumbling in the ground. It was a familiar rumbling as I heard it.

The Witch, although I was beginning to doubt that that was who, or what, she was. Called in dismay and redoubled her efforts on Ariadne’s shield.

Ariadne had not been straining because of the onslaught though. She had been holding herself in check. And I suddenly knew what the strange vibrations were.

“Are either of you afraid of spiders?” I wondered aloud.

“I was a Knight Errant.” Guillaume said. “You can’t destroy Arachnomorph nests and be afraid of spiders.”

“I am.” The girl said. “A little. Why?”

I could see through the holes that the magic had torn in the walls of the cabin. There were things, many limbed things climbing, over each other, burrowing their way out of the ground. And they were coming towards the cabin. Some of them were bigger than dogs.

The girl screamed.

I looked at Guillaume who was gaping at the sight. He turned to me, confusion and fear mixed with awe.

“Errr.” I said in sudden indecision. “Run.”

Guillaume picked up the girl and rudely slung her over his shoulder without thought to the armour he was wearing. I scooped up my spear from where I had dropped it and we ran. The spiders ignored us, heading into the cabin. I saw the first one leap at the Witch to be burnt in a flash of magic. I was still accelerating when I saw Ariadne’s hands elongate into claws.

“Run Freddie.” She said, her voice increasingly animalistic.

I did not wait to see the end of the contest and I did as I was told.

But we were not clear yet. As we ran, I heard the Witch’s voice coming from around me. “Where do you think you’re going?” She said as a panther leapt from the trees.

Bless Kerrass’ training. Bless the endless drills and the aching muscles. Without really thinking about it I spun, had my spear planted and the panther impaled itself on my spear, the weight tearing the spear from my hands.

“Freddie.” Guillaume called, half passing, half tossing the girl to me who had come round from her swoon. Guillaume’s sword swung clear and fair decapitated the next leaping Panther.

We heard a woman scream and my eyes shot to the ruin of the cabin. Green fire and heaving spidery bodies obstructed my view to anything useful.

Guillaume impaled another Panther only unlike me, he had the time to properly twist the blade so that it came through. I tugged my spear free and then, supporting the girl between us, we ran for it.

We made it to the tree line and looked back, the cabin was well ablaze now but there were no signs of anything else coming to get us.

“I would like to sit down please.” The girl said, clearly holding onto her self control with her fingernails.

Guillaume and I lowered her to the ground where she leant against the tree. She was murmuring to herself.

We watched the cabin burn.

There was still a small glow of dusk to the west and I marvelled that it hadn’t been that long since we had walked into the cottage.

“I’m sorry.” The girl said. “But I’m lost. Were the spiders on our side?”

“Yes.” I told her, before a thought occurred and I giggled.

“I’m sorry.” I said. “But we never asked. You did want rescuing didn’t you?”

Guillaume caught my spell of giggles and we started to laugh, the life affirming laughter of men that have survived something.

“Yes.” The girl said absently. “I knew that the Witch is selective on who she helps. But I was desperate and I needed help and I knew that… Oh, Father…”

Her face crumpled and she started to sob.

Nothing more effective to quell a moment of hilarity than a young girl’s tears.

Guillaume left to climb down the cliff in order to get some water from the horses and our supplies while I started to build a small fire. There is a comfort in routine and there is always a certain kind of person whose first instinct in the middle of a crisis is to make a cup of tea.

In fairness, that’s what you’re supposed to do when someone has just had a big shock, something milky, hot and sweet. But it always amuses me when I look back and see myself acting automatically in the pursuit of such things. Guillaume came back quick enough to make me a little sick with jealousy at the physical conditioning of the man. The way he bounded up the path, still fully armoured and carrying the huge sword at his waist, but with saddlebags over his shoulder. Frankly, it was a little obscene.

He stood guard while I made tea and the three of us watched the cottage as the fight between Ariadne and the Witch continued. Why didn’t we go in to help? By this stage, there was so much fire and energy crackling around the place that I doubt that either of us could have got clear. If the Witch won then we would not be able to flee her wrath fast enough although, to be fair, I didn’t really consider that to be an option. I was convinced of Ariadne’s superiority and when Ariadne won, I wanted to be there to thank her for coming to our rescue.

The girl sobbed for a while longer, wrapping her hands round the hot tin mug of tea as she stared into the flames of our tiny campfire. We had wrapped her in a blanket against her shivering. Both against the cold and the torment that she had endured.

Guillaume and I stood together and watched the cottage that was now well ablaze. A spray of purple sparks shot out one of the holes in the roof.

“So...uh…” Guillaume began nervously. “You and your lady still happy together?”

“Yeah.” I said after taking a moment. “I think I frustrate her sometimes by not looking after myself properly. She mostly seems resigned to that now.”

“That’s good.” He sounded relieved. “I don’t think annoying her would be a healthy occupation.”

A Panther emerged from the undergrowth and charged into the burning wreckage of the cabin.

“I’m pretty sure that I’ve annoyed her before now.” I said. “She finds my behaviour bewildering sometimes. The differences between Vampire and human somewhere.”

“Speaking as a man that has been married for a while now. Believe me when I say that those differences are nothing to do with the different species. She is a woman and you are a man. That’s all the differences you need.”

Presumably the same panther rolled out of the cottage with a large spider seemingly latched onto it’s back, the panther tried to roll around to get the arachnid off it’s back but the spider was clinging on with all eight legs with what looked like grim determination.

The spider was on fire.

“The difference.” Guillaume went on. “Is whether or not the two of you are willing to bridge the gap. Whether you enjoy the differences or they make the two of you angry.”

“She claims to be fascinated by the differences.”

“Fascinated?”

“Her very words. Word to the wise, when, as I hope, we are able to get to know each other on a more social basis after all this is over, be prepared to answer an awful lot of questions. And then when she says something like “Fascinating,” or “How interesting.” Then she may just… sit there for a while while she works it all out.”

“I can cope with that I think. I will also warn Vivienne.”

“Also be warned, that she has no boundaries regarding sex.” Guillaume reddened. “Even while she tends to refer to the whole thing in strictly scientific terms. She will also probably ask your wife for tips.”

“It’s not Vivienne that finds that kind of thing embarrassing.” Guillaume admitted. “Vivienne will be delighted. Any opportunity she gets to throw my own prudishness into my face is a good one for her.

The Cabin exploded. There really is no other way to properly describe what happened. It exploded, a lot like a firework even with brightly coloured sparks and flames shooting in all directions. A burning comet seemed to shoot out of the wreckage and soar towards the heavens where it turned southwards, still accelerating, until it was out of view.

Ariadne emerged from the wreckage of the cottage, tossing aside a burning beam as though it was nothing, swatting away some drifting, burning thatch while also brushing the ash from her hair.

She was also, mostly, naked. The remains of her dress and other clothing hung from her frame, now reduced to a thin spider’s web (Freddie: Pun not intended) of loosely connected strands of cloth and leather. Some of which was still smouldering. As she walked towards us… sorry, as she swaggered towards us she had a glow about her that was more than just to do with the magic expended. She looked like the cat that has just stolen a tasty morsel. Or the horse that was showing off for it’s master.

She was smiling smugly.

The panther that had had a flaming spider on it’s back fled. Halfway to the trees, the spider jumped off and burrowed into the ground.

“Now.” Ariadne said as she approached. “I do need to check something. I need to make sure that I get this right. The Phrase is “By the flame but I enjoyed that.” That’s right isn’t it?” She asked me with a little look of anxious concern in her face. Just a touch though, the main characteristic of her face at that time was smugness.

“Yes.” I told her. “That’s the correct phrase.”

“Good, then I can say with feeling that, by the Flame, I enjoyed that.”

She laughed and did a little skip which did interesting things to certain parts of her anatomy. I looked away hurriedly, which Guillaume was already doing.

“There is something satisfying.” Ariadne went on. “In properly being able to cut loose. I don’t get to do it nearly often enough. I mean I’ve practised and trained with the other ladies of the lodge and I’m better at combat casting than I think I’ve ever been, but there is always a feeling of holding back.”

She sighed happily.

“Freddie?” She wondered. “Why aren’t you looking at me. It is traditional in these parts for the damsel to award his rescuer with a kiss is it not?” She gave a little laugh.

“Ummm.” I took a breath. “You’re naked Ariadne.”

There was a pause while I imagined her examining himself.

“That dress was expensive.” She commented. “Ah well.” There was another pause and a rustling of cloth. “Very well, you can turn back round now.”

She had changed into a simple black robe and dark cloak.

“Forgive my appearance.” She told Guillaume. “But for some reason I always default to black when I have to conjure clothing.”

“After your rescue of us Madam, you could wear sackcloth and I would still call you beautiful.”

“Ah,” she smiled. “That was a good line. You see Freddie? That is how you compliment a woman.”

I chuckled. “I was going to say that you would be so beautiful in sack-cloth that your use of sack-cloth to make dresses would become the fashion.”

She smiled.

“And,” I continued, holding my finger up. “I would have said so, even before you rescued us.”

“Ah you see,” She turned to Guillaume. “There is a reason that I am marrying him. Now Freddie, about that kiss.”

I gave my rescuer her well deserved reward.

The girl sobbed. She hadn’t noticed or even taken in anything that we said. Ariadne pulled apart from us and put her arm round the girl and held her for a while until the girl seemed to doze off. Ariadne produced a pillow from somewhere and tucked our blanket around her.

“Is she alright?” I asked stupidly.

“She will be.” Ariadne replied. “She is very strong. I do not think that the problem was with her father’s death so much as it was with the fact that she had expected rescue and safety when she came here and all she found was danger and torture. That betrayal hurt her I think. She will sleep for a little while.”

“We do need to ask her some questions.” I said. “I know it’s heartless and harsh but…”

Ariadne raised her hand. “I understand. Let her rest for a little while and she will be better able to help you.”

I nodded and sat down, pouring Ariadne some tea as well as a cup each for Guillaume and I.

We sat in silence for a while before I realised that I was sitting separately from the woman that I love and scooted over to put my arm round her.

