The Spark of a Feudling (20 page)

****

Ada stared at William, willing her heart to feel nothing. Perhaps her love was more the love of a dear friend — she wasn't entirely sure, but she had been very fond of him. His betrayal still had a vise-like grip on her heart, and the way being near him made it pound… she thought the vise would kill her.

“Why don't you two walk the gardens? The fresh air will do you good,” Vivian chirped, flitting around them like a demented bird. Ada wanted to swipe at her, chase her away.

“No,” Ada said.

William flinched like she'd slapped him and the vise squeezed tighter. “Ada, please let me explain.” His voice sounded strangled as he choked on the words.

“There is nothing to explain. I saw all the explanation I needed.” She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to muster a glare. Why was it so hard for her to hate people? Her father, a traitor to the crown, experimenting on her friends, and she could not hate him. Christian, constantly trying to kill those she loved and what he'd taken from her — yet she could not hate him. And William, leading her to believe he loved her and then losing himself in the embrace of his maid. And she could not hate him. Clearly, she was defective.

“Please.”

She needed William. William was her only hope to save Charity.

Christian had made it very clear he no longer wanted her to save him.

“Fine.” Rising to her feet, she marched through the parlor doors, sweeping down the steps. She let her dress drag through the dirt with smug rebelliousness.

William hurried to catch up, falling into step beside her. “I know you must despise me right now—”

“Yes. I do.” Their hands brushed and she felt her blood swirl giddily. She jerked away, folding her arms across her chest.

“Please, Ada. Let me explain.” William stopped and turned to face her, brown eyes pleading. He looked like a kicked puppy.

She raised an eyebrow and waited.

“Harriet and I… we have been secretly… meeting.”

Ada frowned at this. This is not what she had wanted to hear. William rushed to continue. “We have been secretly meeting for years. But when I returned from London, I told her it had to end. I thought she was fine with it—”

“You had been together for years and you thought she'd be fine with it? Are you daft?” Ada asked incredulously. She remembered Christian telling her it was common for aristocratic men to have relationships, secret as they were, with their household staff. She just hadn't wanted to believe it.

William had the decency to blush. Ada sighed and turned away, running her hand over the rosebush, welcoming the pain when the thorns pricked her and drew blood.

“Yes, I thought she was fine. She said she had also found someone else.”

Ada rolled her eyes, throwing her hands in the air. “Of course she said she'd found someone else. The girl has her pride, you know.”

William frowned, confusion written plainly across his face. “Are you — are you defending her?”

“Yes, William. Mr. Langley,” Ada drawled, watching in satisfaction as he winced. “You led her along until something serious came—” Her words died in her throat, leaving a horrid, acid-like burn in their place. That was exactly what she'd done to Christian.

No it wasn't. I did love him. He lost his mind.

“Ada?” William peered at her in concern. Her hand came to her mouth and she shook her head, eyes wide. Words. She had no words. Nothing she could think to say that justified her behavior. “Shall I fetch a doctor? Or—or your healer?”

“My healer,” she croaked, then laughed maniacally, “would try to kill you.”
And hurt me beyond repair.
“I am well, William. It was wrong of you to kiss her at our engagement party. It hurt me, and I do not like to be hurt.”

He opened his mouth to object, explain, whatever he had an intention to do, but she stopped him, raising her hand like a ward. “I will marry you in six weeks, William Langley, but it will be in name only. This will not be a marriage of love.”

His face lost all color and he wrapped an arm around himself like he was in pain. “But Ada, I—”

She shook her head. “Don't, William.”

She saw his jaw tighten, his eyes narrow stubbornly. “Mark my words, Ada Aleshire. One day, you will love me. I won't stop until you do.”

****

Ada left William in the parlor, stuck between their mothers, neither of whom seemed to like each other. The earl, Ada had noticed, was conspicuously absent.

She climbed the three flights of stairs slowly, rehearsing in her mind the plan she'd been going over since the night before. Her father was most proud of her, which meant most likely to give in to her wishes, when she was spoiled and stubborn. Pausing outside his door, she straightened her spine and lifted her chin. Pushing open the heavy doors, she waltzed inside. “Daddy.”

He looked up in surprise, charcoal pencil poised above the spell book in his hand. He had hardly left his study in ages, except for the night Ada had returned from Charnock, and he looked awful. Like a man from the streets. His hair fell, too long, in tangled mats, sticking up here and there like chicken feathers. His face was gaunt and slightly yellow. And his clothes were stained and filthy, torn and burned in some places. She refused to acknowledge the smell in the room.

