First Light

by Michele Paige Holmes

  For the remainder of that night and all of the next day, everything went as I’d planned— or sort of planned. I really was making this up as we went along. But for a strategy so thrown together, I felt far more confident than I had the previous time, when we’d been in Nadamaris’s castle and forest, running from her, uncertain what we might encounter, and always on the defensive.

  By the eve following the ball, Kindra’s fires burned all over Nadamaris’s forest and ours. Kindra reported back to us that they were doing exactly what we had hoped, drawing out Nadamaris’s forces in search of the fairy— or fairies— who lit them, occupying the queen’s soldiers, leaving her alone to deal with the larger problem which would soon present itself— us.

  While Kindra was having fun with her kindling stick, Cristian and I set out to find the gypsies, a much easier task than I’d dared hope. Gemine’s mother had seen us coming in her crystal ball and apparently liked what she’d seen. By the time we arrived, the entire gypsy camp was ready and waiting to help, having gone so far as to saddle up their horses and arrange themselves in groups.

  Cristian and I rode into their camp together on a magnificent horse of our own. How good it felt to be with him, his arm securely around me, my back against his chest, close to his steadily beating heart. He sat with the regal and commanding posture of a king, and the gypsies— those not already on horseback— bowed to us when we stopped.

  Gemine sat at the head of the men, mounted and ready, a sword strapped to his side. He looked at me, and my heart softened. Because he’d taken the last pearl, Cristian was beside me now.

  Perhaps this is how it was to be all along. The thought was more than confusing.

  “Thank you.” I smiled at Gemine, feeling nothing but goodwill. “Thank you for being so brave.”

  The gypsies rode out, their mission to deal with the Baldwinidad soldiers Nadamaris would inevitably send to our border. I wanted the odds more in our favor this time, and meeting Nadamaris alone seemed the best way to ensure that. I was hopeful all the distractions we were planting would help.

  Cristian and I returned to the castle and spent an evening in counsel with the fairies, our parents, and Hale and Cecilia. The fire in the hearth crackled warmly, and Maggie produced an excellent soup with only slightly burned buns, but there was no celebration among us. The chess set Cristian and I had played lay untouched, our hearts heavy with the weight of much higher stakes. No one returned to his or her chamber to sleep. King Addison— my father— wished us all under guard of both the Canelian soldiers and the fairies. I took a quilt from the pile that had been brought into the room and curled up before the fire, intending to sleep as I had those many weeks in the kitchen.

  The queen— my mother— came to tuck the blanket around me. Still uncomfortable in my role as long-lost daughter, I closed my eyes, feigning sleep.

  She brushed aside my hair and placed a gentle kiss on my brow. “Good night, my sweet Adrielle.” Her words overflowed with a mother’s love— love I’d craved for as long as I could remember. I sat up and flung my arms around her.

  She held me tightly as we both wept. “My Adrielle, my dear, sweet Adrielle. How I’ve missed you so.”

  I had missed her, too, though I hadn’t realized it. How happy I was at the prospect of getting to know her— and the king, too. Though I knew I should always think of the man who raised me, his best friend Stephen, as my father. He had loved me with a real father’s love. As for his wife, I understood her better now and forgave her harshness toward me. Having just buried a stillborn child, she’d been asked to take me in, to pretend I was that child and to take me far away from the life she knew. It had been much to ask, but there had been even more. Cecilia, her eldest, had been traded away for a life in the castle, used as a pawn. It was a wonder my step-mother had been able to care for me at all.

  I thought on all this and more as I lay before the fire. Cristian slept a few feet away, a soft snore escaping his lips occasionally. I felt happy he could sleep before the danger that lay ahead. I so wanted to spare him harm this time, to protect him as he’d sought to protect me. Love, warm and overflowing, filled my heart as I looked around the room at all those I’d come to know and care about. Only a short while ago, I’d been alone, my prospects for happiness bleak. Now I had a home and family and— Cristian.

  We must not lose.