There are some simple pleasures in life and one of them is to be able to hold onto the woman that you love. She snuggled closer and smiled at me. The kind of smile that I hope I remember in my dreams.

Guillaume saw it and smiled.

We sat and listened to the sounds of what was left of the cottage collapsing.

“Forgive me for being curious Madam.” Guillaume began. “But it rather seemed as though the two of you knew each other.”

“We do, or rather we did.” Ariadne straightened up from where she was resting her head on my chest, listening to my heart beat. Just one of those things she does occasionally that some people might find creepy but I find to be endearing.

“So who… what… is she? I assume that that comet that shot off into the sky was her?”

“It was.” Ariadne sighed as she took up a stick and poked the fire with it.

“It could go either way as to it being a long story, or a fairly short one and I am struggling to think of where to start.”

I muttered something under my breath but Ariadne heard and glared at me. “Yes I know. Start at the beginning.” She snapped comically.

“She is the Woman Wronged.” Ariadne told us. “I know that isn’t an answer but it’s the only answer I have. I have no idea what her name is or even if she has one. It is more likely that her true name is a closely guarded secret so that it cannot be used as a weapon against her. She is a very sad story and I feel sorry for her just as much as she infuriates me.”

She refilled her own cup as she frowned in thought.

“Since Freddie has made a study of these things, I have begun to realise that she is very possibly a similar being to Jack. Far less powerful and far less frightening than himself of course. But I think it’s a good theory.” She smiled at me. “You have a lot more things to write about Freddie when you are done.”

“I hope so.” I said softly, suddenly feeling a small sense of fear. Ariadne heard it of course and reached over to take my hand and squeeze it.

Ariadne took another breath. “I think that’s right though. I think that she and Jack are from the same race of people. I think…”

She stared off into the distance for a long moment before shaking her head.

“She is the Woman Wronged.” She said. “It is as though she is the personification of that story.”

“What story?” Guillaume wondered.

“If you think about it, in every romantic story there is always a woman that doesn’t get the love. In stories where there is an arranged marriage between a boy and a girl where the boy doesn’t love the girl and runs off with someone else. The girl left behind is always portrayed as being unlikeable or somewhat repulsive but if you examine such stories, you normally find that the trope is a contrivance for the readers or listeners, to side with the romantic people. But the behaviour of the woman left behind, is actually right. She is the one that remains faithful to the man that does not love her. Doing her best to be a good wife despite the man’s inability to communicate with her. Her only crime is to be a woman in the arranged marriage. Or, she is the woman that is left behind by the man that is pursuing his obsession over her. Neglecting his normal duties, such as looking after the children or providing for the family in some way so that he can… I don’t know…”

“Become a great Knight.” Guillaume suggested.

“That’s a good one.” Ariadne replied. “Another common one is that the man goes off to pursue some kind of artistic, or athletic dream. Such stories always end up with the hero emerging triumphant, along with getting a new, far more pliable and understanding romantic interest. The fact that she is often portrayed as being more beautiful as well is by the by.

“The exception to this rule is when the boy is already obsessed with something before the girl meets him. These are the women that I have no time for. I would never ask Freddie to give up his studies because they are part of him, part of the man that I fell in love with. Just as I would imagine that Lady Vivienne would never ask you, Guillaume, to set aside your lance and sword to become a courtier’s husband. That is part of who you are.

“But I digress. There are other versions of the tale that are becoming more popular in modern times, where this woman, the wronged woman, is the heroine of the tale and she goes on to be a strong independent woman who forges her own destiny, but that is far rarer than the former. Even then though, the woman in these stories, the “wronged woman ends up alone, with maybe a friend of some kind as well as the children that her former lover, husband or paramour have left her with. They tend to be the kind of story where she triumphs against all odds and “learns the strengths of being alone.”

Guillaume nodded. “Triumph is all well and good but what you describe is a very lonely story. Triumph is a dish best shared.”

“Well those stories are about her. Or rather she is the inspiration of those stories in some way. She seems to have moved into the public consciousness in that way. So it might be that she was the original, that she was human once and that she is morphing into a Jack-like being. I do not know the answer.”

Ariadne stared into the space over the fire for a moment, watching the sparks rise up into the night sky.

“When we first knew her. She claimed to have been cursed in some way. And for all I know it’s true. Back there and back then… well… how to put this. The Lodge of Sorceresses is not the first knitting circle of powerfully magic women. Freddie has met a number of the old guard now and you will have heard of still others. I was one of course, Francesca Findabair was another along with the Elf Sage Ida aep Emean. Maleficent was another along with a Vodyanoi who’s name I cannot pronounce in this shape. Our numbers were never large, some would come and go while others were constant presences” She smiled at a memory.

“We were not so formal an organisation as the modern lodge. There were no meetings, votes or agendas. We were just a group of women that were all studying magic at the time and doing our best to chart and understand the magical chaos that was infusing the continent. The male magic users were far too full of their own self-importance and arrogance to be entirely to our taste and their research was always along the lines of… how to explode things or break things down to their basic elements in order to figure out what was going on. The ladies of the equation much preferred to just go with the flow. To examine the natural order of things.

“Don’t be fooled into thinking that our own circle was entirely friendly though. There was also more than a small amount of rivalry amongst us all as well. A very distinct feeling of the human saying “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” If we watched each other then there was no chance that we would be able to sneak up on each other. I certainly would have destroyed any of them in order to preserve my own power and position. But in doing so, it would have weakened me enough that any of the others could have destroyed me easily.

“So in that regard, we balanced each other out. And after a couple of centuries, it becomes clear that people that were once enemies have more become rivals, which in turn becomes a friendly rivalry, which in turn becomes friendship. Maleficent told me that she would have avenged my death if she had known who was responsible and I would have done the same for her. None of us ever said the word “friend” but that’s what we were.

“Eventually this woman came to us. She called herself Nessa back then. She claimed that she had been cursed by another woman. Nessa had been minding her own business and had been delighted to be approached and seduced by a handsome man. Only to later find out that the man in question was already married. So the wife cursed Nessa that she would live forever until she met a man who would not break her heart.

“The curse was worded more poetically than that but that's the best translation that I can come up with. And that had become her life. She was obviously beautiful, relatively kind if that was your poison. Fiercely intelligent for her particular walk of life. Proper education hadn’t really been invented yet in that time and place. She was already a local herbalist and medicine woman. So she had no problem getting a man. What with everything that she had going for her in that regard. The problem was keeping them and for them to not betray her.”

“There are many ways for a man to betray a woman.” Guillaume said hollowly. “And for a woman to betray a man also. Especially if they are in love.”

“And I think you are coming to the crux of the matter here. Who is betraying whom tends to be in the eye of the beholder. At the time, our observations were that the problem was largely on her side. She was so desperate for love and affection that she would often overwhelm the target of her affections and drive them off. She would just be too much for them, showering them with gifts, indefatigable sexual appetites, constant and overbearing affection. Sooner or later it became too much for the poor man to cope with in this situation. They would be smothered by it all in a very real way. They would not be able to see friends or family because they were always needed to ensure that she was as happy as possible. And woe betide them if they had any female friends, let alone attractive ones. If he didn’t reciprocate then she felt betrayed. If he could not satisfy her sexual appetites, even for the simplest reasons of sickness or fatigue, if he did not return a gift for a gift, if he wanted some time to himself away from the constant attention and affection. Then she would lose her mind.”

“I am struggling to believe that there was no-one willing to step up to that kind of thing.” Guillaume said.

“Oh there was.” Ariadne looked at me unhappily. “Several in fact and for a while there she was quite happy.”

“What happened?” I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“She is immortal.” Ariadne wouldn’t meet my eyes. “They grew old, died and in doing so, they broke her heart more completely than if they had simply run off with another woman.”

“I…” I tried but Ariadne held her hand up.

“Yes Freddie. That betrayal is in your future too, and mine.” She took a breath. “I hope that when that time comes, I weather it better than Nessa does. And I do not blame you for it. I walked into loving you with open eyes.”

I nodded. “We are going to talk about this further.” I told her, reaching out and taking her hand.

I noticed that Guillaume had turned away, not looking at either of us.

“Eventually,” Ariadne took up the tale again. “She started to learn magic from us. She had some talent although that talent would be dwarfed by someone like Triss Merigold, Fringilla Vigo and the rest. Let alone Yennefer. But she started and she was determined. With our failure to be able to help her with the curse, she had resolved to help herself. In doing so, there were even more avenues for men to disappoint her of course. Eventually, she came to the limit of our understanding in such things and wandered off in an effort to try and find a different solution to her problem. We would hear of her around the continent and beyond. Trying to find the man that could properly satisfy her. A man that would make her happy.

“We tried everything to help her as well. We found eligible lonely men, but she would find fault with them all, often with regards to their physical appearance or capabilities. We found her eligible creatures as well, beings that would be as immortal as she was, if not more so. Such beings were far more common back there and back then. But she didn’t want that. She was meant to be with very specific people and as a result, she simply wouldn’t have it. We even tried setting her up with women on the grounds that maybe the curse could be broken in that way. By finding love with a woman rather than a man that would always be out of her reach. Maybe that would be able to break the curse, true love being the breaking of all such things. But nothing that we tried seemed to get through to her. Nothing that we tried was properly satisfying to her.

“So on she would travel. Meeting with one or other of us over the years, learning as much as we were willing to teach her before she would try and take everything that we weren’t willing to teach her. At which time she would grow angry when we defended our secrets and then there would be fighting and then she would head off into the rest of the wide world.

“We kept a watch on her of course. We were responsible for her after all and many of us were territorial. We would not have suffered a rival in, or near our places of power. Several times these disputes would come to blows. Where, between any of the rest of us would have backed down over such a thing after a few brief and subdued exchanges, more tests than anything else. She would go all out in her efforts to the point that she would need to be spanked down.

“When she went after the Elven magic, Francesca and Ida slapped her around a bit and taught her the errors of her ways. She came to see me after that and wept that we had turned on her and I had to explain about the balance of power. She left promising that she would not impinge any further but I know that a decade later she had a run in with Maleficent and was burnt for it. Literally and figuratively.

