The Spark of a Feudling (18 page)

****

Ada awoke in darkness. She did not know how long she had been unconscious. She did remember fighting with the pain for an eternity, until her agonized body gave up and let her sink into oblivion. Only then did she rest. “Charity?” she whispered, the sound clawing at her throat.

“I am here, Ada.” She felt Charity lift her head, and something cold and wet brushed her lips. Water trickled into her mouth from a cloth, wetting her mouth.

“More. Please, more.”

“They've sent for my mother. She is expected to arrive tonight.” Charity's cold fingers brushed Ada's hair back from her forehead. Ada could hear the slosh of water, and then the rag was placed again to her lips. She swallowed eagerly, despite the pain it caused in her throat and stomach.

“Is she awake?” William's voice, exhausted and frightened, came from across the room. Ada wished she had the strength to open her eyes. To see him, to tell him she was okay.

“She wakes. But she is far from healed,” Charity said tiredly.

My mother,
Ada noticed with a sad tug at her heart,
is not here.

“
I am so sorry, Ada. Had I known what it would do to you…”

Charity cut him off, although gentle in her reply. “You could not have known. She could not have known. An Edren is not meant to heal. It is unnatural and does not react the way it is supposed to.” After a long hesitation where the only sound was her wringing the rag in the basin, she said, “One day, that will change. One day Edrens will do Carules spells and Carules will do Edren spells and there will be very little difference.”

“You have… seen this,” William said. There was no question in his voice and Ada wondered how many worry-wrought conversations these two had had. How long had she been unconscious?

She fought to stay awake, afraid of the darkness, afraid of sinking beyond where she could find her way out. Each minute seemed an eternity, and she had no idea how much time had passed when she heard the commotion of a visitor downstairs. Footsteps, several pairs, rushed up the stairs, but only one set came through the door.

“Ada. My darling Ada! When did this happen?” Scarlett's voice, unafraid, powerful, kind, caring. Ada would have sobbed if she'd had the strength.

“Five days ago, Mama,” Charity said, finding Ada's hand and holding tight. Ada mentally clung to her grip like it could lead her out of the dark.

She felt Scarlett's warm flames, first against her skin and then sinking in, joining her own. Together they battled the poison still running rampant through her body. But she was strong, and with Scarlett's help, she was strong enough. She felt the wounds healing and strength returning. Her eyes opened.

As she had suspected, it was dark, with only a single candle on the nightstand by her feet. Scarlett leaned over her, brow scrunched in concentration. William paced behind her. Charity sat on the other side, eyes closed like she could lend strength to them both.

“I am well, Scarlett,” she whispered, raising her free hand to grip Scarlett's wrists. “It is gone.”

“When I taught you that spell, Ada Aleshire—”

“I know. I am sorry. I forget that I am not all-powerful.” Ada felt a flush rise half-heartedly to her cheeks, and was grateful for the shadows.

Without warning, Scarlett leaned down and hugged her tightly, kissing her forehead. “It was a very brave thing you did. And very unselfish of you.” She leaned back, meeting Ada's eyes. “I am very proud of you.”

Ada felt tears rise unbidden and cascade down her cheeks.

“Mama.” Charity sighed. “Now she's lost more moisture in a few seconds than I've gotten down her in days.” She reached for the rag and the water basin.

Ada struggled to a sitting position. William came immediately, his hand firmly on her back for support. Then he stacked all the pillows behind her. “I can drink now, Charity. If you would not mind…” she looked hopefully at the cup sitting next to the basin.

Charity handed her the cup. William wrapped his big hand around her small one, raising it to her lips and she drank greedily, firmly believing the water sliding down her throat was heaven.

“My father is up and about, Ada. Thanks to you,” he said quietly. At once, Ada remembered his words as she'd slipped from consciousness.
You will be the death of my son. Do you hear, William? She will be the death of you.
Why had he said that? She looked up, met his eyes, read the worry there. It was worry for her, not for himself. Whether he believed the words had been from a crazy old man or he had simply forgotten them, she did not know. Nor did she want to bring it up.

She will be the death of you.

****

William's father's name was Bertram, but he insisted Ada call him Lord Charnock or the Earl of Charnock. He did not like her. He did not bother to disguise the fact, so she avoided him as much as possible, praying their stay would end soon. Not that she could blame the man — if she believed someone would be the death of her son, she would hate the person, too. Her mother, however, enjoyed herself far too much to hurry home. Ada nearly gave up all hope when Lord Charnock insisted on throwing them an engagement party. A party which was less to celebrate their engagement, Ada was sure, and more to celebrate his “return”. Thankfully, with Charity's help, the party was thrown together in days, and guests started arriving the night before. Apparently, between her mother and the earl, almost all of London had been invited.

Ada found herself hiding anywhere but the manor.

Which was how she found the monster.

She assumed it was some sort of a horse, although she couldn't get close enough to see. It was huge, that much was clear — bigger even than Alexios, or any other horse she'd ever seen. It stayed far away from the barn, usually in the shadows as far from the manor as possible. But Ada felt drawn to it in a way she'd never felt drawn to a creature before, from the moment she found its glittering eyes watching her from the darkness.

