Chapter 1448: Too Late for Cold Feet

"I know what she’s asking," Loghlan said, though his tone carried more frustration than disagreement. For a moment, he said nothing, quietly drumming his fingers on the well-worn table while he sifted through his thoughts to find the root of his discomfort.

Mairwen had taught him long ago that weak arguments were a sign that there was something so deeply entrenched in his being that he was unwilling to expose it to counterarguments for fear that it might crumble. Everything else he said, especially objections as feeble as having his honor imputed by acting like smugglers, was just a distraction from the real objection.

In this case, he realized, the real discomfort came from years of finding out too late that he’d been suckered into an ’agreement’ with barons who held back important details until the last possible minute... And for years, Bors Lothian had let his vassals get away with it, even in open court, because it served to check the Dunn’s growing power.

"It’s not a problem with taking one step further," Loghlan finally said. "It’s about agreeing to engage with Lady Ashlynn’s plans without knowing the full scope of what we’re..."

"Loghlan, my heart," Mairwen said gently, interrupting him by resting a hand gently on his arm. "I know Bors has betrayed your trust more than once, just like Lord Owain betrayed Lady Ashlynn’s," she said gently, even though she knew the betrayal that Ashlynn suffered was far worse than anything Bors had ever done to her husband.

"It’s hard," Mairwen continued gently. "But this is exactly the kind of trust we’ll need to extend if we intend to stand beside Lady Ashlynn as her vassals," Mairwen said, and the gentleness of her voice didn’t soften the steel beneath it.

"We’ve already committed treason by accepting her alliance," she reminded him. "It won’t take much for the Inquisition to declare us heretics just for hosting Sir Ollie and accepting his aid. Unless we’re prepared to sacrifice Sir Gavin and Lady Cerys to the Inquisition, we’ll never escape the consequences of standing back while he used witchcraft to heal them."

"We’ve already staked our family’s future on the word of our son and the people in this room," Mairwen concluded. "Opening the gate is a step on a road we’re already walking, not a leap into the dark. We can do this for her, if for no other reason than to demonstrate our willingness to support her cause. Stop being stubborn and let her send Marcel on his way. Then we can discuss the rest."

Loghlan looked at his wife, and for several heartbeats, he didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t wrong. She rarely was. The problem wasn’t that Lady Ashlynn was asking something unreasonable. The problem was that he couldn’t see around the river bend, and he feared there were rapids ahead.

But Mairwen was right. They were no longer standing safe along the riverbank. They’d already boarded the boat, and unless he was willing to throw his vassals overboard, there was no way to row back to shore. And that was a line that Loghlan refused to cross.

"Lady Ashlynn," Loghlan said with a heavy sigh, turning back to face the powerful witch who was sitting there calmly nibbling on her second pastry while he and Mairwen hashed things out.

"My retinue numbers over a hundred people," Loghlan said. "Five knights with their families and household staff, soldiers, servants, and enough carts and cargo to supply our stay through the ceremonies. I can absorb a dozen additional people without anyone raising an eyebrow, provided they’re dressed appropriately and know enough to keep their heads down."

"Beyond that," Loghlan added. "I know you’ve already secured Sir Cynwrig’s cooperation, but you’ll have the support of the rest of my retinue as well. So long as your requests are reasonable," he said, unwilling to offer up his support without a caveat. "I’m willing to place the whole of my retinue at your disposal."

"That’s more than enough," Ashlynn said, setting down the half-eaten pastry and flashing the baron a tired smile that was nonetheless filled with genuine gratitude. "So long as you’re offering them up, then I’ll make good use of your retinue, but only after I’ve explained what I need them for. Will that satisfy your concerns, Lord Loghlan?" Ashlynn asked.

"It’s more than I have a right to ask," Loghlan replied. "If you can do that much to ease this old man’s heart, then you have my word," Loghlan said. "Your companions will enter Lothian City under my seal. We’ll discuss the rest of it after Marcel is on his way."

"Thank you, Lord Loghlan," Ashlynn said, and the relief in her voice was subtle but real. She then turned to Marcel. "You heard the baron, we’ll be slipping into Lothian City by sunset tomorrow. Can you still make it to Lothian City in time to prepare the way before dawn?"

"The winter nights are more than long enough, my Lady," Marcel said, pushing himself off the wall he’d been leaning on like a shadow that suddenly grew substance. "I have Master Isabell’s letter for your sister," he added, touching a pocket in his tunic. "And Lady Heila’s gift for Owain’s knights as well. Jean should be able to manage the poison easily enough," he reassured her.

"Just make sure he targets the right dish," Ashlynn said, even though she knew it was unnecessary. Marcel knew his job, and she was certain that his nephew was every bit as subtle and skilled as the uncle who’d trained him.

"That poison represents Heila’s hard work and her hopes to prevent unnecessary slaughter," Ashlynn said, more to reassure herself that she’d said it than because Marcel needed to hear it. "I don’t expect that Owain will invite the Inquisition to his Stag Feast tomorrow night, or that he’ll have any templars in attendance. Not after Sir Tommin ’betrayed’ him," Ashlynn said confidently.

"There shouldn’t be anyone at the feast who could detect a witch’s potion," Ashlynn reminded the vampire. "Even if Owain is forced to invite Abbot Recared, he should be at the high table and..."

"Ashlynn," Marcell interrupted gently. "I remember. It will be done as you wish, or it won’t be done at all," he said, looking at her with dark eyes that had witnessed scenes like the one she was planning playing out dozens of times before.

"I’ve made promises to Jean and Hector about what will happen after the Lothians fall... I won’t risk losing them so close to the end," he reassured her, though he sounded almost like he was reassuring himself as well.

"We’ll be careful," he promised. "But now, I really must go."

"Then go," Ashlynn said, standing long enough to give the vampire a brief embrace. "And I’ll see you tomorrow night when we reach the Gilded Horns."

"The night and day will be long without you, my Lady," Marcel said, giving her an elaborate bow and flashing her a playful smile. "Until we meet again," he said before pulling back and melting into the shadows by the door, vanishing from the room without a sound.

For a moment, no one said anything as they all stared at the empty doorway. The hearth crackled and popped in the background, and the air felt both hotter and heavier than it had just moments ago. With Marcel’s departure, Ashlynn’s plans had taken one step further forward, and everyone in the room felt the weight of it.

Eventually, that weight became too much for one man to bear, and Loghlan finally broke the silence.

"Did I, did I hear that correctly?" Loghlan asked. "You intend to poison the knights at the Stag Feast?"