“I am not surprised to find her here after all that. The most romantic land on the continent.”

Guillaume snorted.

“She was angry though.” Ariadne ignored him. “Angry enough that I would suggest that she has recently lost another lover. She is, or was, far more open to visitors, especially if they are polite and deferential to her. But she seemed to want to pick a fight.”

“She nearly won.” I said.

“I agree.” Guillaume said. “And although Freddie here can make it up to you with flowers and jewellery, such things would be inappropriate for me to express my gratitude in such a way. If there is anything I can do to help you, I beg of you to ask.”

“A man should be careful about making such promises Sir Guillaume.” Ariadne warned although I could tell she was pleased. “It might not end well.”

“And I would not offer except that I know you to be an honourable lady.”

She snorted unhappily. “It was not always so.”

“Maybe not. But Freddie is a good man and I would trust his judgement.”

Ariadne smiled. “Yes,” he looked at me, meeting my eyes again. “Yes he is a good man isn’t he.”

We looked away from each other.

“She could be a good friend though.” She took up the account again. “The woman wronged also meant that she had plenty of Empathy for those people that had had their heart broken. She was also… clever isn’t the right word. Experienced might be a better one. She knew how to talk to people. She knew how to… She knew the difference between what a person wanted to hear and what a person needed to hear. She did have a bit of a tendency to play the “woe is me” card. Where she would complain that the other woman’s heartache was nothing compared to her own.

“But beyond that, she had the trick of knowing what to say to someone in order to get them to forget their broken heart and move on with their lives. In the end, she would become the kind of forest Witch that gives other wise women a bad name. Being off in the woods looking all beautiful and forbidden, luring the men of the village off by being horrible to them in every way.” A smile flickered across her face at a memory. “Odd how being horrible and obnoxious seem to attract a certain kind of man. The very opposite of the saying, attract more flies with honey.

“She would help the broken hearted girl who had been taken advantage of and curse, or seduce, the man that had done the taking. She would help with the babies that resulted from these entanglements and I recall that nothing made her quite so angry as to see a baby being denied a Father’s love through laziness.

“But she could never stop falling in love. No matter how hard she tried. She was the female version of Dandelion. She just couldn’t help falling in love at the drop of a hat. A well developed musculature, a sense of rugged danger, a pretty face. A similarly broken hearted man that she would want to care for. An older man who had lost his wife and despaired of finding love again. The lonely drunk. The choosy Lord. The wandering knight. The chaste, innocent and beautiful monk. The powerful bandit. She would love them all and, inevitably and often predictably, her heart would be broken and her wrath would be terrible. Sometimes so terrible that someone would need to step in.”

“I feel as though you are trying to tell us something here.” Guillaume said. “There is a parable to your tale but I just can’t tell what it is. I am a stupid man milady and I would beg you to speak plainly.”

Ariadne smiled. “I am guessing as I do not know the full circumstances of the thing. But I would guess that the girl’s heart is broken in one form or another. The Wronged woman would not have helped her if it wasn’t. But what she did, keeping her prisoner and hurting her. That might have been as a result of the woman’s jealousy, or rage at a recent heartbreak. But it might also have been something that needed to happen to goad the girl into action.

“The Wronged Woman is old. Far older than me and she did not look like that when I first knew her. You would be mistaken to underestimate her.”

“Is she gone permanently?” Guillaume asked. “People have often eyed the woods near here with regards to timber. There is a series of caves nearby that often house bandits and it would be useful if we could set something up to prevent their use. ANd more land available means more Vineyards and wineries. The presence of the Witch has always prevented this.”

“She will return.” Ariadne decided after a moment’s thought. “Especially if I am correct in believing that her treatment of the young Countess there was a ruse of some kind. She will have known that you were coming to rescue her and what the consequences of that would be. It would astonish me if my arrival was not expected.”

She thought on the matter a bit further. “My professional advice on the subject would be that you should watch this part of the world. It is not a coincidence that she built her cabin on that particular piece of ground. In a day, maybe two, you will look up and see that the cabin is rebuilt. There will have been no wood-cutters or wood-workers. There will be no-one who saw it being rebuilt but there it will stand. Shortly after that, there will be an eldritch light seen in the window and people will become afraid again with little to no new impetus. Then you will know that she has returned.

“If there is no new house there in a month, then you can consider it safe to develop the area.”

“I will pass that on.” Guillaume shivered.

The girl was asleep at this point, the sleep of the exhausted and drained. We didn’t have long and we needed to know what she knew but to wake her up now seemed harsh. Ariadne, who knows more about this kind of thing than either of us, suggested that it would be better to let her rest for a while and so we followed her advice.

Countess Vasseur reminded me of Princess Dorn in many ways although more due to the differences than any kind of similarity. They were the same age physically with Sleeping Beauty being a little older now, both had long hair but where Sleeping Beauty’s hair was, golden yellow, long and straight, hanging like a curtain, Countess Vasseur’s hair was a reddish gold. Almost exactly the same shade of colour as the Duchess’ hair was. Almost, not quite.

The main difference between the two was that it rather struck me that Countess Vasseur had not quite grown into her face or body yet. There was a sense of girlishness about her form that suggested that there was still some maturation to come. She would, undoubtedly be a pretty lady, especially with the help of people at court that could teach her how to… be. But she had the sense of not quite being fully formed.

Whereas the Queen of Dorn is everything she is. She is comfortable in herself, even while she occasionally despises the things that this has made her a victim of.

Guillaume promised to watch over her for a while as Ariadne and I felt the need to go off and speak quietly. Or rather, I should say that I felt the need to take her off and speak privately. I will not detail that conversation as it was a private one. Given what we had just been talking about, I wanted to make sure that she was alright.

All I will say is that I love her with all my heart and I do not foresee a situation where that would change. We were mostly done when Guillaume called us over to tell us that the young Countess was waking up.

As we returned to her, I was once again reminded of a similar situation with the then Princess Dorn. The young Countess sat with her knees drawn up, hands cupped round a mug of tea which she was blowing across the top of in order to get it cool down. Every part of the image was different. Curly hair instead of straight, curtain like hair. Guillaume instead of Kerrass. Being outside instead of in an old, mostly ruined castle.

But the physical situation was the same. That and the fact that Ariadne was beside me.

I sat down while Ariadne remained standing. If I was being uncharitable, I might have suggested that she was lurking but far be it from me to suggest that she was doing something like that.

Guillaume passed out a cup of the strong, bitter tea, serving Ariadne first because of course that was the correct way round before passing me a similar tin mug. It occurred to me that he had brought extra mugs as part of his gear. Shortly before it occurred that he had possibly gone through my things to find my mug. But I didn’t quite believe that, it didn’t seem as though it was in character for him somehow.

I also noticed that he placed his own mug of tea at his feet without taking a sip from it.

“You haven’t asked how I’m doing yet.” The girl said, presumably at that point where the silence became oppressive for her.

Guillaume deferred to me, I sighed. “Would it help?”

For just a moment, it looked as though her face was going to crumble. “No,” She said, “No I suppose it wouldn’t.”

“I lost my own father.” I said. “A little more than a year and a half ago. I know it’s not the same for me as it is for you as our walks of life are very different. But there are some things that I find that I can tell people that sometimes helps. Things that no-one else seems to have the courage to tell us.”

She looked up through tear stained eyes.

“The first is that it will always hurt.” I told her. “Always. That never goes away.”

I saw Guillaume nodding out of the corner of my eye.

“It will always hurt whenever you think of your father. You will consider the things that you should have said and did not say. The things that you did, or did not do when you had the chance to take a different path. It will never go away. Never. But gradually, over the course of the day, you will just… not think about it as much. It’s like having a sore tooth, a headache or some other kind of injury. It gets to a point where it is always there but you become used to it. You will think of other things, for a moment, for an hour, for a morning.”

I took a breath.

“And then there will be a day where you don’t think of your father, or the fact that your father is dead, at all. I will not lie to you. That day is awful and I remember having a friend take me to an inn and get me so very drunk that I could barely stand. The kind of drunk where you have to hold onto the ground to ensure that you do not fall off.”

She giggled through the tears.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“It is easier with friends though. Friends rather than family. Your family, if there is any, will be going through their own things and will not be much help to you. But friends? their only connection is through you. So they can spend all that time caring for you ahead of all other concerns. Use that.”

“Was your father murdered though?” She asked with just a hint of bitterness. “You are an old man.”

Ariadne hid a snigger.

I carefully did not tell her that I was only just into my twenties. I remember being sixteen and anyone older than twenty was ancient.

“You are an old man,” She said again. “Parents are meant to die.”

“Yes they are.” I told her. “But yes, my father was murdered too.”

She checked with Guillaume to see if I was lying. He nodded at her. “My father died in battle.” He said. “I have less fond memories of my father. He was often away on duties.”

The girl turned back to me. “Did you catch the person that killed your father?”

“I did.” I told her. “Along with the help of a number of friends. We caught them, we tried them, and in the end, my father received justice. It did not make me feel better. I would much rather have my father back. But in the end. He was my father, and if I cannot have him back, I will take the justice.”

She nodded before staring back into the fire. “Thankyou for your honesty.” She said. “I agree, it is not the kinds of things that people say in stories. They say that things get better, that there will be hardship and things but that everything will be alright in the end. It always struck me as being a little unrealistic.”

“Things are never completely alright.” I told her. “They just get replaced by other things.”

She nodded to this too as she took that in.

“My name is Lord Frederick von Coulthard.” I told her. Her eyes widened a little which I took to meaning that she recognised the name. “Behind me is Madame La Comtesse, Ariadne du Angral and with me is Sir Guillaume de Launfal.”

She nodded at the names, quailing in fear at Ariadne but also being reassured that neither Guillaume nor myself seemed to be afraid.

“We are looking to bring the people who killed your father to justice.” I told her. “And to ensure that no other people have to die.”

