by Wendy Knight
They hurried to his mother, who met them at the door. “I felt it. I knew something was wrong.” She took Charity and immediately started burning spells into the air above her daughter, pushing them at her one after the other.
Christian stood back, watching. He felt Ada’s small fingers twine with his and he looked down, trying to force a smile.
“We have to keep my father away from her, Christian.”
“We aren’t sure it is your father, Ada,” he argued, his voice low, but he could see in her face that she believed him less than he believed himself.
“I promised to protect her.” There was a grimness in her eyes that made her look a hundred years old. “I know only one way to do that. And I need you not to try to stop me.” Her dark brown eyes searched his, pleading.
“I can’t stand by while he tortures you, Ada.” Christian’s voice was harder than he’d intended, and she flinched.
“I’m not asking you to stand by. While I distract him, you have to search for answers. Can you do that for me, Christian? For Charity?”
He raised a hand, brushed his knuckles across her cheek bones. “Ada, he’ll hurt you. I can’t let that happen.”
“But he will make me stronger. Strong enough that I can defeat him. And I will learn all his spells, and I’ll be able to teach you. No one will ever be able to hurt us again. We can escape — with Charity. We’ll take her far away from here.”
Christian’s heart stopped. She was talking about running away with him. Running away from her privileged life and all her wealth. For him. For Charity.
She turned her face into his hand, kissed his palm. “And you will be there to heal me. I can do this, Christian. I’m strong enough.”
It felt like he was ripping the words from his very soul, agreeing to her plan. But he nodded.
“Always, Ada. Forever.”
****
“Where have you been?” Her mother’s voice nearly split Ada’s skull, joining forces with the headache she’d already been fighting and attacked with a vengeance. She paused in the foyer, squinting into the darkness. Her mother stood motionless near the sweeping front staircase, her skirts spread perfectly like she’d arranged herself there.
But she stood in the shadows. The candles weren’t lit. The entire house stood in inky blackness. Ada hesitated, her hand clutching at the door like she could still escape. “I’ve been with Charity. She’s having an episode of some sort.”
“You were with that boy. The worthless stable boy.”
Ada could count on one hand the times in her life her mother had raised her voice. It wasn’t ladylike to yell, and her mother was the epitome of a lady. But now she was practically snarling, and her voice echoed through the tomblike corridors. Where were all the staff? The guards? Her father?
Ada fought hard to keep the sparks from leaping from her fingers. In the darkness, her mother would see them clearly. “He isn’t worthless, mother. He’s my friend.”
I love him.
“I’ve been far too lenient with you. Letting you run free like you’re a peasant. Letting you associate with such dirt. But it’s over. No more, Ada. I’m sending you to London. Tomorrow.”
Now the sparks did explode. The flames roared through Ada’s blood, angry. Hungry. “You will do no such thing,” she yelled, letting the flames leap and dance from her hands.
She had only seen her mother do spells when they were attacked. Vivian thought it unbecoming of a lady, and she was appalled that Ada was so powerful. But now, the dull red flames burned into the air and the spell shot through the darkness, seeking Ada.
But Vivian was slow and not very powerful at all — whether from disuse, or perhaps she never had been. Ada danced easily out of the way, her skirts swirling around her. The spell — a ginsti that her father had taught her the day before, hung in front of her before she even realized she was burning it, and she shoved it angrily. It slammed into Vivian before Ada could even think about regretting it, knocking her mother backward onto the steps.
Vivian screamed, and the house burst into activity. Guards came running. The candles in the giant chandelier overhanging the stairs flickered to life as Richard appeared on the third floor landing. He stared down at them, distaste curling his lip.
Ada didn’t care. She advanced on her mother, seething. “Do not ever threaten me again. Remember who it is you’re attacking next time you throw a spell at your own daughter!” she screamed. Without a backward glance she grabbed up her skirts and sprinted up the stairs.
She threw herself into her room, closing the door behind her and collapsing against it. What had she just done? And why, oh why, did she not feel any remorse? Only this hatred, this burning anger. The flames in her blood refused to be calmed. She rushed to her armoire, digging out the cloak. She threw it over her shoulders and shoved her window open. This time there was no careful climbing and dropping. She leaped from the window, landing hard on her feet. She felt pain shoot through her legs and she fed off it, welcoming it.
But it did nothing to quench the anger. So she ran. To protect those in the manor, she must leave. She sprinted through the darkness to the stables, to her father’s fastest horse. She grabbed a bridle as she ran past the hook on the wall. Leaping onto his back without even a saddle, she yelled. “Yah!” The big, black horse reared, nearly throwing her, but she clutched his mane in her hands. They burst from the stables and raced down the lane and she risked a glance over her shoulder as they galloped past the wide front steps.
Richard stood motionless, watching her go.
Chapter Four
Ada had no idea where she was going, but the fire in her blood seemed to be leading her somewhere specific, and she was fairly positive there was a battle wherever that somewhere specific might be. So she pushed the horse hard, giving him his head and ducking low on his back as they tore down the lane.
Coincidentally, or not, in the opposite direction of London.