  Before dawn lit the sky, Cristian and I arose. Merry Anne brought us thick, warm clothing, knit from a soft, heavy yarn I’d never felt before. Zipporah rushed into the room, handing me my very own pair of shoes from the future and made just for running. Florence tucked herbs and potions into my satchel. Kindra was still out keeping watch and tending her many fires.

  The fairies left, and we hurried to get ready. Silently, I changed behind a screen in the corner. All in the castle— save Cristian and me— slept on. As a precaution against any who might attempt to travel with us, Florence had put a sleeping potion in their tea the previous evening. Hale had been insisting he must come with us to fight his mother, and both Cristian’s father and mine had their armies at the ready to accompany us as well.

  It would not have suited. As foretold, to truly put an end to the curse and Nadamaris’s power, we had to go alone. And alone we would be. Florence said all at the castle would slumber until the curse was broken. I’d not the heart to ask what would become of them if the curse was not broken. If Nadamaris remained in power, everlasting sleep seemed a merciful option. Though— should the worst happen— I supposed the fairies would wake our fathers in time to ready their armies.

  But that would not be necessary. Cristian and I were going to defeat the queen.

  When I’d finished dressing, I stepped from behind the screen to see Cristian— his shirt removed— a grimly curious expression on his face as he examined a scar zigzagging across his shoulder.

  “Black magic always leaves a mark,” I whispered. I should have realized he’d have one, too; his wounds had been so grievous, and the dragon had certainly been some form of black magic. I crossed the distance between us and stood on tiptoe, pressing my lips to Cristian’s shoulder. I lifted my eyes to his, vowing, “Not this time.”

  He turned my hand over, palm up, and we both stared at the thin, white line on my fingertip. “Not this time,” he agreed.

  We left the castle grounds and made our way deep into the forest. We dared not even bring a horse but walked almost all of the day, nearing the border of the land, but not crossing into Baldwinidad. We chose an open meadow for our place of meeting— reasoning it would be less likely that Nadamaris might surprise us there— and gathered dry grass and brittle wood and piled it high. I lit the fire, and we stood together, watching it as the flames leapt higher and enchanted sparks made their way to the sky. It would not take long for the queen to find us now.

  Back to back, Cristian and I sat a short distance from the fire. We were both on alert, scanning the forest continually, lest she take us by surprise. While we waited, I did my best— as I had on our walk today— to tell Cristian all that had transpired the first time we’d lived this night, all he couldn’t remember.

  “I died?” he said when I’d come to the end of the story.

  “Almost,” I corrected, the anguish of nearly losing him still fresh.

  “I had no idea that sword was in Rincoln,” Cristian said. “I never would have taken you there. My father told me that after Nadamaris cursed it, the sword and its stone were taken far away, removed from Canelia’s garden and hidden where no one could find them.”

  “Three guesses as to who did and then put them in that garden in Rincoln,” I said drily.

  “You were right to think that we still weren’t out of danger once we crossed the border.” Christian took my hand and gave a gentle squeeze.

  In the sharing of our ordeal, I’d felt a return to the intimacy we’d experienced during those two days. He couldn’t remember all that had happened, but he believed me, and that was all that mattered.

  “
It turned out the sword was more a danger to you than me,” I mused.

  “It is well,” Cristian said thoughtfully, “that it is miles from here."

  “No sword for me tonight,” I agreed, feeling far more confident with the items I had brought— fast shoes, flint and steel and a pouch full of kindling, and a vial of the most powerful herbal remedy known to man— or fairy.

  “I would feel better if you had a weapon, too,” he said.

  “Why not use this one?” In a haze of black smoke, Nadamaris appeared beside the fire suddenly, not having emerged from the trees as we’d expected, but having arrived by some other, magical means.

  It was simple to guess where she’d come from. Her half-bald head cast an eerie glow about her as the folds of her dress fell aside, revealing the magnificent sword hanging there. The ruby at the top of the hilt caught the light from the fire, and I felt my breath catch in my throat. She raised it in the air, then flung it toward us. We jumped up and scrambled apart as it spun in the dirt, stopping to rest in the exact spot we’d been sitting.