She nodded before seeming to screw up her courage. “My name is Caroline de Vasseur. Countess de Vasseur now I suppose although it doesn’t really mean that much other than the title itself.”

I smiled. “I remember thinking such things myself. And now I am on first name terms with the Empress and my fiancee is a Countess and a vampire to boot. The world can take funny turns at times.”

She didn’t believe me, I found myself wondering if I had been that naive when I was sixteen. Also wondering whether or not I had been that bad at hiding what I was thinking from anyone watching my face.

The answer, for those who are wondering, is that of course I was that bad at things. I was sixteen and resenting the fact that I was working for the Redanian intelligence corps when I would much rather have been with my brother actually fighting the enemy.

I am no longer that naive and am well aware that I owe my survival to the fact that I was not assigned to the front. Barely knowing which part of the sword to grip would have had an important effect on my chances of survival.

“As you say,” she began carefully. “I cannot have my father back. So on balance, I too will be forced to settle for justice over a miracle. What do you need from me?”

I took a deep breath.

“We know that Lady Moineau was killed. We think you warned her in advance. How did you know that that was coming?”

She took a deep breath. “I didn’t know. I strongly suspected. I rather thought that she was in danger and that, if I had the chance, I should warn her. She didn’t listen.”

“People rarely listen to those kinds of warnings.” Guillaume said. “Especially from younger people.”

“But how did you know that?” I asked.

“I overheard.” She said before sighing. “Could I have some more tea please?”

Guillaume refilled the cup.

“I don’t really know where to begin.” She mused.

Ariadne kicked me in the back and I shut my mouth with a snap. Thus avoiding my usual saying in the face of that kind of declaration.

“I know who I am.” She started much more decisively when she got given the cup back. “I know that I am rumoured to be the daughter of my father, the late Count Vasseur and the Duchess Anna Henrietta.” She smirked. “Believe me when I say that I heartily wish that this was not the case. It would make my life so much easier.

“But before I go any further, it is important that you know that I don’t actually know whether any of that is true or not. I never knew my mother. I have met the Duchess once when I was introduced at court a couple of years ago but I was one among many. I curtseyed and didn’t look her in the eye as I had been taught. She complimented my frock and asked after my father, re-emphasising that they had once been close friends. I have seen her from a distance of course, but I don’t think that she could pick me out of a crowd.

“I know that I resemble her but the more people I ask about that, the more it seems that the only similarities seem to be about my hair colour and posture.

“The other option for my mother is a peasant woman. If I try really hard I can remember the smell of cooking herbs and bread. The rumours about that kind of thing suggest that she was a woman that my father chose for her similarities to the Duchess, I don’t know whether that was true or not, although there are certainly days where I prefer that tale of my birth. It would make life so much easier.

“I asked my…” She coughed and swallowed. All of this had the cadence of a story that she had told many times, a practised speech even. “I asked my father who my mother was on several occasions. Well, three times. The most recent being when all of this began, and each time he gave the same answer. He told me that it did not matter who my mother was. He said that all I had to know was that he loved me and that my mother loved me.”

Mother loved me. The suggestion that she was still alive. I put that away to think about it later.

“He told me that it was important that my background stay ambiguous. He said that if I was definitely the Duchess’ daughter then I would never have a quiet life again and that I would become a tool for the use of less worthy men. But then he also said that if it was confirmed that my mother was a peasant woman, then the reputation of being a common born bastard would tarnish me forever.

“So there I was, trapped between two worlds. Neither important enough to marry, or kill but important enough to open doors.

“To be honest, I found the entire thing rather tiresome. There would regularly be men who would come by. Strong Knights on tall horses with shining swords. Beautiful men, ugly men, old men, young men. They would gather in my father’s private study which was little more than a room with a desk, a spare chair and a bottle of brandy. Then they would talk for a while before either my father would get angry, or they would get angry and the visitor would leave.

“The other side of me also got suitors. There was a farmer’s son that seemed, to me at least, to be much more agreeable than all of the Knights. But father wouldn’t have it. It was one of the few really bad arguments that we had and neither of us ever apologised for what we said. He told me that the daughter of a Count deserved better than a farmer’s son and I told him that I didn’t want to be a Countess anyway.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. I was a little frustrated. I wanted to get to the meat of the matter but I could also recognise a person in full flow. Someone who was talking themselves into telling the story.

“I don’t know when exactly it started.” She had gone back to a quieter, smaller voice. “But I think it was quite a while ago. The first time that I knew anything about it was that a Knight rode up. There was nothing unusual about that. There have always been Knights coming to our door. He was fully encased in armour, helmed with a full face plate so there was no way of knowing who the person was but again, there was nothing unusual in that. He was just a Knight.

“Something was different though. I could just tell. He moved more confidently. He was more comfortable around my father. Father was more welcoming. More friendly. The kind of thing where I look back and think… I should have seen it coming.”

“Hindsight is a wonderful thing.” I told her. “But it is also an overrated tool. Learn from it, but don’t use it as a whip for flogging yourself.”

“That is what Father would have said.” She nodded.

“All I know is that the Knight and Father went into Father’s study. There was nothing unusual about that. That was always what happened. They stayed there for a while and talked. I tried listening at the door but they were speaking quietly and in the end I gave up and went away. There was always dinner to prepare and the like, always a chore that needs doing when you live in a countryside cottage. Father was never patient enough to be a good cook and now it felt like we would have an extra mouth to feed. Although I couldn’t believe that a Knight like that one would be satisfied by our simple rabbit and turnip stew.

“In the end though, the meeting was over far quicker than I thought it would be. Father and the Knight emerged, shook hands in that stupid, wrist to wrist way that seems to make men feel as though they’re more masculine than they actually are. The Knight climbed on his horse and rode away. A different direction from the one that he used to ride up.

““Who was that?” I wondered aloud of my Father, who seemed to be more cheerful than I could remember him being in some years.

“I remember him being startled from a thought process. “With a bit of luck,” he said, “That will be your husband.”

““Who is he?” I asked. I remember being wary. Not least because Father had taught me to be wary of men that approached me.

““His identity needs to remain secret.” He told me. “He is running a great risk by approaching us but out of all people, he has the most to lose here.”

“I remember watching my Father for a long time. “You don’t like him.” I guessed.

““I am your Father.” He joked. “I would dislike anyone who came to take my daughter away from me.”

“I remember thinking that it was a diversion. I know a little bit about courtly politics and I could recognise an effort to divert attention away from a particular subject when I saw it. But past history had already taught me that Father would not have responded in a positive way if I had pushed it too much further. He didn’t want to talk about it and when Father decided that he didn’t want to talk about something then even if the continent was ending in fire and smoke, he still wouldn’t talk about it.”

She stared into the fire.

“After that I received a letter.” She said the words bitterly and scornfully. “It was the first of many. There was not much in it. It was a poem, a love poem actually. It was well written, both in the poetry forms and with careful penmanship. It talked about a chaste and far off love that was pure and noble of heart and intention.

“The following day, a single red rose turned up on our doorstep. No-one could say how it got there and when we asked the local villagers if anyone had been seen with such things, then we were told that there were no strangers in the local area.

“I showed both the letter and the flower to Father. He nodded, he kind of pursed his lips in that way that I always think of as being my Father’s version of pouting. But then he nodded and moved on.

“And that was the way it worked. Every day or so there would be a small gift. Flowers, a poem, something.”

Her face scrunched together as though she was in pain. “I thought it was romantic…” She sobbed.

We were just at the stage of stopping so that the poor girl could have a rest when she brought herself back under control.

“Gradually it became clear that we were building towards a meeting of some kind. I was guilty of it too, I wrote to him, leaving letters in specific spots where I had found my own gifts, begging to be allowed to see his face. To see who it was. A name, a sign, something so that I could know who my admirer was. I took my problems to Father but he didn’t seem to be concerned. As though he knew something that I didn’t. I could have pushed, I suppose but the other truth is that I was a little in love with the mystery.”

She shook her head violently.

“I first saw him at dusk. I received detailed instructions. I had already guessed that my admirer was a Knight of some kind…”

“How?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“It was in the way he spoke.” She told me. “The penmanship was round and basic. The writing of a man that had learned his letters and then decided that it was unimportant. That he had other things to worry about. Other things to do.”

I nodded. That would make sense.

“I remember walking through the meadow as the sun sank beneath the horizon. I could hear the birds in the trees and hear the buzzing of the bees in the flowers. It was the most romantic night of my life as I came to the place that I had been told to wait. I stood and waited, watching the sun as it sank further and further towards the horizon before I would turn away when the brightness became too much.

“And then, just as the last rays of the sun were shining over the mountains. I saw him. Sitting on his horse a short way off. Beams of sunlight bathing his armour so that it glittered. His horse neighed and reared up as he drew his sword in salute.” Her words became broken and bitter. “I remember thinking it was so romantic. This stolen glimpse of a man that I was coming to love. He was wrapping me round his fingers so very easily because I wanted it to happen. I wanted to be seduced.”

I said nothing. I was remembering another sixteen year old girl. And I remembered Marion telling me in a quiet voice that sixteen year old girls, sometimes, they just want to have sex with something. I had to concentrate not to shake my head in disgust. She seemed like a girl who was torn between self-loathing, grief and hatred of others. Walking the Knife edge before she fell down the cliff.

“After that though, the tone of things changed. Father received a letter and he called me into his office. It was not a long conversation. He told me that he had friends at court and that they were telling him that I was in danger. What that danger was, he couldn’t tell me. I got various little hints later that seemed to suggest that the Duchess was communicating with foreign powers for a new husband. And rumours of my parentage were resulting in the foreign power demanding that I be removed so as to clear the way for any issue of that union, a straight line to the Ducal throne.”

Guillaume shifted in his seat.

“Father told me that I would need to stay at home for a while. That going outside, especially away from the cottage would be dangerous. It was not the first time that I had been threatened in such a way or for such a reason. I have sometimes even wondered if the Duchess herself had sent warnings in the past. My admirer added his own words to the warning, advising me to do as my Father said so that I could be safe and that there would be no problems. He told me that he loved me and that he would do anything to help.

