The Spark of a Feudling (11 page)

****

Christian had never particularly enjoyed being a groom, but he was grateful for the distraction it gave him now. Long before the sun was up, he found himself in the barn. He cleaned the stalls and pitched fresh hay. He brushed, curried, and combed the horses every single day, exercised them, fed them, watered them, and sometimes he stayed hours into the night talking to them.

Still, the pain didn't lessen. He missed Ada so much every heartbeat hurt. The fact that she would come home betrothed to another man nearly killed him every time it passed through his head — which was often. She'd been gone a fortnight now. If what his mother told him was accurate, Ada would be meeting the queen any day. She would be officially introduced into Society, and then the offers of marriage would come. Even if Ada had only been a wealthy duke's daughter, she'd be hounded. The fact that she was unusually stunning
and
the daughter of a very wealthy duke probably meant there would be duels fought over her hand.

His only hope was the fact that nobility and aristocrats were, as a rule, afraid of the Edrens. If they knew Ada was a sorceress, and a powerful one at that, they might be too frightened of her to consider marriage.

“Christian. I've been looking for you.”

Richard's voice made Christian's skin crawl, like a thousand beetles had taken up residence in his blood. “I don't know how you've missed me. You hired me as a groom, and here I am caring for your horses day in and out.” The words were out of his mouth and he didn't regret them. The duke could send him away. He could have him flogged. None of it would hurt as much as losing Ada.

Richard made a
tsk
sound with his tongue. “Put the pitchfork down, boy, and listen to me. I have a proposition for you.”

Christian slowly turned toward him, leaning on the pitchfork instead of releasing it as he'd been asked.

“It is common knowledge among the manor staff, and myself, that you have an interest in my daughter. Normally, that would be laughable.”

Christian cringed but said nothing.

“However, I've seen the spells you, a Carules, are capable of. Even your mother isn't as powerful.”

And power is all that matters to you, isn't it?

“Yes, it is.” Richard met his eyes with cold amusement as Christian fought to contain his shock. He hadn't said that aloud. How had the duke heard him?

“There are spells that allow you to feed off the power of others, Christian. Spells that make you more powerful, and thus more desirable in this war-torn world we live in. I am the only one in the world who can create these spells, and I think they would benefit you greatly.” Richard leaned against the frame of the stall Christian was trapped in, but he was too stiff to appear casual. Too much nobility to lean.

“And why would you do this for me? What benefit is it to you?” Christian wanted to throw the pitchfork at him. He wanted to quit and storm away and take his mother and his sister with him. But Richard knew his weakness.

Ada.

“Because I can't test them on myself. These spells… they must be done on someone else. And you, my boy, simply are not strong enough to do them on me, not until I test them on you. They will make you stronger than us all. So strong, you can have anyone in the world, including my daughter, if you still want her.”

Christian clenched his teeth against the anger that nearly overwhelmed him. “You have no idea how much your daughter is worth.” He didn't realize the handle of the pitchfork was burning until the acrid smoke coated his tongue. He looked down, shocked to see the flames escaping from his hands.

“Have you always had such a temper, Christian?” Richard asked idly, raising one thin brow.

“No. I have not.”
Not until you tortured me in your study.

Richard pushed away from the stall. “Well, think on it, if you must. It is a rare opportunity — one Edrens from around the world would fight for.” He turned crisply on his heel and left, his shoes clacking against the rocks strewn through the barn.

Christian watched him go. Swearing, he spun and hurled the pitchfork across the barn, watching in satisfaction as it pierced the wood in the wall across from him.

****

He fought it. For several days he fought it, knowing how dangerous and absolutely daft it was to agree. But in the end, he gave in, as he knew he would — as Richard no doubt expected he would. “I'm here,” he announced, striding into Richard's study late one afternoon. Ada had been gone for over three weeks, and Christian was certain his heart was breaking into smaller pieces every single day.

Richard looked up, seemingly amused and annoyed all at once. “You know, most lowly grooms speak more respectfully to their employers. Especially when their employers are members of nobility.”

Christian only glared at him.

Richard shrugged, rising out of his chair and striding across the room to the bookshelves. “There's no reason to put it off then. Let's get started before your mother comes to make sure her baby isn't being mistreated.”

Christian felt the fury he was becoming accustomed to racing through his blood, igniting the flames. He stifled it, but still the sparks licked at his clenched fists. “Is what you say true, then? If I become as powerful as you say I will, you will give your blessing if Ada chooses me?” he said boldly. What had he to lose?

“Yes, yes, of course.” Richard waved his hand vaguely through the air. “
If
you become as powerful as I suspect you can. But it will take work. No more running off after one session.” Richard turned, book in hand, to glare at him sternly.