  “Don’t touch it!” Cristian and I both warned each other at once. Our eyes met, and I read in his new understanding. Shock and pain, rage, fear, and grief swept across his face. Seeing the sword that had nearly claimed our lives somehow returned his memory. He unsheathed his weapon.

  “She’ll do more than touch it,” Nadamaris said, her lip curling in a sneer as she looked him over. “Before the night is through, she’ll beg me to use it on her.”

  “She won’t,” Cristian said. “You won’t,” he reiterated, glancing at me.

  Nadamaris shook her head back and forth in a slow, teasing manner. “It’s as certain as her love for you. When faced with your death or hers, Adrielle will make the choice to die every time— just as she did in wishing us all back here together.”

  She remembers! I felt the blood drain from my face as the shock of her words— and their implications— set in. If I’ve had time to plan… so has she. With shaking fingers, I withdrew the flint and steel from my pouch.

  She clicked her long nails together. “So kind of you to bring me back to life, Adrielle.” She took a step closer, and her hand whipped through the air, knocking Cristian’s sword away as if it was a twig. He dove to retrieve it as I ignited a piece of kindling and flung it at Nadamaris.

  She puckered her lips and blew the flame out before it touched her sleeve. “No fires from you this time. You’ll have to think of something better.” She waved both arms at the bonfire I’d built, and the entire thing went out, extinguished as if it had never been there. I wondered if any embers were even warm.

  Cristian stood at my side again. His stance was wide, his sword held tight in both hands “No matter what, do not touch that sword.” Cristian sounded as he had when we’d fought before, confident and in command. As the king he’d trained to be.

  “You mustn’t touch it either.” I returned full attention to Nadamaris.

  “Don’t worry your pretty face about him,” Nadamaris said. “You’re the one who will give in, just as before when the sword was the only thing that would save your beloved.”

  “Don’t listen to her,” Cristian shouted.

  “She doesn’t have to. It’s all right here.” Nadamaris reached into another fold of her dress and withdrew the crystal ball I’d seen earlier in Gemine’s mother’s wagon. “The gypsies showed me.” She rolled the ball toward us. It stopped at our feet, and I couldn’t keep myself from looking down, from seeing the miniature image of myself bending down, reaching for the sword.

  “No.” Cristian took my hand and pulled me backward. “Run, Adrielle. You can still run. Use your gift; save yourself.”

  Nadamaris threw her head back, and her shrieking laugh filled the forest. “She won’t leave you. She loves you too much. I’ve seen her touch the sword, and I’ve seen the blood on her hands. You are destined to fail.”

  Were we? For a treacherous second, I believed her. Then my mind latched on to her choice of words. Destined. We were destined to defeat her, and somehow we would. I hadn’t returned Cristian to life to watch him suffer again. With a bold kick, I sent the sword spiraling toward Nadamaris and lit two more flames. I flung them both at once, aiming for either side of her head. She managed to extinguish one, but the other struck her perfectly coiffed hair, igniting at once.

  She screamed and swatted at her head, but it was too late. The damage had been almost immediate. As before, when she’d died, her hair blackened and fell to the ground as ash. She stood in front of us completely bald.

  Her raging shouts filled the forest, and her hands lashed out, throwing both Cristian and me backward. She struck again, and it felt as if her nails had raked across my cheek. My fire starters had scattered to the ground beside Cristian’s sword. Nadamaris picked the weapon up and advanced on us.

  I scrambled to my feet and tried to stand beside Cristian, but he pushed me behind him.

  “Charming.” Nadamaris reached forward, her hand closing as if she’d seized Cristian by the neck. He acted as if she had and struggled against the invisible pull towing him to her. I threw my arms around his stomach and tried to pull him back, but this only seemed to intensify his choking so that I was forced to let go. In a matter of seconds, he was in her grasp, the tip of his own sword at his neck.

  “Wait,” I cried, my eyes flickering to the cursed sword, still lying across the clearing where I’d kicked it. She was right. If Cristian was to have any chance, I would have to touch the sword.

  “Be a good girl and pick it up.” Nadamaris’s eyes followed me as I hurried to do her bidding.