“I was writing back to him regularly now. He had told me a place that I could leave letters that would be sure to get to him safely and that no-one would be able to interfere with. I begged him to tell me what was going on, I begged him for more signs and I begged him that I might be able to see him again.

“He started to visit. Still in his full face helm to protect both himself and myself, or so he told me. We would go for walks in the meadow as I was beginning to get grumpy that I wasn’t allowed outside and I still prefer the smell of fresh air whenever I get the chance. I pleaded with Father to let me go and in turn he would insist that this Knight be allowed to accompany me. It was all very chaste, I would walk with my hand resting on his as he helped me over logs and streams that I would normally have leaped over anyway but it was nice to be looked after.

“He would speak in whispers, quiet words so that I was forced to bend closer to him in order to hear. Now, I can think that it was a tool to increase physical intimacy, but then, it added an air of clandestine romance to it all. I loved it.”

She stopped speaking again. The words have been tumbling out of her quickly and fluidly. So teh stop was jarring.

“One night we were walking among the trees and he stopped, staring into the woods before he stopped and turned to me. “Run.” He said. “Run back to your home.” And then he drew his sword.

“I fled. What else could I have done.

“He came later. Father had taken down his sword and stood guard and we could hear the clash of armour as he walked up to our door. I ran out, I couldn’t help myself and there was my rescuer, my protector.”

She snorted bitterly.

“My Guardian. He was injured and was pressing his hand against his side. We helped him up to my room where we had to take his armour off. I know a bit of healing and I was insistent. I told him that I needed to take his helmet off and that I needed to examine the wounds. He fought at first but it soon became clear that I was going to overpower him and he relented.

“And so I saw him for the first time.”

She shuddered. “I still get excited at the thought of it. I still feel my breath catch in my throat. He was… he was beautiful. I cared for him with a few pieces of advice from Father. I bound his cuts and strapped up his side. He… said things to me. He told me that he loved me and that he had come to love me as he cared for me and fought for my safety. He told me that I had a gentle touch, a gentle soul and then... he took my hand…”

She shook her head. “Before I knew it, I was kissing him. And then…” She shook her head.

She shook her head in denial.

“You don’t need to say.” I whispered. Feeling the need to console but also not to break the spell.

“What?” Her mind caught up with her ears. “No. Nothing happened. Not then anyway. Father clumped about and I pulled away from him. My rescuer… who’s name I still did not know. Sat up and told Father that it was becoming dangerous for me to stay there. That I should leave and that I would be protected. Up until that point, I would have fought it. I would have insisted upon remaining in my home and away from strangers but an odd kind of longing was in me then. I wanted to go with my rescuer so badly that I could almost feel it. I was…” She drifted on lost thoughts.

“You don’t need to explain yourself.” I said. “I know what it’s like to burn for someone.”

“Yes,” The girl crowed. “That was exactly what it was like. I burned for him. His touch set my skin on fire and I… would shudder with it.”

I nodded.

“I begged Father to be allowed to go. He told me that he would protect me and I had to ask him, I had to ask him how he would do that. He was, after all, crippled. Once, he might have been the best sword in Toussaint but now?”

She shook her head.

“Oh Father, I’m so sorry. That was your last effort I think, looking back. That was your last effort to save me. If I wanted to stay behind then he would have known. But I didn’t listen. I didn’t.”

“We never listen to our parents.” Guillaume joined in with the comforting. “We never listen, they know that we are not going to listen but they have to try, and they love us for it regardless.

“I left that morning. Clinging to the back of the man that I was becoming convinced that I had fallen in love with. He seemed to be more stable. More relaxed. I asked him whether his injuries were troubling him given his obvious pain when he had been on the bed. He told me that my touch had been magical and that I had all but healed him.”

She snorted

“He brought me to a cottage in the woods after we had travelled for a day or so. We took the long way around, far from the roads and the villages.”

“How long ago was this?” I wondered.

“A couple of months ago. This will have been in the early autumn or so.” She snorted. “I thought it was all romantic.”

Guillaume and I exchanged glances. This had been going on for a while then.

“It was a nice cottage. In truth, it was nicer than the house that I shared with Father. The Knight told me that it was his hunting lodge, that the people that I saw there were absolutely trustworthy and devoted to my safety. That I had nothing to fear from any of them.

“I remember being scared. After the Witch and everything that happened later, my fear seems ridiculous to me now. They were, after all, only men. But at the time I found their rough manners and ugly faces frightening. But the insides of the house were lovely. Thick wall hangings, warm carpets and the bed was luxurious and wonderful. A far cry from my straw stuffed mattress at home. There was a large Kitchen with all the supplies that I could need and there was a heavy scent in the air. I was shown a place where there were several dresses and things for me to wear. I was shown where the well was and the best way to heat the water should I want a bath. I was overwhelmed by it all. I didn’t know what to think or what to do.”

I looked over at Guillaume, wondering if he had come to the same conclusion that I had. The Knight had taken this poor girl to his love nest.

“He left quickly after that. Leaving me to the care of the maid. She was a nice woman called Elise who looked after me while my rescuer was gone, to see to my protection he said. He didn’t come back for two days and I felt myself beginning to get scared. I needn’t have worried though, I was perfectly safe and I should have known that. I should have…

“He came two nights later and sat me down to talk to me. His speech was long and flowery and I don’t really remember that much of it as I was too busy… heh… drowning in his eyes. He spoke softly, lovingly. He would go to touch me and stroke me before pulling back. Hardly seeming to realise that I was longing for his touch. He told me that I was in danger. That people were coming for me because of what I might mean for the Duchess. He told me that he was part of the faction that sought to keep the Duchy safe. They were loyal to the Duchess but they weren’t sure who else was and so they had to move carefully. He told me that he was to keep me safe but in doing so, in watching me from afar, he had come to love me. That he had grown to care for me as more than the symbol and come to know me as the woman.”

Again, she shook her head bitterly.

“The following day he came back with a cut across his brow that he asked me to help him stitch up because he couldn’t trust anyone else not to poison him during the healing.

“My heart wept for him then.” She sneered as she said it.

“He did not come back for some time. There were other men there. Always there were other men there and they kept Elise and I in the cottage, forbade us from having fires at night that might give away our position to marauding killers that might be in the woods. We would huddle together for warmth and shiver with fear around the fire boxes that we heated with the embers from the fire but they never keep the heat properly.

“Then he didn’t turn up one day. And another day and another and another. I fell for it. I curse myself every day, but I fell for it. Like the stupid, naive girl that I am. I fell for it. So that when he finally came through the door, looking tired and weary I leapt at him and covered his face in kisses. He told me that it was wrong. That he shouldn’t. I argued that he had already admitted that he loved me and so, in return, I loved him.

“And I did.” She looked at the three of us with the huge eyes of a person that was concerned about their own sanity. “I did love him. I did.”

“We know.” I told her. “It’s ok. We don’t blame you.”

“Agreed.” Guillaume rumbled although he was unable to keep the anger from his voice. “You were poorly used child, poorly used and taken advantage of.”

She bridled a little in reflex anger at being called child and that anger derailed her tears a little. Like I had so often while working with Guillaume. I wondered whether he had done it that way intentionally, or whether he had just said it aloud for that reason.

“You don’t know the half of it.” She said. “My blood was up. I was desperate to show him how much I loved him. I was desperate and I begged him to let me love him. He protested. He told me that he was given to a loveless marriage, to a shrew of a woman that his parents had forced him to marry. He couldn’t have drawn my heart to him more if he tried. I promised that I would love him and that I would not betray him. So many promises. So many oaths as I wept and I pleaded with him to love me.

“He relented. Of course he relented and he allowed me to take him into my room. It was all over so fast and… and it…”

“It hurt.” Ariadne said gently.

The girl nodded miserably. “I thought it would be this wondrous thing. This glorious thing that would combine our two souls into one. I thought it would be the ultimate expression of love and instead, I was sore, it was messy, it was kind of boring and when he rolled off me he reached for the jug of watered wine that I kept at the side of my bed, poured himself a cup without offering me one, and said “Well that was different.””

“Ok. That’s enough.” Ariadne stepped forward and wrapped the girl in her arms. “From one woman to another there are things that you should know.”

“But you’re a vampire.” THe girl protested.

“I still have the relevant bits.” Ariadne told her with a smile and the young Countess smiled.

“Sometimes it hurts. Especially after you’ve had a break and not done it for a while. Sometimes it is boring, especially when you yourself are not particularly invested in the act or the person that you are with is not particularly skilled.” Ariadne considered. “Or they are only interested in their own pleasure.”

“Which amounts to the same thing.” I muttered. I was hoping to say that under my breath but of course Ariadne heard me.

“Quite right Freddie.” She said before talking to the girl again. “But it can be wondrous. It can be glorious and it can be…. What did you call it? The ultimate expression of love. As well as providing you with enough pleasure to melt your thought processes. But to get to all of those things, you need the right partner, a little practice yourself and you need to know what you yourself like. I agree with Guillaume in that you have been sorely used but do not think that this is all that romance has to offer you. You are young, strong, charming, intelligent, brave and beautiful. This is not the end of things for you. Someone will come along that can make you feel the way that you want and need.”

“That’s easy for you to say.”

“Yes it is.” Ariadne admitted. “But one day, when I am proven right, you will remember this moment. But for now, time is growing short. Please continue your story.”

Countess Vasseur nodded. “The following day was worse. We barely spoke. He just arrived, hung his cloak up, turned to me and said “Come, be a woman to your man.” The only thing that could be said about the second time was that it hurt a little less. But after he was gone, I realised what had happened. In the cold light of the moon I started to reexamine everything that had happened up to that point and I realised what had become of me.