Fear warred with the anger in his heart, and he swallowed hard. “I will do what it takes.”

“Excellent. Let's get started.”

****

Christian awoke to see his mother leaning over him, tears staining her cheeks. “I've healed you as much as I can. Do you hurt terribly, my son?”

Christian forced himself to a sitting position. The flames seemed to be poison in his blood now, and their every movement hurt. “I heard your screams. I found you in the courtyard,” she said, her voice cracking as fresh tears cascaded down her cheeks. “We must leave this place. We must leave tonight. Are you able?”

“No, Mother. We cannot leave. Not yet.” Christian lay back down, wishing for ice in his veins instead of fire.

Scarlett cried harder. “What is this man doing to my children? And why are either of you allowing it?”

Christian reached blindly for her hand, wincing at the movement. “He will make us stronger, Mother. We will be strong enough that we will never be servants again. You will not have to work raising spoiled nobility while the lord and lady of the manor look down on us.”

Scarlett felt his head, her hands cool. “Christian, do you hear what you're saying? You love Ada. I love Ada, like my own daughter.”

Christian shoved her hand away. “I don't care!” he yelled, flames shooting from his fingertips. Scarlett watched him, unflinching.

“You are not my son. He has taken my son and replaced him with a demon.”

Christian felt his flames freeze, finally cooling his heat-exhausted skin. “I am your son. I'm sorry, Mother. I don't know what came over me.”

She reached out a shaking hand, brushing tears from his cheek that he hadn't realized he'd wept. “Please, Christian. We need to leave. We'll travel to London, take Charity with us. We can go to America, start a new life.”

I'll never see Ada again
. But he had a brief moment of coherency, realizing that this pain, this agony was not worth it, not if it turned him into a monster she wouldn't want anyway. “Yes, Mother. I'll help you gather our things.” He pushed himself to his feet, but the room swayed dangerously and he fell, crashing to the floor.

The interesting thing, they soon realized, about the duke's spell-induced injuries, is that Carules flames could not heal them. The physical wounds, yes. But whatever it was Richard did to their gift — Charity's sight and Christian's flames, no magic could touch. Scarlett worked tirelessly until Christian sent her to bed. He lay through the night, staring at the thatched roof above his head, terrified beyond belief. He wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse that he could not remember what Richard had done to him. By the way his entire body hurt, he knew it must have been painful, but beyond that, there was nothing. He now understood exactly what Charity had gone through.

The attack came before dawn. He awoke to screaming, high-pitched, skull-shattering screaming. And then the bell started tolling. He rolled to his feet, reaching for his shirt before he realized the overwhelming agony from the night before was gone. He didn't understand it, but he was grateful, shrugging his shirt over his head and pulling it down.

The shoulders ripped.

He swore under his breath, but Scarlett was already running for the door, and he went after her. His fingers lit, the flames reaching hungrily, waiting for the spells. He could just see the assassins through the darkness, appearing like wraiths and slowly taking solid form. If his flames hadn't been screaming for blood, he might have been afraid. There were at least ten of them, and from their hands he could see the Edren sparks. These were sorcerers coming for them.

But his flames
were
screaming for blood, and he lit up the darkness with his spell. Unbidden, the
ginsti
burned in front of him, but he twisted his wrist, just a bit, and shoved the spell forward. It hit the man leading the others, the man already reaching for Scarlett. Christian whirled out of the way as a spell flew at him, barely noticing the man he'd hit until he heard him wailing, and his cries didn't stop.

Everyone seemed to pause — Christian and Scarlett, the duke's guards who were assembling behind him, and the invaders themselves. They watched the man lie on the ground, writhing, clawing at his face, throat, and arms. His mouth foamed and his skin bubbled. “He's burning,” Scarlett gasped. “He's burning from inside.”

She turned wide, frightened eyes on Christian. “What did you
do?
”

Christian opened his mouth to respond, but what to say? He honestly had no idea how he had done it. “Mother, look out!” A spell hit her in the back, and she fell to the ground and lay still. “Mother!” The rage that had been boiling just below the surface for the last month and a half exploded and he ran at the invaders, spells erupting from his hands, one after another, cruel spells that left the men writhing on the ground instead of instantly killing them. He attacked them all, until there was nothing left but their screams in the air. He turned in a circle, looking for any new threats, but there were none. The duke's guards backed away slowly, the rising sun showing clearly the fear on their faces. Christian read their terror and for several seconds, he basked in it. Until his gaze fell on his mother lying still in the dirt, and the anger froze, the power died, and he collapsed next to her. “Mother.” He put his hands to her wound, praying he wasn't too late, and felt the comfort, the peace of his healing flames taking the place of the wild angry fire burning away at him. She had lost a lot of blood, but she still breathed, and he was able to heal her injuries.

