The Vampire & Her Witch

Under Owain’s mocking stare, Loman took a deep breath, stiffening his spine and drawing himself up to his full height as he cloaked himself in the stately demeanor of a priest who bowed only to the Holy Lord of Light. His brother might be fierce and forceful, Loman reminded himself, but next to the righteous power of faith, even swords and armor bent and shattered.

"Father is resting until dinner, so if you need him, you should return later," Loman said, giving a pointed look at the heavy wooden door as if to suggest that causing trouble here would only anger their father. "Since I’ve already helped him to lie down, I would appreciate it if you didn’t spoil my efforts," he said, speaking both as a dutiful son and as a priestly healer.

There were very few people in this world who could still intimidate Owain now that he had become a knight, especially after he spent so many years fighting skirmishes with demons, but their father was still one of the people who even Owain needed to lower himself and walk small in front of.

"Father’s resting?" Owain said, raising a brow in surprise that appeared genuine. "The sun has barely set. Dinner won’t be for another two bells. How bad is his health that he needs to rest now?" Owain asked, sounding so genuinely concerned that he almost believed himself.

"Don’t lie to me, Brother," he added as he scowled at Loman, raising a finger and pointing at his brother as if the tip of his finger were the point of a sword. "He’s my father as well as yours. If his body is failing him, I have a right to know."

For a moment, Loman hesitated. He hated that Owain was pressing him so fiercely on things, but he’d already been caught out trying to tell a half-truth once. If he did again, things might get even uglier, and they were right outside their father’s door. If Bors had to come to Loman’s rescue because he couldn’t handle his own brother, what kind of message would that send about how he could lead the march?

"Father is still as strong as a bull," Loman said with a heavy sigh. "But his old wounds are bothering him, and the cough that he’s suffering is more than a wet autumn cough," he admitted. "It may be nothing, or it may be serious. It’s too soon to tell, and he won’t let me examine him further to understand the sickness, nor will he let me pray over him."

"That sounds like Father," Owain agreed, painting a worried look on his face. "He’ll be stubborn to the very end. Is there anything you can do?" Owain asked as he focused sharply on his brother’s responses.

Had things progressed far enough that his brother would be ready to summon other healers? Or did he still have confidence in his skills to manage their father’s health? Loman’s answer would tell Owain a great deal about how rapidly things were moving now that his investment in the Black Merchant’s services was finally bearing fruit.