“I had become the man’s mistress. I was just a toy, a play thing, a pretty jewel that he had added to his collection. I looked around and I saw all the signs that I was far from the first either. I saw the dresses that didn’t quite fit me that were obviously made for someone else. I saw the gaudy and cheap jewellery. I examined the events that had led me to this place and I began to see how easily I had been seduced. It was not hard. One of my few escapes from a young age had been reading and there are many stories that speak of exactly this kind of seduction. Not a year before I had read a romance where a woman was rescued from just a situation as I found myself in. My Knight might as well have copied the method used to make me his from exactly that book.

“I remember, as I had read it, that I swore to myself that I would never be that stupid. That I couldn’t be that stupid. I even said that the stupidity in the book was a contrivance of plot and although I enjoyed the basic romance of the story, I ridiculed that particular part for being too unrealistic. And I hated myself for it.

“The fictional heroine was eventually rescued by a noble Knight and they married and had many wonderful children. But now I found that my eyes were opened. Such things happen in these romantic fantasies but this was the real world. So I resolved to make the most of it while I could. When he came to give me gifts as I was sure he would until my beauty, or youth, or whatever it was that had drawn him to me, began to fade. He would need to keep me sweet, keep me hooked onto his charms. So I would take those gifts and I would keep them. And when the time came I would flee, sell the jewels and the dresses and I would go somewhere.

“I didn’t know where I would go of course. My first thought had always been that I would flee to where my Father was but it was clear that My Father had suspected what was going on. If he hadn’t known it directly. So as well as myself, I also had quite a lot of anger towards my Father as well.”

“Not to your seducer?” Guillaume wondered.

She laughed bitterly. It was an old noise. There was an age to that laughter that seemed odd to come out of so young a person. “No. I did not hate him. He had played the game and he had won. He had won me and I deserved what was happening to me now. And…” She looked over at Ariadne. “And I loved him. He had played me so completely that I still wanted to believe that there were other things to happen. That he was protecting me from some dark and sinister faction within the court. I knew there wasn’t, but I wanted there to be those things.

“So I started to relax into my new life. He would come to me for a few days in a row and then he would stay away for a week or even longer. Then he would come back to my life. I would be lying if I said it was completely unpleasant. I found that there was even some enjoyment and the ghost of pleasure in the bed chamber, even if it sounded as though some of the things that the villagers had told me were a bit exaggerated. But as I became used to them, the sensations were far from unpleasant.

“I even learned to enjoy my life. They had let go of some of the pretenses. We were no longer kept from keeping a fire in the evening so the food was simple, but of good quality. Amazing to think that even with simple food, the better quality ingredients can make all the difference. Eventually, I was even allowed to go into town on my own errands. My… heh… Paramour was encouraging of this. He wanted me to have some dresses made and I was learning what to say and when to say it in order to get some small luxuries. The means that I would eventually make my escape which I kept under one of the floorboards.

“And that was my life. I exercised, we spent time together, he and I and I liked to believe that we were coming to an understanding. He was charming, witty, but there was a lack of pretense to our relationship then. He moaned about his wife a lot. He complained about people putting him under undue pressure. He complained about how people weren’t keeping to the old traditions and such like. Not paying him the respect that he deserved. I was a little sympathetic to that I will admit. After all, I lived in poverty and yet people call me Countess. But he rather seemed to take it to extremes.

“I also found out his name. One of the men-at-arms that was around the place called him Sir Alain which did not please him very much. But then there was no avoiding the matter. He was forced to admit that he was Baron Alain de Moineau. Which put a new wrinkle on things and I was concerned for a while. Now that I knew who he was, there was more risk involved in the scandal. As a result, it might be more expedient to simply slit my throat and bury me in a ditch in the woods.

“I knew who he was now of course and gossip made it clear that I was the latest in a long line of young and pretty women that he had taken to his bed. I did not delude myself into thinking that I would last any longer and started to make a point of letting what friends I was making, know where I was and what I was doing.

“Eventually, this would have been a few weeks ago now. I screwed up my courage and asked him what was to become of me. He looked confused as I recall. I told him that I was aware of my status, I told him that I loved him but I was trying to be realistic. I told him that I knew that he would eventually tire of me and that I would be set aside, even killed to prevent a scandal. He reacted wonderfully.”

Again, the sarcasm and disdain was obvious in her voice.

“We were by a stream at the time. Having a picnic. I told him all of that and the most eloquent expression of horror came across his face. He told me that he was waiting and that he begged that I be patient. He told me that his wife was not performing properly and had been unable to provide him with an heir. So she was not far off from getting to the stage where she would set aside.

“He told me that he loved me and that he would marry me then. I told him that I was aware of his reputation and wondered if he said that to all the women that he had known. He took it surprisingly well. He caressed my cheek before asking in a small and broken voice, if I truly thought so little of him.

“It was a good line and excellently delivered. I let him screw me next to the stream. We called it making love but I don’t believe that any more.”

“When did you know things were getting dangerous?” I wondered. My impatience finally getting the best of me.

She thought about this for a while. “I realised that he was becoming less interested in me. He gave the impression of a man who was doing an unpleasant chore when he came to see me. He was still playing me wonderfully, seeing to it that I was happy and enthralled with his charm and his beauty. And I was, but I also felt that he was… I’m not quite sure how to put this. He was getting bored with me.”

I nodded. That would track with what we knew of Sir Alain. Fickle wasn’t the word for it.

“He was becoming distant, bored, perfunctory about things. I felt like a duty and it took me a while to find out why. At first, I just assumed that that was it. That he had grown bored with me. I thought that there might be a time if and when someone rejected him knowing his reputation, and that he would come back to me with renewed… vigor. But instead, another man came to see him.

“I didn’t know him. I am sure that I had never seen him before, nor did I recognise his voice. He was dressed in a plain suit of chain mail and rode a plain horse. His sword was also… boring. It was dull and unornamented.”

I nodded. I smelled a disguise, which was significant, but it didn’t help us identify who it was that had come to pay a visit.

“I was told to go and wait in the other room as there was private business to discuss. As it turned out, the cottage wasn’t just his love nest, but it was also the place where he had the meetings that he didn’t want to be talking about in public.”

“You listened didn’t you.”

“Of course.” She said, seemingly affronted. “I was Sir Alain’s mistress now. I knew it and he knew that I knew it. Whether he knew that I was putting away some of the gifts that he had given me against the day that he grew bored of me or not, I have no way to check. But there are more than one kinds of treasure and information might be invaluable. If only because it might give me a clue as to where to go when I was thrown out. Or even where not to go.”

I nodded. It all made sense. “I wasn’t condemning you.” I told her and she calmed.

“They made small talk for a while, talking about business and things. I noticed that the other man had a harsh voice, I rather thought he was a foreigner. Strange to Toussaint. He was also more concerned with trade routes than others might be. He had a hold over Alain of some kind although I couldn’t tell what it was. Certainly, Alain was behaving in a subservient manner. He was looking for the foreigner’s approval in some way. Offering drinks, cakes, that kind of thing.”

I nodded again. That was important information.

“Then they got to talking about their plans. It seemed that things were moving into place to their satisfaction. There had been a set back to the first part of their plans it would seem. Something had gone wrong. Their first “target” had not gone well but the recovery had been made. Alain had seemed to sympathise. I remember him saying something like “That’s what you get for hiring amateurs.” The other man agreed.

“But apparently they both answered to a third man. This man had come up with an alternative. This man had suggested the idea of using the pretense of Jack in the matters of things. That would mean that less would need to be involved. That the superstitions of the peasants would work against “them” which I took to be talking about the Knights of Saint Francesca given the context.

“Accordingly, things were turning out well in that regard. That the Knights hadn’t caught proper wind of things yet but things were moving. Soon they would be able to move onto some proper targets. The stranger asked Alain if he could suggest any more targets that might provoke scandal. Alain asked what kind. He was told “girls who rejected your advances. Alain gave him a list of names.”

“You are sure that that was what was said?” I wondered. “Proper targets?”

“That was what they said. They were working up to some people that they needed to die. I don’t know why they didn’t just go straight into those targets but… It seemed as though they wanted diversionary names.”

“Was one of the names “Marie Tratamara?”” Guillaume wondered

“It was. Alain suggested it to the other man as someone that had rejected his advances. I didn’t know who she was or I would have warned her too, I swear I would.”

“It’s alright.” I reassured her. “What did they say then?”

“Alain said that he was becoming impatient for that part of the plan to move on. That things at home were becoming tiresome and that his wife was spending more and more time moping off with that friend of hers rather than properly staying at home and loving him the way that a wife should.”

““And it will free you up to marry…” The other man said. The way he said it left me certain that he was talking about me. The way he tailed off suggested that he nodded towards my door.

““Yes of course.” Alain said. I remember it clearly.

““Is she pregnant yet?” THe other man asked.

““Not yet. Although it isn’t for lack of trying. Like my wife, she is stubbornly refusing to get pregnant.” Alain replied.

“I was a little upset at this. I was not averse to becoming pregnant, it would more closely bind Alain to me. It would mar me even further in public but it would mean that my exile would be more comfortable. And having a child to love… I hoped that it would help mend my broken heart a little.

““Yes well.” The other man seemed uncomfortable. “You should devote yourself to the matter more surely. I am not the only one who has noticed you in the company of Lady Bescond.”

““I need to maintain my…” Alain was defensive so I knew he had been caught out.”

““Yes you do.” The other man agreed. “But the girl will make our plans that much simpler. Getting her pregnant will ensure that she is properly compliant with what we need her to do.””

““She is young.” Alain said. “Once my wife is... removed then she will fall in line at the promise of a proper marriage rather than life of shame.”

““I agree.” The man said. “However I also agree with the others that point out that it would ensure matters more if she is pregnant.”

“I withdrew from the door then and started to make some other plans of my own. I was angry and disappointed. I will admit, as I say, to not being averse to the idea of marrying Alain. He was handsome and charming enough when he wanted to be. Nor was I resistant to the idea of being pregnant by him. But I was hurt by the truth that I was clearly an afterthought. He had been sent to me. Instructed to seduce me. It was neither my position, charms or looks that had drawn him to me.