Scarlett moaned and he pulled her head onto his lap. “Are they gone?”

Christian raised his eyes, looking around the courtyard. “Yes,” he said, because
everyone
was gone, even the guards. A lone figure strode toward them from the manor.

“That was quite impressive, Mr. Buttercroft.”

Christian felt the anger return, the aggressive spells fighting his healing ones. “You planned this, didn't you? You called those assassins.”

Richard's eyes lit with a cruel glow. “Now that would be madness, wouldn't it?” With detached interest he studied the dead, still burning men lying on his road. “I'll see you tomorrow, perhaps, for our next experiment?” Without another word, he turned on his heel and went back to the manor. Flames finally broke through the skin of some of the men, and enveloped their bodies in an inferno, leaving them as nothing but piles of ash.

“Christian, we have to leave this place,” Scarlett whispered.

Christian helped her to her feet, looping her arm over his shoulder. She had always been taller than him, but overnight he had grown so that her arm could not lie comfortably over his shoulder. He had to stoop to help her walk.

He did not respond.

She was silent even after they went into the cottage and he settled her in the armchair, wrapping a blanket across her lap. He made her tea and brought in warmed biscuits. “You won't leave, will you? Not now,” she finally said.

Christian sat across from her. “Did you see what I did? What I was capable of?”

She looked down, studying the tea that threatened to slosh over the sides of her cup as her hand shook. “Yes, Christian. I did. And that's what I'm afraid of.”

****

“Ada, honestly. You act like I'm sending you to the gallows, not to meet the queen. Every young woman gets this honor.” Vivian heaved one of her over-dramatic sighs — the kind that grated on Ada's very last nerve.

“Not every young woman. Only the ones Society thinks are acceptable.” Ada fingered the elaborate stitching of her white dress. It was beautiful. Beyond beautiful, actually. And Charity had done an amazing job taming her wild curls into a delicate twist. But this wasn't just a normal social outing, the kind Ada had been dragged to every spare chance over the last several weeks. This was Queen Anne, the monarch of all of England. What if the woman realized Ada's own father was a traitor to the crown? What if she realized Ada herself was an Edren warrior and not fit for polite society? What if Ada fell down in front of all those people or her curtsy fell flat? Ada swallowed hard. Facing a field full of angry sorcerers was much less terrifying than facing the queen.

“Just think, after your introduction to the queen, we'll go to a grand ball and all the callers that have visited this past fortnight will be begging for a spot on your dance card.” Vivian's eyes practically danced with excitement.

Ada felt like she might pass out. Or vomit. “Why don't we take this slowly? One day at a time. We'll meet the queen today,” she smoothed an imaginary wrinkle in the beautiful white dress, “and tomorrow… or next week, we can go to a grand ball.” She nodded enthusiastically, hoping her mother would agree.

“Don't be silly, Ada. The ball tonight is to celebrate meeting Queen Anne and your introduction to Society. Come now, the carriages are arriving.”

Ada turned wild, panicked eyes to Charity, who stood near the windows, watching proudly.

“You will do wonderfully, Ada,” her friend said, clearly missing Ada's silent plea for help.

Ada opened her mouth, but she could produce no words. Wonderful. Fear had rendered her mute. The queen would be very impressed by her lack of social skills.

“Ada, now, please.” Vivian picked up her skirts, deliberately sweeping them outward as she sauntered from the room and down the stairs.

“Charity, help me. I cannot do this,” Ada whispered fiercely — rushing across the room, secretly thrilled by the rustle of her silk skirts — and embraced Charity.

Charity giggled quietly, wrapping her thin arms around Ada's shaking shoulders. “You will do magnificently. The queen will love you — everyone will love you. They will not be able to look elsewhere.”

Ada pulled back, stifling a screech with a fist to her mouth. Charity raised an eyebrow, fighting a smile.

Lowering her fist, Ada whimpered. “That's what I'm afraid of.”

“Ada! Now!” Vivian bellowed.

Charity lost her battle fighting the smile, and a grin broke across her pale face. “One would almost think she's a lady, until she opens her mouth.”

With one last hug, she turned Ada gently and pushed her from the room. “I will be right here, eagerly awaiting your return so you can tell me everything.”

Ada paused in the threshold, turning and grabbing Charity's wrist. “Come with me. We'll introduce you as well. We can be sisters! No one will know.”