They left the village behind. In the deepest, darkest hours of the night, they left all semblances of civilization and raced into the thick forest. It was dangerous here, and not because of the war. Highwaymen preyed on lone travelers, Ada had heard. Villagers were constantly asking her father for help in protecting them. As far as she knew, he’d never done it.
But the flames. The flames were calling for the battle that she could only assume was somewhere down the darkened road, perhaps the next village over, perhaps farther, but she wasn’t going to stop until she found it. Her horse, despite having no magical abilities, seemed just as anxious as she was to be free, and he ran like the hounds of Hades were on his heels.
If there were highwaymen, they wouldn’t be able to catch us anyway.
The second the thought entered her mind, she cursed. Fate possessed a cruel sense of humor — whether or not there had been highwaymen ready to attack before, there certainly were now. When she saw the shapes blocking the road ahead, she wasn’t surprised. Or afraid.
Annoyed. But not afraid.
She slowed her horse, since the men were blocking the entire road. Her options were either to crash right into them, or try to go around and crash right into a tree. Neither looked feasible. “Well, look’it this. What a fine specimen of horseflesh.” The cockney accent was so thick, Ada had to strain to understand it.
“Far too fine for the likes of you. Move out of the way,” she snarled.
They erupted in boisterous laughter. Four of them, if there were none hiding in the trees. “And a little girl atop such a big horsey. Come down and play with us, little girl.”
She grit her teeth. Why must she be so small? “Believe me when I tell you that you should really move out of my way before you get hurt.”
More laughter. “What’sa tiny thing like you gonna do to big, brave men like us?” another asked. She couldn’t see their faces clearly in the dark, so she couldn’t be sure which one was speaking. Light would help. With a wicked smile, she sat back on her horse, letting the reins dangle.
“Sorcerer!” Now that she could see their faces, she noticed that most of them were missing teeth. One man had only one eye.
She tipped her head sideways, watching them with amused curiosity as they scrambled backward. “I did warn you,” she murmured.
“Please, we mean no harm!”
“Liars.” She moved her hand so quickly it left trails through the blackness. The lirik burst from her hand, shooting toward the man closest to her. Three more followed as he screamed.
Her horse stepped lightly over their writhing bodies, chuffing like he’d enjoyed her attack.
“I am not a little girl,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at them. Their bodies glowed like dying embers in the darkness.
Four more times she left bodies lying in the road, and it did nothing to quiet the hatred in her blood. If anything, it made her more hungry for battle, and as the sun rose she finally left the long stretch of forest and came to the outcroppings of the next town. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten — midday meal the day before, probably. And she had stupidly escaped without any money. “Brilliant, Ada. Absolutely brilliant.” On her father’s lands, the villagers had farms. Farms had food. Food that she could steal. But she didn’t see any farms here. However, if she didn’t eat, she would pass out during battle, and she could feel that the fight was close. So her first priority must be to find food.
The village was still quiet. No one seemed to be awake yet. There was a tavern or an inn of some sort, and the makings of a huge building of some sort in the distance. But no people.
Her father was fascinated by expansion. He had plans to have many grand buildings on his land, but so far he had only been watching and waiting. It would not please him to know their closest neighbors had already started construction.
Beyond that, the village was smaller than her father’s. She loosened her grip on the big black horse’s mane and let him canter down the middle of the road while she studied the buildings — comparing, judging, and wondering if any of them had food. She’d never been this far from home. Unlike many of the other noble families, hers had never traveled. Her father was always too busy. Her mother went to London every season, but she’d never taken Ada with her.
Ada nibbled her bottom lip. Berries? Didn’t people eat berries? She squinted, seeing the dark opening of the thick trees at the other end of the street. This town seemed to have etched itself right out of the forest, but the forest still fought to take its land back. “Let’s go, Horse.” She kicked lightly and he picked up the pace. I should really find out what this horse’s name is. Until then, it shall be Horse.
The sun shone weakly through the trees as they left the village behind. Ada dismounted and fitted the bridle over Horse’s head before she wandered off the path, holding tight to the reins. He followed obediently, stopping to eat the thick grass when Ada paused. “If I were a berry, where would I—” She screeched and leaped back toward Horse as the bushes next to her rustled. Highwaymen she could handle, but what she could not see was much more frightening.
Horse nudged her with his nose, as if reminding her that she was supposed to be a mighty warrior. Hands shaking, she willed the flames to come, feeling just a bit stronger when the sparks lit. She burned the spell into the air and waited for the monster to emerge.
“It is against the law for peasants to hunt on this land,” a voice said from behind her. She screamed again and spun toward the new threat, trying desperately to keep the first threat in sight. Or at least, where the first threat would be if it ever emerged from its hiding spot.
The man who had spoken was obviously aristocracy. The way he dressed was far too fine to be a peasant or even a knight, although he held a bow in his hand. With the other, he held the reins of a beautiful white horse with a black nose and black forelocks. The mane and tail were also black.
She tore her gaze from the horse to check the bushes. Still the threat hadn’t emerged so she glared back at the man. He was much taller than she, probably even taller than Christian. Light brown eyes studied her, slight eyebrow arched in amusement. He was handsome, but not in the way that Christian was beautiful.