“That hurt. That really hurt. It might make me naive, childish and girlish, but I hated that I had been so easily seduced. I started going over all the events that had led me to this point and this place. The threat of bandits, the injuries that I had helped heal. All the things that he said or did that made me love him that little bit more.

“I wept at the betrayal and I still wept when he came to me that night, presumably with a view to attempting to follow his instructions. He asked me why I was weeping and I told him that I wept at the sudden premonition that I might lose him. That he believed me is still astonishing to me.”

“Men believe what they want to believe.” Ariadne told her.

Guillaume grunted in agreement. “Especially when it comes to matters of a lady's affections.”

I was astonished at Guillaume’s cynicism there.

“I wondered whether any of it was real. Any of it at all.” The girl seemed to have missed the fact that we had been talking. “I thought about the scars from that night when he had “saved me” from the bandits. I remembered how straight they were and how… shallow they were. To the point that they did not leave a scar after a matter of days. I remembered all the stories about brave warriors that are covered in scars to their front which always show that they faced their enemies rather than turning their backs on them. And then I tried to think of any of the other scars that my lover had over his body. I realised that he had none.

“He chose his fights. I was aware of his reputation about his skills with a sword but then I knew. He chose his fights. He didn’t defend me, he didn’t defend Toussaint. He chose fights where he knew he could win.

“I remembered the ease with which he climbed aboard his horse the day after he had been injured. I remembered that and all the other ways that he had convinced me that I was in danger. All the other ways that he made me believe that he loved me… and then…” She sobbed.

It was an odd thing to watch. She seemed to clench up as though every muscle in her entire body just fired at the same time. She visibly gritted her teeth, clenched her fists, squeezed her eyes shut. And then it seemed to drift away from her. All of that emotion that had her in the grips of whatever it was that was going on just seemed to gradually drain away, as though it was water swirling down a hole.

And she opened her eyes.

“I hated him then. I felt less of him and in the early hours of the morning, I finally started to calm down and go over what he, and this other man had said. The main thing that stood out was that they referred to various “targets” and one of those things was about how Alain’s wife would be removed. The suggestion was that I could then take her place.

“My father had insisted on ensuring that I had a proper education in certain matters. I was also well aware of my potential status. I thought, and still think really, that the entire thing was ridiculous. I would have been much happier if he had let me go off and be some farmer’s wife, to tend to family and a house of my own. But I could see the danger. I was going to be used as a weapon against the Duchess. I was going to be a tool to allow Alain to sit on the throne of the Duchy. I could see it quite clearly. I guessed that the “targets” were going to be people that would undermine and disrupt the protection of the Duchy and it would culminate with the death of the Duchess and that I would be produced as a living heir.

“I had little doubt that Alain was a figurehead. He was charming, handsome and skilled with a blade. But it was all the surface. I knew that now. It was a mask to get on with things. He would be a puppet and there were others behind him that would take advantage of that and use his naivete, and mine, against us. And then, at some point in the future, I would no longer be required and something would happen to me. Leaving Alain as our Duke and leaving him free to marry for politics, or to marry a younger and prettier face than my own.

“And I decided, in the early hours of the morning that I wouldn’t stand for it.”

“Hold on.” I jumped in. “I just want to go back to the stranger that met with Sir Alain.”

“Don’t call him that.” Countess Vasseur snapped. In that moment, I began to see the Countess, the noble woman that she could become if she was allowed to grow up and survive. I even think that she would make a good Duchess given the chance. “Do not call him that. He is not a Knight. There are good men and fine warriors that deserve the title more than he does. There are women, villagers and farmers that have done more for the Duchy than he has even dreamed of doing. Call him Alain. He barely deserves even that much.”

I nodded. I had an almost overwhelming urge to bow.

“What else can you tell me, tell us, about the stranger?”

She closed her eyes and leant her head back. “He was tall, a little shorter than Alain, but still tall. He was in disguise and I never saw his face.”

“What did his voice sound like?” I asked. “You said that he sounded foreign?”

“Yes. Yes he did.”

“What did it sound like. Did it sound like my voice?”

“No, it was a rounder sound. A little more clipped.”

“I suppose I should ask the obvious question. Did you recognise the voice? Or the accent?”

“No. I think he was disguising his voice. Especially in front of me. He spoke quietly as well so that I had to strain to hear him through the door. I didn’t know the accent. Sorry. I don’t hear many different accents in living with my Father.”

“That’s alright.” I said, leaning back.

“What about his armour?” Guillaume asked. “You said it was dull and plain. Was it polished, like mine?”

“No. It was dull and grey. Tarnished and scarred.”

Guillaume nodded. “How did he move in it? Was he comfortable, was he used to it? Did he move easily?”

She thought about this for a while. “He seemed used to it. He certainly seemed to move well enough.” She thought a bit more. “He groaned when he sat down on a chair. And,” she grinned at a thought. “His armour made him look overweight. You see that occasionally with some of the older Knights that occasionally came to visit father. Men who have not been in the saddle as much recently and attended a few too many rich banquets.”

Guillaume nodded. “Thank you.”

“You were telling us about your early morning schemes.” I prompted.

“Yes.” She took a sip from her drink and frowned. Guillaume offered her a top up. “I reasoned that I was probably safe. They needed me for their plans. So I decided that I would have a certain amount of leeway. They could threaten me, but not only did they need to keep me safe and happy, but I thought that no-one else I knew was at risk. If Father was threatened or... “ She swallowed. “Or killed. Then I would not be so malleable. They knew this so I.. naively,” She grimaced. “Thought that I could get away with it. I would need to be careful. I couldn’t go too far or they would cut me out and I wouldn’t be able to help anyone.

“The one target that I knew about was Lady Moineau. I had seen her around in Beauclair on those times that I had been into town. She is not hard to miss. There is… was… this cloud of gossip that followed her around. This wave of sympathy for her and her circumstances. I had no idea that things were so bad for her or I would have felt more guilt. I only found out that that was the case when I went looking for her. I soon learnt that the story about her dying or living in disgrace was just that. A story. The common accusation was that the reason that there were no children was because Alain was too busy chasing after other women than being at home in his marital bed. I felt… sorry for her. But I found her eventually and arranged to have someone pass her a note.”

“We know about the note.” I told her. “We know that you met her in front of the Nilfgaardian embassy.”

“She did not take it well. But I suppose, how do you take news like that well. Here was this younger, prettier girl telling her that her husband had a mistress, in the figure of said younger, prettier girl. And that her husband was planning her death. I handled it badly. Of course I did, but in the flip of my earlier comment, how do you do such a thing differently.

“She grew angry. Called me a liar and threatened to call the Watch before she stormed off. I told her that she could leave a message with a dressmaker that I like and trust. I had become a regular customer there since my… being taken in by Alain.

“And then I waited. I waited to see if I would overhear anything else. If there was some other way that I could counter Alain’s or the people he worked for, plans. But nothing came up. And then, it will have been last night… A Witcher came to my door. And by door, I mean he climbed through the back window into the house.

“I remember wanting to scream.”

“A lot of people have that reaction when they first see Kerrass.” I couldn’t help it. The line just popped out of my mouth before I could have a chance to head it off.

“I can agree with that.” Ariadne added. “Although I was busy decomposing at the time.”

We were rewarded by the young Countess giggling at the thought. “He was dirty, pale, his eyes seemed to glow a little bit and there were these thin spidery lines underneath his skin. There was a moment there where I could have sworn that he had fangs.”

“I knew it.” I cheered to much amusement. And by amusement I mean that there was some wry chuckling.

“I opened my mouth to scream and he gave this strange series of gestures to me and I found myself calming down when he told me so. Then he told me to stay where I was as he strode over and listened at the door.

““Who else is here?” He asked and I told him about Elise who was probably asleep at that time of night. It should be said that I was in a nightdress. I had long since decided that Alain was not going to be visiting that night and as such, I had changed into some warmer, heavier clothing rather than the thin, sleeker material that Alain prefers me to wear, the better to protect myself against the cold. I was suddenly filled with all of the old stories about the unnatural lusts that a Witcher must suffer through.”

This time I managed to keep my mouth shut, but I won’t lie. It was a close run thing there for a second.

“He prowled around the room for a while, he had this strange, silvery medallion in his hands that he was waving around as he looked inside my wardrobe, in the drawers that I kept my… more personal items in. I wanted to complain. I wanted to shriek my outrage but I just couldn’t.

“When he was satisfied, he turned to me and looked me up and down. I am aware of what I look like and I am aware of how my… body as well as my rank and background, can make me more attractive to the average male. I have seen appraising looks where people look at me with lust in their eyes. But there was none of that here. He was… appraising. As though he was trying to guess how valuable I was.

“He didn’t waste any time. He pulled a small bottle from his belt and drank it off at a swallow. His eyes stopped seeming to have their strange glow, his skin became closer to a normal colour and even as I looked, I could no longer see fangs, or the black lines that had seemed to dance under his skin.

““I can see why he likes you.” Were his first words.

““Why who likes me?” I demanded.

““Come now Lady.” He said. “From everything I have heard about you, you are far from foolish. The fact that you have a large stash of gems, small coin and several other valuable items under a hidden floorboard, over there next to the chest of drawers, speaks to that. However, I would suggest that in the future, should you need a hiding place, I would recommend against a floorboard that squeaks when you move over it.”

““Where should I hide things then?” I demanded. “Underneath my pillow?”

“He had a strange, half smile. “No, that would be worse. If you are confident that you are not going to be stripped naked or searched, then you should have them on your person. If that is impossible, they should be kept in a spot well away from the house. Someplace that only you could think of. Somewhere safe and secure where no wanderer, or monster would find them. It is no good hiding them in a cave if the cave is then inhabited by a swarm of Kikkimores.”

““I shall remember your advice.” I told him, doing my best to disguise how scared I was.

“But he knew. He stared at me for a long time before turning away, finding a chair and sitting in it.

““Would you believe me if I told you that I meant you no harm.” He asked.

““No.” I responded carefully.

““Good. I do not of course. In fact, I believe that I am here to thank you.”