“Ada. I was not expecting you.”

“I wish to negotiate.” She crossed the room to his desk, willing sparks to come to her fingers. Thus far, they refused, hidden behind her absolute terror that he would refuse her.

He leaned back in his chair and smiled, and as she had hoped, there was pride in his eyes. “What do you have that I would barter for?” he asked, clearly amused.

“My marriage.” She crossed her arms over her chest, since the sparks weren't going to make an appearance.

His eyes crinkled, just a bit, as he fought to keep the indulgent smile from his face. She had sought his pride her entire life and now that she had it, she was using it against him. It was very malicious of her.

She didn't care.

“You want an alliance with Charnock to strengthen us against attacks from… outside forces.”
Like your own country.
“I refuse to marry Mr. Langley—”

Richard's face fell, and he frowned. She could see the confusion written in his eyes. She had him right where she wanted him. Her heart pounded in her chest and her mouth was so dry she thought she might strangle herself if she attempted to swallow. But her voice, when it came out, was confident. No hint of terror at all. “Unless you allow me to take Mr. Buttercroft and Ms. Buttercroft with me. And Governess Buttercroft, as well,” she threw in for good measure. It was normal for a woman to take her governess into her new home, wasn't it?

“But Ada.” He
did
sound strangled, and she wondered if his throat was as dry as hers. The thought gave her strength. “You realize I'm conducting important research with both of them…”

“Research?” She tipped her head to the side, fingering a red and black twisted curl, and now the sparks came, unbidden. She could feel the heat of them on her face. “I thought they were a test, to see how long it would take me to stand up for them. I have, in fact, passed that test, albeit slowly, as you pointed out, so there is no need for you to keep them.”

His face lost even the yellow sallow as he grew paler still. Her heart slowed, relishing the sudden power of tables turned. “But I was also doing research…” Straightening, he seemed to instantly regain his stride. “And wouldn't you rather have a maid adept at working with a lady and not a child? Christian and Charity are both in my employ, Ada. I would have to replace them, and good help is hard to find.”

“So are good alliances.” She felt her heart hammering in her chest again but the sparks, thank the heavens, stayed, furious in their intensity.

They stared at each other, a battle of wills, and one Ada never would have won had her father been in his right mind, and in his usual robust health. But he was not in his right mind. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, and whatever he was working on was much more important than whatever he wanted Charity and Christian for. “Fine. You may take them. But I suggest finding somewhere else for Mr. Buttercroft to go, or you'll end up with a house of fire and everyone in it, dead.”

She had won. Her heart soared and her knees nearly gave out from sheer relief. Never in her life had she won against her father. She felt like screaming from the turrets or dancing through the halls. She did neither. Instead she said, “Thank you, Father.” She gave him a polite curtsy and left in a swirl of skirts before he could change his mind.

****

Christian waited for Ada to appear in her window or to come to the gardens, or go for a horse ride on that beast she called Maiden, or to even show any sign that she actually still lived and breathed, but she did not. He waited two days, desperate to talk to her, and when Lord and Lady Charnock left and she still didn't come out, he took desperate measures.

The night was dark. Clouds covered the moon and the stars and there was very little light in the courtyard. He climbed easily up the trellis under her window, landing lightly on the small balcony. The window was shut but not latched, and he pushed it open, peering inside. There was no fire in the fireplace, so even less light in her chambers than outside. It took him several seconds before his eyes adjusted enough that he could just see her still form in her bed. Good, then she wouldn't blast him with a spell for setting foot in her room.

He threw his leg over the windowsill and slid easily inside. He crossed on silent feet, holding his breath so the sound of his breathing wouldn't wake her until he was close enough that she would see him and not shoot flames or throw a
lirik
at him by mistake. He paused next to the bed, and loosed sparks from his fingers to act as a torch. Her dark lashes lay softly against her cheeks. Red and black curls tumbled across her pillow, and her lips parted just a bit as she breathed in and out. He could not bring himself to wake her. Instead he watched her, memorizing every detail, begging her mentally to never leave him. To be his, forever. Always.

Her eyes flew open.

Instantly, he was met with a half-burned
lirik
hanging in the air in front of him. “Get out of my room.”

“Ada, it's me! It's Christian!”

She growled. “I know who you are, you dolt. Get out.”

He jerked his chin in, surprised. He'd been sure once she knew it was him she would be glad to see him. This was not the reaction he'd expected at all.