Charity chuckled, prying Ada's fingers one by one from her arm. “This is one experience I do not want to share with you, dear friend.”

Ada whimpered one last time before grabbing up her skirts and racing down the stairs. The staff stood silently as she hurried past them, but she felt their eyes on her. “Oh, Heaven help me.”

As with everything in London, meeting the queen was not at all like Ada had expected. In a large banquet room, an astounding number of girls in beautiful white gowns waiting anxiously, slowly forming into a line that led out the door and disappeared down the hall. Like sheep being herded. There were also throngs of others come to observe. “All these people will watch me?” Ada asked Vivian, speaking just loud enough that her mother could hear her over the din.

Vivian didn't look at Ada as she answered, her attention caught up with the people all around them. “No. When you get to the throne room, the doors will shut behind us. I will stay in the threshold and it will be only you and the queen. “ Suddenly Vivian's light brown eyes snapped to Ada's face with a stern glare, “And her Edren guards, of which you are to take no notice.”

Ada nodded, and Vivian went back to people-watching. Eventually her mother found herself bored of Ada's silent company and went to mingle, leaving Ada alone to stand for hours in a line that she wished would never move forward. It did, however, and every minute or so she would take another step closer to the door at the end of the hall. When there were only three girls in front of her, Ada looked for her mother, but Vivian was nowhere to be seen, and Ada faced the gigantic doors alone. And then they swung open and she was ushered in. She heard her name announced, “Ada Aleshire, daughter of Richard Aleshire, Duke of Adlington,” and she picked her skirts up with her forefinger and her thumb, just as she'd been taught. She held her head high and floated into the room, down the never-ending carpet to the throne. There was a small army of guards standing along the sides of the queen, and Ada wondered if they could feel her Edren blood like she could feel theirs.
I'm not a sorceress. I'm not a sorceress.
Just thinking it felt traitorous.

She nearly walked too close to the queen, catching herself at the last second when she saw the barest hint of a spark at the fingers of the Edren closest to her. She fell into a deep curtsy. “Your Majesty,” she murmured, averting her eyes.

“Welcome to London, my dear,” Queen Anne said, in falsely courteous tones.

Ada rose, nodding politely. The queen returned her nod and Ada, resisting the urge to grab up her skirts and run, turned slowly, allowing the long train of her dress to sweep around her, and walked from the room.

Vivian did not wait at the other side of the doors. But another familiar face greeted her. “Lady Charnock,” Ada said in surprise. Suddenly her knees felt weak and her vision blotched in front of her.

“My dear, you are remarkably pale. Sit down before you collapse.”

“I—I—” Ada stuttered.

“William!” Lady Charnock called. Ada could just see him slicing through the crowd. Taking her elbow, he led her to a chaise lounge in a quieter hallway.

“Thank you,” Ada whispered.

He sat down next to her. “You rush into battle and face down dozens of men, all bigger than you, without a thought, but meeting the queen makes you swoon?” Ada could hear the amusement in his voice and if it had been socially acceptable, she would have smacked him.

“Trust me. This is much, much more terrifying.”

Lady Charnock pressed a glass of something Ada worried might be champagne into her hand. But it was cool, and Ada desperately needed cool. She raised it to her lips, silently crying when she realized that, yes, it was indeed champagne. She tried to swallow without making a face.

“Thank you,” she choked. She had never liked champagne, and she didn't see that changing any time soon. She would never understand how people drank it willingly.

“Where is your chaperone?” William's mother asked.

Ada sighed. “That, Lady Charnock, is a very good question indeed. I believe my mother forgot who she was accompanying here.”

“I will find her for you.” William rose and Ada tipped her head back to watch him. When not compared to Christian, he was very handsome.

“How will you know it's her?” she asked, grateful that the splotches in her vision were fading.

“I will look for someone with the same beautifully unusual hair that you have.”

Ada felt her cheeks flush scarlet, and she fanned her face. “She has brown hair. No one knows where my black and red hair comes from. We look nothing alike.”

“Well then…” William looked around them as if Vivian would pop out of the nearest suit of armor. “I will look for someone blatantly ignoring her daughter on such an important day.”

Ada smiled. “If I may borrow your arm, I will help you look for her. With my eyes and your strength, we're sure to find her eventually.”

William gallantly lent her his arm. “Are you going to the celebration ball this evening?” he asked as they negotiated their way through the crowd.

Ada could feel his pulse leap under her fingers and she hid a smile. “I believe I'm being coerced into going, yes.”

As he was much taller than she, he was able to look over the heads of the crowd, whereas she couldn't even see around the man in front of her. “It's a shame we can't exchange heights,” she muttered.