“I am not a peasant,” she finally snapped.
His lip quirked. “I can see that.”
“Then why—” Behind her, the monster emerged and she squealed, whirling toward it and shoving the spell. It flew toward the bunny, blasting it into nothing but burnt tufts of fur. “Oh no!” She rushed to where it had been without thinking, but it was too late. She’d killed the innocent bunny.
Behind her, the man laughed.
She glared over her shoulder at him and the laugh died in his throat. “You’re a sorcerer,” he said as he fought to keep the grin from his lips. Fought badly, because Ada could still see it playing around the corners of his mouth.
“Yes.” She rose, brushing off her skirts. She felt awful. She could kill men when they attacked her. But the bunny had done nothing. It hadn’t deserved to die.
“And… why are you obliterating innocent rabbits in my forest? We could have roasted it for dinner, had you not done… that.” He motioned vaguely at the still burning tufts of fur.
Ada frowned. “I was hungry. I thought to find berries.”
The smile died. “Why are you not eating with your family? Where is your family?”
“They are home. In Adlington. I am on my way to battle.” She raised her chin, praying he wouldn’t ask her why she hadn’t brought food on her way to battle.
His eyebrows shot up and he studied her more closely. “You’re the duke’s daughter.”
“Yes. And that’s his horse. And I need to eat before I can be a proper warrior, so if you don’t mind, kindly go about your business.”
He grinned. “My home is not far from here. You may eat with me, if you so desire.”
She did not so desire, but she was starving. And there were no berries in sight. Never mind the fact that she had once heard that eating the wrong berries would kill a person. “I would be immeasurably grateful,” she murmured.
“My name is William Langley. My father is the Earl of Charnock.” He bowed with a smile then offered her his hand. “And you are?”
She ignored his hand and swung herself up onto Horse’s back. “Ada Aleshire of Adlington. My father is the Duke of Adlington, and one of the most powerful Edren sorcerers alive.”
He chuckled, mounting his horse as well. As he led the way out of the woods and back onto the dirt road, he glanced over at her. “We have asked your father for help controlling the highwaymen between our villages and yours. He has never responded.”
Ada smiled grimly. “I don’t believe you need to worry about highwaymen any longer.”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise and he studied her again with those light brown eyes. “You imply that you are more dangerous than you appear.”
“Since I look about as dangerous as that bunny back there, yes. I am more dangerous than I appear.”
He laughed. “I haven’t met many Edren sorcerers who are women. It’s rare, is it not?”
She shook her head, but gave him only half her attention as they rode up to his manor. It was a beautiful house with expansive gardens and a charming courtyard. “No, they are not rare, but most do not fight. It is believed that women are not as powerful as men and will die in battle.”
“But you fight.”
She nodded.
He slid off his horse, handing it to a stable boy. William barely glanced at him, but Ada’s chest contracted. That boy, at her home, would be Christian. Was he worried about her? Did he miss her? She had barely thought about him in her race to find the battle that seemed to be tugging at the flames in her blood, but now she felt like the world was much too dark. The urge to return home was nearly unbearable, but she had to eat first, or she would never make it. For as long as she could remember, she had never missed a meal, let alone two. Her stomach, and the rest of her, was not appreciative.
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Blinking, she realized William was offering his hand to help her down. She felt that ever annoying flush creep up her neck, and quickly slid into his arms. “Thank you,” she said, moving away, confused at the way her body responded. She should not have this reaction to anyone but Christian. Christian was the boy she loved, not this strange man who found life far too amusing.
Inside, she reluctantly handed her cloak to the butler at the door. Her gown was muddy, torn, and burned, not exactly fitting in a fine manor that housed no magical people. William smirked, just a bit, before leading her into the first room on their left.
A woman who bore a remarkable resemblance to William sat in the parlor. “Mother, this is Miss Aleshire. I have offered her a meal in exchange for helping with our highwaymen problem. And our rabbit problem.”
William’s mother rose. She was tall, at least as tall as Governess Buttercroft. She had William’s same light brown hair and eyes. “Adlington? And how are you related to the Duke of Adlington?”
Ada glanced away from the rose-colored mahogany furniture and the deep burgundy carpets. Fresh flowers stood in vases on nearly every flat surface and the smell was heavenly. She swallowed, trying again to focus on the woman before her. “He is my father.”
The woman froze in place, eyes widening. “Do you carry his gift then? Are you a sorcerer as well?”
Ada thought about letting her flames loose, at least a bit. But the woman looked positively frightened, and Ada didn’t want to singe the expensive-looking carpets or the beautiful furniture. “Sorceress. Yes. But you have no cause to fear. I’m highly trained and have even been taught how to behave in polite society.”
William burst out laughing. His mother shot him a sharp look before turning back to Ada. “Forgive me, my dear. We have not had the best experiences with the Edren sorcerers.” She held out a pale hand.
“There is nothing to forgive. I’m sorry that you feel that way, but I shall do my best to change your opinion.” Ada took her hand and curtsied.