She threw the covers back and advanced on him, backing him across the room to the window. “Are you absolutely daft coming into my room at night without my permission?” She narrowed her eyes, “Which Christian are you?”

He stumbled backward, bumping into a chair before he nearly fell over. “I—I am me. I wanted to talk to you. You never came outside.”

His clumsiness seemed to erase the fear for some reason, and her shoulders relaxed. “Then throw rocks at my window like a normal man, Christian!”

He frowned. “That would break the glass. We'd both be in trouble.”

Unexpectedly, she laughed, and the flames died at her hands. She swished through the spell, and it dissolved into tiny sparks that fell harmlessly to the floor. Funny that such a dangerous thing could be made up of something so small.

“What do you want, Christian?” she dug into her armoire and pulled out, not a robe, but that horribly ugly cloak she seemed to love so much. She slid it around her shoulders and settled herself in an armchair next to the fire, lighting the candle on the table next to her.

He hesitated, watching her suspiciously. Had she lost her mind as well? Had everyone in this blasted manor lost their minds? How had she been one second about to kill him and the next laughing at him and wearing a cloak instead of a robe?

“I—what happened?” He frowned, his words all tangled up. He tried again. “How did you get William to leave?”

He saw the shadows cross her face; pain, firstly, and regret, sadness. “Christian, sit down.”

Christian hesitated, the angry flames fighting for control, and he did not want to know what she would tell him. But he sat, because she had asked him to.

She leaned forward and took his hand. “Please believe me when I tell you that I did what I did to protect you and Charity both.”

He froze, his heart like ice in his chest. “What did you do?”

“I am marrying William,” she said gently, her hands shaking in his even though her voice was calm. “I am taking you and Charity away from here. Away from my father's tests and temptations. And your mother, too.”

Christian fought the rage, but he was losing. He could feel it. “You want to take me with you to watch you begin a life with another man? Are you truly that cruel, Ada?”

Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill across her cheeks. “I didn't know what else to do, Christian! You will not fight my father. Charity can
not
fight my father. I did the one thing I could do to protect you both.”

He jerked his hands out of hers. From somewhere inside himself, he realized he was no longer in control, but it hurt less where he was hidden, behind the fury. “How generous of you, Miss Aleshire,” he said snidely. “But I think we will pass on your generosity.”

She jumped to her feet, shoving her curls away from her face. “My father will not stop, Christian! This is the only way—”

“It is not the only way, Ada. You could stand up to him!”

She jerked back like he'd hit her. “I did stand up to him! He manipulated me into believing it was all my fault. And then he summoned her again!”

“And yet you defend him. You love him, you adore him. You protect him. You are as guilty as he is!” Christian yelled.

Ada's face paled in the flickering candlelight. “He's my father.”

“Yes. And he's tortured you. He's tortured my sister. He's tortured me—”

“You chose that, Christian! You want the power he gives you!”

Christian crossed the room until he stood very close to her. She narrowed her eyes, but her entire body trembling gave her away. “I wanted the power so that I could be with you.”

They stood, inches apart, and from where Christian stayed, trapped behind his own rage, he would have given anything to kiss her. But the rage didn't want to kiss her. It wanted to kill her.

She read that hatred is in his eyes, “Yes, you did it for me. And then you used it to try to kill me.”

He didn't want the blame to lie with him. He was not the one to blame in this. “And you want to punish me by making me watch you live with a man who is not me? Share his home — his bed?”

“I was trying to protect you! I didn't know what else to do!” She threw her hands in the air and shoved him aside, pacing the room.

“I'll tell you what you do, Ada. You kill him. You burn the manor down and everyone in it, and we leave this place. Never look back.” Shock nearly brought him to his knees as he realized that those were
his
words, as well as the rage within him talking.

She had her back to him, but by the way she had frozen, he knew she'd heard him. She didn't say a word for several long seconds. Slowly, so slowly, she turned on him, walking toward him like a wraith through the darkness. She stopped when her toes touched his boots.

And she slapped him.
Hard.

“Get out.”

Christian grabbed her hand, jerking her close to him. He stared into her eyes, wanting to see fear. Pain.

Instead he saw fury. Her fury confused him enough that it let him take control over the rage. “Ada. I'm so sorry—” Realizing what he'd said, and the fact that it had not all come from the insane part of him, extinguished whatever heat he had left. Horrified, he spun away from her, sprinting across the room to the window. He leaped out, crashing to the ground below. Something snapped, a bone in his shoulder maybe? But he barely felt it as he raced across the courtyard to his home.