The day of the party, Ada went again to the barn, which was the closest point to the monster. She petted the other horses and wandered to the big doors leading to the pasture, squinting hard to find it. “Stay away from that one or you'll lose your life. Killed my best groom, she did,” Lord Charnock said gruffly, nearly scaring Ada to death.

She whirled on him, her hand to her chest. “I thought I was alone.”

Luckily, he hadn't come by himself. William leaned against the doorjamb, watching her with a smile, arms crossed against his broad chest. His hair was wet as if he'd just washed, and she could smell his spicy scent from across the barn. It made her heart pound. “You thought wrong,” he said with a snicker.

Turning to Lord Charnock almost against her will, she asked, “What do you mean she killed your best groom?”

He jerked his white head in the direction she had been looking. “Maiden. Man that sold her to me said she'd be the fastest horse in all the land. Instead she's worthless. Anyone that comes near her barely escapes with his life and the one man who did manage to get a halter on her she trampled to death. She's still covered in his blood. No one else can catch her. Lying scoundrel,” he muttered, turning away.

“The man who sold her to you, you mean?” Ada asked, searching the shadows with more curiosity than ever.

He snorted and stomped away.

“Well, he said she was fast. And you said no one could catch her. So he wasn't lying, it seems.” Ada couldn't fight the smile at her lips, even when Lord Charnock turned back on her, furious.

William chuckled, apparently amused at the way Ada could handle his father. “I've been sent to fetch you. Your mother said it is time to get ready for our party.”

Ada groaned, following him out. She'd much prefer riding into battle or facing her father in training than entertaining a room full of people here to see the latest scandal. And the thought of her father brought a fierce pang of homesickness. Running seemed to be her best option. She gnawed on her lip, twisting her fingers. William reached over, catching her hand, rubbing his thumb across her palm. “Two events, Ada. That is all I'm asking. Get through this party and our wedding and I will never ask you to face another soul as long as we live. We can live alone in the forest for the rest of our days if that will make you happy.”

She met his eyes, tears blurring her vision. “You are a very sweet betrothed, William.”

“Yes. I realize this.” He grinned at her and she chuckled, shaking her head and scrubbing tears with her free hand.

Charity dressed her in red silk that Vivian had picked out. It was far too conspicuous for Ada's taste, when all she wanted to do was blend in. She was not in London, holding the world at her fingertips any longer. She had been burned there and did not want to face the curious stares and suspicious eyes. No, she wanted to hide. But hiding was not allowed. Not today.

She descended the stairs, her mouth so dry she was positive trying to swallow would kill her. So many faces staring at her, judging, smirking behind their fans. Men still had the same leering greed in their eyes.
One more stair. One more stair.
It took all her will not to turn and escape back up the way she came.

And then she found William, waiting for her at the bottom. His eyes were kind, as always, and she latched onto them like a lifeline, holding his gaze until she made it to the bottom. He held out his arm and she took it gratefully, hoping his dinner jacket would hide her trembling fingers. “You are the most beautiful creature anyone here has ever seen, you realize,” he whispered, bending low so she could hear him.

She gave him a shaky smile. They made their rounds, smiling with artificial politeness, making artificial polite conversations, laughing with artificial polite laughs. She wanted to scream. There was no way she would make it through the entire evening.

The tapping of a fork against the china nearly sent her through the roof, and she whirled on the sound, sparks lighting at her fingertips. It was Lord Charnock, raising his glass. “I wish to propose a toast to the beautiful couple.” He raised his glass toward them and William sent her an amused glance, raising an eyebrow at the slightly scalded threads of his sleeve.

“Sorry.” She winced.

William only chuckled, leading the way through the crowd to stand next to his father. Vivian beamed at them both, fanning herself rapidly. Her cheeks were already pink from too much wine and she leaned to the side, just a bit.

Lord Charnock raised his glass. “When I returned home after all these years gone to find that my son had chosen a bride, I could not have been happier for him. I see great things in his future, and have high hopes for the things he will accomplish. To William and his bride!” He raised his glass and the rest of the room followed. If anyone else noticed the slight to Ada, they pretended not to, which was kind of them. As everyone erupted into cheers of their own, getting louder and more chaotic with each passing second, Ada escaped. She grabbed a glass of wine from Harriet's tray, noticing curiously that the girl had been crying.

William stopped next to her, frowning in concern. “Are you alright, Harriet?”

There were so many people. So many sounds, too many lights. Ada thought her head would explode. Taking advantage of William's distraction, she fled. She found herself in the parlor, in the corner, half-hidden by the curtains. This room was probably the least occupied of the entire downstairs, and even then there were still too many people. She focused on breathing in and out through her mouth and begging her flames to stay hidden. Outside, a storm raged, and she welcomed the sound of the rain pounding against the glass, the thunder shaking the window pane when the lightning split the sky. She clung to the sound like it could save her.