He smiled down at her. “Perhaps if you describe her for me?”

Ada frowned, thinking. “She's got light brown hair, a touch darker than yours, and light brown eyes. She's about my height.” Ada's eyes lit up, “Oh! And she's wearing a bright blue gown with a large white bow.”

William's eyes scanned the room. “Will you save me a space on your dance card?” he asked suddenly.

Ada's jaw dropped. “Even knowing — knowing what I am?” she asked, leaning closer to him and whispering just loudly enough that only he could hear her.

His lips quirked in that ever-present smile of his. “Yes, even knowing what you are.”

She gaped at him, trying to form words that wouldn't come. Somewhere nearby, a shrill laugh, like the whinny of a horse, made them both jump. Ada cringed. “Ah. That would be my mother.”

William fought his way through the crowd to find Vivian with a group of women. “Ada! Why aren't you in line? We'll be late for the ball at this rate!” Vivian exclaimed. Ada had the sudden urge to attack her with her father's new favorite spell, but she refrained.

“Actually, Miss Aleshire has already met the queen and did so beautifully. You should be very proud,” William said.

For the first time, Vivian noticed the man whose arm Ada leaned on. “I don't believe we've had the pleasure.” She extended a slim, gloved hand while her eyes raked William like a steer for sale.

“William Langley, son of the Earl of Charnock, Your Grace.” William bent low before briefly kissing and then releasing her hand.

“Why, we're practically neighbors! What a shame we've never met before now.” Vivian clucked her tongue.

“Everyone is leaving to freshen up before the ball, Mother. I suggest we also go,” Ada said. The women behind Vivian all exchanged knowing glances.
She's been complaining about me again
, Ada thought tiredly. Her mother glanced around the room, which was indeed emptying rather quickly. Lady Charnock waited, watching them warily.
Don't worry about my mother,
Ada wanted to tell her,
she's not powerful enough to light a candle.

William followed Ada's gaze and nodded. Taking Ada's hand on his arm with gentle fingers, he raised it to his lips. “Do not forget to save me a spot on your dance card, Lady Aleshire.”

“I will not forget, Mr. Langley.” Warm shivers raced up her spine at the look in his eyes before he smiled and released her hand. Turning away, he went to retrieve his mother, and disappeared through the door.

“It seems you may have a suitor already, Miss Aleshire,” one of her mother's friends said.

Ada flushed and forced a smile, but could not think of a thing to say that would meet her mother's approval, so she remained silent.

The women seemed to not be in a hurry to leave at all, and Ada wandered the room, admiring the royal tapestries and artwork. She had strolled into a smaller, darker hallway when she caught sight of a light glow in her peripheral vision. Turning quickly, she nearly tripped over her train in surprise. “Charity! What are you doing here?” Charity's eyes were glowing. With a sinking heart, Ada realized she was in the middle of a vision, and Governess Buttercroft wasn't here to help her out of it. Ada hurried down the hall to the shadows where Charity waited impatiently, practically bouncing from one foot to the other. By now, the halls and sitting room were practically empty.

“There's to be an attack on the queen, Ada. Any minute now! You must stop it!”

Ada froze. “An attack? But there are so many guards—”

Charity shook her head vehemently, cutting Ada off. “The guards have been distracted by the threat of a larger battle outside. Her personal guards are not powerful enough for the assassins. By the time the rest respond, Ada, they will be too late and not enough. You must save the queen!”

Ada had one brief moment of doubt — could Charity's visions be trusted? Was she in her right mind? If Ada went racing into the throne room, it would ruin her socially, not to mention that the queen would probably think it an assassination attempt and have Ada beheaded.

But it was a chance Ada had to take. She hitched up her skirts and turned to run. “Not there, Ada! She's upstairs, in the royal library!”

As Ada raced away, she felt a sharp pain in her head, much like her skull was splitting. And then Charity's voice, “
There are three French Edren assassins. They move in the shadows
.”

Ada sprinted through the palace. Where
were
all the guards? All the Edren sorcerers she'd seen earlier? They couldn't have all left to fight, could they? The hallways she ran through were like a tomb. And then she felt it — the pull of the battle, calling to the flames in her blood. The battle must already have begun, although how that could have happened without alerting all those still lingering to meet the queen was beyond her. She'd never understand royal movements, nor did she possess the desire to.

She turned down two wrong hallways before coming to a giant stained glass window overlooking the expansive royal gardens — and the battle. Bright red flames lit up the darkening evening sky as royal guards fought off the invaders. But the queen would still have her personal guards, wouldn't she?