"Well done, Ollie," Ashlynn said as she moved at last, striding quickly across the polished stone floor to reach Ollieâs side. "And you as well, Morwen," Ashlynn said with a slight nod of acknowledgement and a brief smile.
"Itâs time," Ashlynn added, glancing toward the doors. "Before we go, how sure of yourself do you feel, Ollie? Can you still be Joceyâs guardian, or is the rage too much for that?"
"I, I donât know," Ollie admitted. He wanted to say that he was confident and in control of himself, but the truth was that he didnât know. He felt like a kettle with the lid on. Everything could be fine for several minutes, and then the flames within his chest would grow hotter, and everything would boil over....
So, as much as he wanted to say that he was fine, he couldnât. Not without lying, and a knight should never lie to their liege lady.
"I have it, for now," Ollie said. "But If Lord Owain provokes me, I may not be able to stay my hand."
"Then let me help," Ashlynn said, reaching out to place a hand on his chest. She could feel the cypress seed sheâd planted there, pulsing with the strength and power that it had gained from the Blood Acorn, but beneath it, the power of the Cypress Witch had recovered almost completely in the time since theyâd left the village of Maeril.
What remained was the lingering fury that drove the oath Ollie had sworn to claim vengeance against the Lothians on behalf of Virve and the Ancient Oak. But that oath was about to be fulfilled, and Ashlynn judged that heâd done enough to repay his debt to the Ancient Oak.
"Morwen, hold tight to Ollieâs hand," Ashlynn said gently as her hand began to glow with a faint emerald light. "This will be uncomfortable for a moment, and youâll lose the focused power born of rage, but youâll have more than enough to keep Jocey safe, even if the Inquisition tries to turn on her...."
"Thatâs all I need," Ollie said, closing his eyes and surrendering himself to Ashlynnâs witchcraft.
There was no need for words between members of her coven, and Ashlynnâs power sank into Ollieâs chest like a taproot in fertile soil. His heart felt worn and torn after the ordeal heâd just been through, and some wounds would leave scars behind, but these things were no different than the burns on the backs of his hands...
Subtle marks of painful moments, but they didnât define him any more than an ember from a cookfire could burn away the kindness at the core of his being.
Ollie was still Ollie, and despite everything that had happened tonight, that hadnât changed.
"Brace yourself," Ashlynn said softly before she began to siphon away what was left of the Blood Acornâs influence.
Her power washed over him like a gentle wave, picking up the remnants of the Ancient Oakâs fury and carrying it away the way waves cleansed a beach of debris from a storm. Some of that rage had belonged to Ashlynn in the first place, and pulling it back was no harder than reeling in a fishing line.
Unfortunately, time was short, and she couldnât afford to be gentle. She pulled with considerable strength, and Ollieâs hand tightened on Morwenâs as he felt both the power and the fury of the Blood Acorn draining away.
One heartbeat passed, then two, then a third. By the time four heartbeats had passed, the moment was over, and Ashlynn was pulling back both her hand and the power sheâd used to free Ollie from the grip of the blood acorn.
When she looked into his eyes, they were clearer than theyâd been, and Ollie was no longer surrounded by the oppressive aura of barely restrained violence. There were still shadows lurking in his eyes, along with fresh wounds to his heart that had yet to heal, but Ashlynn believed that both would fade given time and a bit of care from good friends like Milo and Harrod... and perhaps young Morwen as well.
"Thank you," Ollie said. His voice was rough with emotion, but for the first time since the night began, he felt like he was fully in control of himself. Weaker than heâd been... but he was no longer overwhelmed by the presence of the Ancient Oak.
At his hip, he could once again feel Frost Fang and its powers of ice, ready and at his disposal, which was good, because he had no desire to wield the darksteel cleaver again tonight if he could avoid it.
"You never need to thank me, Ollie," Ashlynn said gently. "Not when youâve done so much already."
"One more thing to do," Ollie said lightly, as though what came next would be easy. "Thank you, Lady Morwen," Ollie added as he turned to the young woman who had been holding his hand. "Having you here, it helped," he said, though he didnât explain any further.
"Of course, Sir Ollie," Morwen said, letting go of his hand and stepping back from his side. For a moment, when heâd used her name without a title, sheâd felt like they were growing closer. Hearing him call her âLady Morwenâ again meant the walls were going back up, and for a moment, that stung. But then she realized that the distance between them had still shrunken considerably, and if there were walls... those walls werenât as high as they had been.
Time, she thought, remembering the advice Lady Ashlynn had given her before. Time to be friends... and friends helped each other. For now, it was reason enough. Anything else wasnât important, and if she told herself that enough times, she might eventually start to believe it.
"Liam," Ashlynn called, turning to look behind her. "Are you ready to serve as my Herald?"
"I am," the Dunn lord said as he stepped forward. "Whenever youâre ready, my Lady."
"Good," Ashlynn said before turning back to Ollie and gesturing toward the heavy oak doors that led into the Great Hall. "If youâd do the honors? Weâve put this off long enough...."