“I think perhaps you could use another of this, my dear.” Lady Charnock appeared next to her like a ghost, holding two wine glasses. She pressed one into Ada's hand, trading for the empty one still clutched like a lifeline in Ada's fist. She had to pry Ada's fingers from the stem.

“Lady Charnock, I'm so sorry I'm ruining your beautiful party. There are so many people… I was fine in London, but I—”

Lady Charnock patted her hand. “London was not your territory. This is and you feel that your haven has been invaded. I understand, dear. Here, William has escaped upstairs. I believe he could use another of these as well.” She pressed the other glass into Ada's hand. Ada's eyes followed the stairs. It was dark on the upper landing, with servants, politely, of course, discouraging guests from finding their way up there. Ada smiled. William's kindness, his warmth, beckoned her. “Thank you,” she whispered as she passed Lady Charnock.

The first door was locked, and there was no light coming from under the door. She moved on to the next, which opened, but was dark beyond. She frowned, moving on. She came next to two doors — one was the trophy room full of dead, stuffed animals. There was light there, of course, because Lord Charnock would hope someone would venture this way and see it, despite the guards standing at the stairs. She peeked in, but there was no one there and she backed out quickly. Turning to the door across the hall, she bit her lip. The door was shut and it was difficult to open holding a glass in each hand. She almost moved on, but caught just the smallest flicker of light. Backing up, she maneuvered the handle and pushed the door open.

A lone candle lit the room. A man and a woman stood locked in an embrace and it took several seconds before Ada realized who, exactly, the man and woman were. She gasped. The goblets slipped from her numb fingers and crashed to the floor, shattering into hundreds of shards at her feet. As if from a distance she felt the wine soaking her slippers.

William's head jerked up and he jumped away from Harriet, his
maid
of all people. “Ada! Ada, I can explain—”

Ada turned and ran.

She picked up her skirts and raced back down the hall. William called her name, but she didn't slow. She reached the stairs and hurtled down them, shoving people out of her way as she went. Tears threatened at the back of her eyelids, tears of humiliation and pain, but she refused to let them fall.

She rounded the landing, toward the huge window overlooking the pasture as lightning lit up the field. A movement beyond caught her eye. She gritted her teeth and lengthened her stride.

“Stop her! Ada, wait!” William called. He was at the top of the stairs now, but three more steps and she'd be out of his view. Bystanders gaped in shock, but no one moved fast enough to apprehend her.

She hit the main floor and sprinted for the wide front doors. She shoved them open and didn't take the time to shut them as she raced down the marble steps, her wet slippered feet skidding and sliding. Taking the stairs two at a time, she made it to the circular drive and ran across it, straight for the pasture.

Behind her, she could hear them still. William wasn't alone now — more men called her name, joining in the search. But she was an Edren sorceress. Faster than all of them combined, probably, even in her wet slippers and heavy skirts.

She skidded to a stop at the fence. Only then did she feel the rain soaking her hair, her dress, hiding her tears. Lightning split the sky and thunder crashed and somewhere from beyond the realm of rational thought, she mused that such a storm was fitting.

She flung herself over the fence.

Maiden stood motionless in the middle of the field, watching Ada come. All the other animals hid in the barn, terrified of the storm, but not this horse. In her silent stance, she mocked the storm and all its fury. Ada held out her hand, finally slowing to a walk as she neared close enough that the big horse could hear her. Murmuring sounds that had no meaning, she begged with her heart.

I need your help.

Behind her, light spilled from the front doors as men emerged with lanterns held high. “She must have come this way! Search the barn!” she heard Bertram yell.

She glanced over her shoulder. William stood in the circular drive, his eyes wild and desperate as he turned round and round looking for her. But no one would think to look in the pasture with the beast they were all afraid of.

Maiden tossed her head once, pawing at the ground and snorting. “I will not let them hurt you. I will protect you, I promise,” Ada whispered. Charity would laugh at that — she was forever teasing Ada about her need to protect everyone.

Maiden lowered her head.

Without another thought, Ada launched herself onto the giant horse's back. If not for her magic, it would have been impossible, and she sent a silent, grateful prayer heavenward that she had been born a sorceress. Winding her fists in Maiden's mane, she leaned low as the big horse leaped forward.

Her hooves beat upon the ground, rivaling the thunder that shook the sky. Ada knew the instant the men heard the ground cracking under Maiden's feet. As one, they all turned toward the pasture, staring in shock as the giant horse bore down on them. Most of them scrambled back, but William did not move, eyes wide.

The fence loomed before them, and if Ada had had time, she would have been frightened, but there was no time. She saw the fence, and then they were leaping over it easily, as if it were mere sticks laid across the ground. Her feet landed hard on the other side, within arms' reach of William, and then the big horse whirled on her back feet and raced down the dirt path.

Ada glanced over her shoulder. William sprang to action, yelling at someone to bring him a horse. But they would never catch her. His father had said Maiden was the fastest horse in the country, and they all knew that.

“Take me home, Maiden.”