The Vampire & Her Witch

For a moment, the air between the two brothers grew incomparably thick and heavy as they stared at each other in silence.

Anyone chancing upon them, even if they didn’t know either of the men, would instantly recognize them as brothers. Both possessed the same chestnut hair, the same graceful and refined features with smooth jaws, well-shaped lips, and subtle brows. If a sculptor had shaped them both from clay, then he’d clearly used the same mold.

But from that same mold, countless differences emerged. Owain wore his hair much shorter to accommodate his helm when he donned armor, while Loman wore his long, tied back in a neat, scholarly tail with a silk ribbon that matched his tunic. Both men were tall, but Loman’s figure was slender and graceful, whereas Owain’s radiated the strength and power that flowed from his sculpted, muscular physique.

Most telling of all, however, were their eyes as they regarded each other from a few paces away. Owain’s brown eyes felt as hard as flint, and even here in the deepest part of Lothian Manor, they seemed to twitch every few seconds as he habitually watched his surroundings for hidden dangers. Loman’s eyes, however, even though they were nearly the same shade of brown, were open wider, calmly observing the man before him and giving his brother his full, undivided attention.

"I’m still a priest, Owain," Loman finally said with a heavy sigh. "I haven’t forsaken the cloth or my oaths. But Father," he said helplessly, gesturing at his exquisitely tailored tunic and cloak. "Father wants it to be clear that I’m helping him with the barons as his son, and not as a representative of the Church."

"Don’t lie to me, Brother," Owain said, pushing off the stone wall with his foot and striding across the hall until his face was only inches away from Loman’s. "You aren’t any good at it, so don’t waste your breath. I know father’s been talking about marrying you off, so you can stop pretending that this is just for appearances," he said, plucking at Loman’s tunic.

"Brother," Loman protested. "I don’t know what you..."

"Charlotte Otker," Owain said sharply, leaning in close enough to force his brother to take half a step back as he stared in the other man’s eyes. "I can’t believe Father thinks so little of you that he would force you to court that fat sow of a woman. Or is it because you’ve given everything you have to the Church your entire life that you need to marry a rich hog to suckle at her father’s teats in order to fund your belated thirst for power?"

"How did you..." Loman started to say, his eyes going wide before realization dawned a moment later. "Lady Jocelynn," the young priest guessed. "She heard about my lunch with Baron Otker and Lady Charlotte yesterday."

"Of course she heard," Owain said, turning away from his brother in disgust and returning to the opposite wall, leaning against it and regarding his brother as though he were an utter fool. "A lesson for you, Loman, since you’re ignorant in the ways of women."