““Oh?” It was not the wittiest thing I could have said. Indeed, I have spent some time since decrying the thing and thinking of other things that I could have said instead.

““You tried to warn Lady Moineau of the danger that she is in?” He asked. Of all the things that I was expecting him to come out with, it was not that. How to connect the presence of a Witcher, not even the famous local one, climbing into my bedroom window and walking around. I can’t remember what I said, I might even have said nothing.

““I see that you are.” He said. “And you are the Mistress of Alain de Moineau?”

““How do you know that?” I snapped.

““I knew he had one.” The Witcher responded. “A man like that always has at least one. The local people on his lands are not that pleased with the matter and they do their best to tell him of their dissatisfaction whenever they get the chance. One of the ways that they manage that is by telling me, a Witcher, which path he takes at night. From there it was a matter of tracking him through the woods.”

““He claims great skill at his wood craft.” I felt an absurd urge to defend him.

““I have no doubt he does, claim so at least. But there is only so much you can do to hide the passage of a war horse and a man in full armour. And he lacks the true paranoia of a man who knows that he is being hunted by something that could easily kill him.”

““Can you?”

““Can I what?”

““Easily kill him.”

“He seemed to consider that.

““I don’t know.” He said. “I would rather like to find out though. Sometime soon preferably, but he is in the city at the moment and that could mean one of several things.” He seemed to drift off into thought for a moment and I suddenly had the realisation that he hadn’t slept properly in a while. I was just about to prompt him, make a break for it or do something else that was probably foolhardy when he shifted and started to speak.

““As I say,” he began. “I came here to thank you. For warning Lady Moineau. I only hope that your warning didn’t come too late.”

“A realisation hit me. “You are Lady Moineau’s lover.” Rather foolishly, I had said aloud but in my defence, it was in the early morning, I was cold and painfully aware that I was naked under my night robe.

“He raised an eyebrow. “How do you figure that?”

““A mistress recognises a Paramour when she sees one.”

“He snorted at that. “Yes, I supposed that is what I am.”

““You love her too, just as I love Alain.”

“He had gone into one of his long trains of thought again and was startled by my statement. “No.” He said after a moment. “No, I don’t love her. My heart is given elsewhere to a person that I cannot love. Nor she me.”

““How very Toussaint of you.” I heard the anger in my own voice and regretted it almost straight away.

““Yes.” He admitted. “Unrequited love is a thing that you people seem to worship.” Then his eyes narrowed. “Just as you love Alain, but he does not love you back. He has no room in his heart for anyone or anything except his own reflection.”

“I burst into tears. It was true what he said. I knew it was true, it had always been true. I would just be a pretty thing to hang off his arm, even if we did marry. A pretty ornament and a route to power. But it is one of those truths that you do not want to hear. Even while I knew it to be true, I did not want to hear it.

““You deserved that.” He told me, he was right about that too. “I love the idea of her. I love the thought, the fantasy of the beautiful noble woman who falls in love with a Witcher. I might come to love her, given enough time. But she loves Alain as well. Too much to allow that kind of thing to continue. Which is the other reason I can’t just murder Alain in his bed. It would break her heart. No matter how tempting it is.”

“He was not joking as he said that and I felt myself becoming afraid.

““Still.” He said rising to his feet. “As I say, I am grateful and as a result, I would pay you back if I can. They will know, by now, that you warned her. The man in charge of their little group is not about to forgive that kind of thing and they will see to it that you are punished for it. Probably fatally.”

““They cannot dare kill me.” I told him. “They need me.”

““Oh. Why?”

“I told him about my heritage and what I had overheard.

““That is interesting. It does fit in with what others have told me or suggested. They are destabalising the rule of law and the rulership of the Duchess. And they will replace her with you. The last targets will be the Knight Commander and maybe the Duchess.” He seemed to be thinking aloud to himself. “Then there will be a need for an heir. Out you come as the heir apparent and everyone will fall in line. It is a clever scheme. It will probably even work. The noble daughter, hidden in a peasant’s hut. The romance of such a thing will appeal to the common man and woman of Toussaint.”

““Targets.” I finally growled. “What targets?”

“He stared at me in surprise. “You are aware of the Jack killings?”

““I am.”

““I do not know for certain.” He told me. “But my friends and I are pretty certain that your lover is part of a conspiracy using the spectre of Jack to hide a series of murders. Those murders are designed to undermine confidence in the Duchess’ rule and the protection of the Knights of Saint Francesca. There are others as well but we don’t know who they are.”

“I was staring at him in shock. I didn’t want to believe it. But it felt true. He was telling me these things in a flat, matter of fact way.

““These others will not hesitate to kill you.” He told me. “But before that, they will torture you in order to find out exactly how much you know as well as how you came to know it. They are ruthless, cunning and utterly without sympathy to your plight. I would be willing to believe that they already ordered Alain to seduce you and they view you, and your entire gender, as being little more than tools to be turned to their hands.

““I have spent most of this night doing my best to ensure Lady Moineau’s survival. If she makes it to the morning, then I can have her smuggled out of her lands and towards freedom. I hope that we can then use whatever she knows to be able to start to unearth the people that are behind all this. But for tonight, she is completely in their power. I have done all I can for her as those lands are heavily guarded and I cannot get near her.”

“He rubbed his eyes. “Believe me when I say that I have tried.”

““But in the meantime,” He went on. “If they catch her, if they question her, they will learn of your involvement. And there men are perfectly capable of adjusting their plans to include your death. They have shown the ability to adjust their thinking long before now. You should leave. Take your valuables and go. Tonight. Now. Immediately. They only kill one person a night, but they could just as easily take you in the morning and keep you somewhere so that they can kill you at their leisure tomorrow. And these poor women are dying hard.”

“He finally turned to go. “Lady Moineau did not heed your warning and it might very well have killed her. Do not make the same mistake that she did.”

“And then he was gone.

“To my lasting shame, I didn’t listen. I told myself over and over again that Alain loved me and that he would never hurt me. That I was essential to those plans and no-one would do anything to jeopardize them. I even slept for a short while.

“I did not sleep for long though. Nor did I sleep well. And it might be this last thing that saved me. I woke early, dressed and went into the main room of the house. I could hear the splashing of water and I assumed, like she always did, that this would be Elise the maid drawing up the water out of the well. I went to check though…”

I couldn’t help myself. I nodded in approval.

“... And what I saw was that it was some guard that I did not recognise hauling the water out of the well. Elise was standing nearby reporting to another guard. She was gesturing back at the house. She seemed calm, collected and withdrawn. A far cry from the almost timid maid that I had known previously. Looking past them, I could see that there were other men in the trees. They were spreading out and I panicked.

“I ran into the other room, slamming the door when I should have been quiet. I unearthed my valuables and ran for the window. The same window that your Witcher friend had climbed through earlier. I was out and into the tree line in a flash where I hid and watched what happened. Some guards came crashing through the trees to cut me off without realising that I was already beyond them. I could see a guard going through my things which made me stupidly angry. There they were, planning on killing me and the thing that I was angry about was the fact that they were going through my clothes?

“I waited until it was clear that they were going to mount a search for me and then I fled. What the Witcher had said about men in armour moving through the trees turned out to ring true. I could hear them coming long before they would find my trail and I had grown up playing in the trees surrounding my Father’s cottage. I soon lost sight of my pursuers. This was still in the early hours of the morning.

“I found a horse in a stable nearby and rode out quickly. Heading for my father’s cottage. He was still there and was suitably angry with everything that I had to tell him. But he pointed out that in my panic to get as far away as possible, I had run to the one place where I would almost certainly be looked for straight away. He advised me to flee. When I asked where I should go, he suggested the Witch on the grounds that I had obviously been betrayed by a man and she was known to help such women. I took some supplies and followed his instructions. The Witch took me in and kept me prisoner. You know the rest.

“So there is my story sirs. Once again, I find myself at the mercy of men that hold all the power. I would like, if at all possible, to strike out at my enemies. But beyond that, what would you do with me?”

I regarded her for a while. She honestly looked as though we were going to demand that she give in to amorous advances there and then.

“I would speak with Sir Guillaume a moment.”

“I will stay with the Countess.” Ariadne said “And we will speak as girls do.”

“But you’re not a girl.” The Countess protested again, a little more humourously.

“I am certainly the female of the species and that means…” Was the end of the argument that we heard as we walked away.

We walked towards the cottage and watched it smoulder for a while.

“What an awful story.” Guillaume said. “I mean I know that such things happen. I know that it is not uncommon for people, Ladies as well as Lords, to take a lover, house them in some out of the way cottage, and then use them. I even know that it happens to people younger than her. But to hear it like that. She sounds like an old, experienced woman. Not a girl of sixteen.”

“It doesn’t just happen here.” I told him. “There are stories from all over the North. Kerrass has hunted so many wraiths that I know of, that are the results of just this kind of life. Indeed, I wonder if Lord Geralt will have his work made for him in a decade or so, with the spirits of these dead women that were slain by “Jack” start to come back to life.”

Guillaume nodded. Another one of the cross beams of the cottage gave way and fell into the mass, sending a stream of sparks into the night sky.

“Well,” Guillaume said as he peered at the moon. “By my reckoning, we have a few hours before midnight which is when Jack likes to strike. If he hasn’t already. So what do we do now?”

“I have no idea.” I told him. “We believe that Alain is involved but we can’t prove it. Does her word equal his word in the courts of Toussaint?”

“It might, if she had a champion to fight for her corner. But Alain wins that challenge, every single time. Even if I was on my best day, and he was on his worst, then he would probably win an honour duel and that would be the end of the matter. If it’s just her word against his, he could swear down that he never met the girl except in passing and that she was lying. With no champion to step forward, or worse if a champion did step forward and was soundly beaten.”

He shrugged. “The Knight Commander claims that she is talking to the Duchess about removing the trial by combat from our legal system. I don’t think she will manage it though. It’s part of Toussaint as surely as her Knights are.”

“So we have a girl’s word. We know he did it but we can’t prove it.”

“So what do we do now?” Guillaume asked.

“I still didn’t have an answer.