  “No—” Cristian’s protest was cut short by the prick of the blade at his neck. A trickle of blood began dripping down to his shoulder. I ran to the sword and grabbed the handle. My mind whirled as fast as my body as I faced Nadamaris, the heavy weapon dragging at my side.

  “I’ve got it. Let him go. I’ll do anything you say. I’ll prick my finger. You can even prick my finger. Do anything you want to me. Just let him go.” My tears were real, my plea genuine. I couldn’t lose Cristian again.

  Nadamaris thrust him to the ground, then narrowed her eyes, peering at the nearby trees. Her gaze lingered on one, and she pointed Cristian’s sword at him, where he lay on the ground, his hand over his neck covered in blood. She pointed the blade in the air, and Cristian began rising, as if suspended from the tip. His arms flailed, and his legs kicked the air, but he was powerless against her invisible strength. She slammed him against a tree and left him, caught on a stubby limb high above the ground.

  “I’ll deal with you later,” she said.

  I forced myself to look away from him, to concentrate on Nadamaris and on everything I knew about magic, both good and bad. It was all I had left.

  “What was it you were saying?” she asked, stepping closer.

  “I—” I backed away, purposely faltering, allowing the overwhelming fear to show on my face. The sword fell from my grip. I glanced at Cristian and saw him fighting to free himself from his perch. Even if he succeeded, it would be too late. I swallowed the lump of emotion constricting my throat but couldn’t stop the flow of tears.

  Nadamaris closed the gap between us. She held her hand out, and the sword flew into it. Use it against me, I silently pled. I could see no other way. This is our only chance. And I wasn’t even certain it would work.

  “Hold out your hand.” Nadamaris tried to control me with her eyes, but I resisted.

  “Let me have Cristian’s sword,” I said. “If you’re such a powerful queen, if you know the outcome already—” my gaze slid to the crystal ball “—then you won’t be afraid to give me a chance.”

  She shrieked with laughter at this but sent Cristian’s sword flying at me. I caught its hilt and held tight, grateful it wasn’t as heavy as the cursed blade.

  “You never had a chance,” Nadamaris said. “It may have been foretold that you would defeat me by— love.” Disdain filled her voice. “And so you did. But
I have the ultimate triumph. In the end, love only costs you.” Her hand went to her bald head. “In your case, everything.”

  “You loved your father once,” I blurted, wanting her to think of him, to have that experience fresh in her mind.

  “And he only ever cared for my sister,” she said bitterly.

  “You could have loved Hale,” I said.

  “Don’t bring up my idiot of a son. Although his incompetence allows me to be the one to personally kill you, so perhaps I ought to thank him.” She glared at me. “Now fight.”

  I had no idea how to defend myself or attack her. I knew only that I must not let her sword touch my fingers. But I’ll have to allow her to strike me elsewhere. It was the only chance we had. Silently I prayed for courage as I curled my fingertips over the sword’s handle and dodged her blows.

  We danced around the clearing a time or two. I was sport for her and could tell she was growing bored while my terror grew with each clang of metal. I was afraid of her sword. Afraid it had more power than I understood and its magic would not be able to be undone.

  My eyes flickered upward for a brief second. Cristian was lowering himself from the tree, the thick, spun yarn of Merry Anne’s garment, supporting him, unraveling slowly as he made his descent. If Nadamaris notices— if she strikes him. In a split second I made my decision. Nadamaris had lunged, and instead of blocking her blow, I raised my arms high in the air. Her blade swished in front of me, connecting with my stomach as a sharp pain sliced through me. Cristian’s sword fell and I beside it. My hands went to my stomach and the warm blood already seeping through my shirt.

  “Adrielle.” Cristian reached my side, hopeless terror etched in his features.

  “Love,” Nadamaris scoffed. “See if it will save you now.” She lifted the sword as if to proclaim victory but shrieked instead. The blade clattered to the ground, and she continued screaming, as she stared at her hands, already shriveled and blackening. The evil from the sword was flowing back into her. It would kill her as it had Cristian.