First Light (Forever After Series)

by Michele Paige Holmes

  “Hello, Cristian.” She was smiling and serious at the same time.

  “Hello,” he muttered then glanced back, as a feeling of unease came over him. He turned toward the castle and the woman followed, falling into step beside him.

  “You miss Adrielle terribly,” she said.

  He grunted a response.

  “You’d like to see her again, to be free to love her.”

  “I’d like not to discuss this with you— or anyone else,” Cristian grumbled.

  “Too bad.” The woman was in front of him suddenly, that stick she always carried stuck right up in his face. He pushed it aside and scorched his finger.

  “Ow!” He pulled back, both irritated and in pain now. “What did you do that for?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” the red-haired woman said pertly. “You did.”

  “Did you just pull that thing out of a fire or something?” Cristian asked, glaring at her.

  “A few minutes ago, yes. But regardless, it’s always hot. Part of my magic.”

  “I don’t believe in magic,” he scoffed. “Or curses or fairies or—”

  “— Love?”

  “I didn’t say that.” He tried to sidestep around her, but she was quick and blocked his way again. “What do you want with me?”

  “Only to make you happy. To give you hope.” Both her tone and the stern look on her face softened. She touched his arm lightly and sighed. “Why does it always take the men longer to believe? It would make it so much easier if you had just a little more faith.”

  “In what?” he asked, feeling slightly more intrigued than irritated now. What did she mean by all this talk of love and hope?

  “In things you cannot always see but can feel.”

  Her answer confused him further. “Feeling does not require faith.”

  “Following your feelings does,” she countered. “Trusting your heart to choose what is right.” She looked directly into his eyes and held his gaze with her own.

  “Doing one’s duty is what is right,” Cristian said, sounding very much like his father. “Honoring a contract entered into long ago requires faith as well.”

  “That is true,” she agreed. “And noble.”

  “But—” He waited, guessing there was more to her argument and strangely wanting to hear it.

  “Contracts are all well and good. But that is not what will stop Nadamaris and save this kingdom. Love is. You know that. You’ve experienced it already. You just refuse to believe— and remember.” A breeze lifted her hair, and she stepped aside, moving her stick in a circle before them. Leaves stirred at his feet then rose in a tight whirlwind. Entranced, he stared at them as faster and faster they circled until in their depths he thought he saw something. Someone. Adrielle— standing on a wagon bed, her face tilted to the sky. He was there with her, and when he touched her thunder clapped and rain fell. And fell and fell and fell.

  “We did that.” It was like remembering a long-forgotten dream. But one he’d actually lived. “Adrielle and I broke the curse— not Cecilia and I. What does that mean?” He turned to his companion, but she had vanished.

  Love her. Love Adrielle. Whether the words came to his mind or as an actual whisper in his ear, he could not tell. The whirlwind before him changed, and he saw the red-haired woman bending over a cradle, taking a baby from it. Her sisters were clustered around her and together, the four of them took the baby from the room— from the castle.

  Cristian blinked and the castle was gone. In its place was a humble farmhouse. The four women were there again. They placed the child in the outstretched arms of a weeping man. Cecilia stood beside the man. She hugged him briefly then followed the four women from the room. A second later the castle was back, there before him— not as part of a vision, but the actual castle. Without realizing it, he’d left the orchard and stood in the shadow of the tower, near the door to the kitchen. But instead of being late afternoon, the sky was dark and filled with stars.

  “This is not real,” he whispered, but he wanted it to be.

  The kitchen door opened and Adrielle came out, dressed in an exquisite green ball gown, with her hair done up and satin slippers on her feet. She paused on the threshold, and he looked at her as if seeing for the first time. Her past, present, and future unfolded in bursts before him— far too brief to comprehend all of it, but tangible enough that he knew.

  Cristian gasped. “She is—”

  Yes. The voice in his head was back.

  His own, choked laugh broke the silence, and the vision before him disappeared. It was afternoon again, and the kitchen door opened. Adrielle, dressed in brown homespun, opened the door and carried two buckets out to the yard. This was no vision. He heard her step and watched as water sloshed from the pail and left drops on the dusty earth. She passed by without seeing him. But he saw her true self, as regal as if she wore the finest gown and had a circlet of jewels in her hair.

  Cristian fell to his knees, hands to his head as the knowledge of who she was and all she had been through pierced his heart and humbled and overwhelmed him. Love her. Protect her. Keep her secret a little longer.

  He would. He would lay down his life for her if it came to that.

  The kitchen door banged open, startling me. Maggie and I looked up from our work as Mason burst through the doorway, his face flushed, his breathing heavy.

  “You’ve been summoned to the castle,” he got out.

  Maggie’s face paled. She sent a glance my direction then reached behind for her apron strings. “Summoned.” She spoke the word in a half whisper, as if someone had died. “Who was it sent you? Did they say why they want to see me?”

  “Not you.” Mason shook his mop of unkempt hair. “The king and queen want to see Adrielle. They know she’s been doing the baking and want to meet her to discuss the wedding cake.”

  Maggie took a step backward, tripped over the nearest stool, and fell to the floor. A second later her fingers reappeared, gripping the table edge as she steadied herself. “We’re in trouble now. They’ll have both our heads.”

  “I’ve done nothing wrong,” I protested, feeling rather alarmed at the way both Mason and Maggie were reacting to news that thrilled me. I’d wanted to get inside the castle for weeks.

  And now? This might be my last chance to talk with Cristian, or to discover anything about my sister.

  “Off with you. A royal summons is not to be ignored.” Maggie shooed me out the door. “Mind ye don’t blame me for your being here. I had naught to do with it— you just showed up, and me needing help, what was I to do?”

  I waved away her concerns and strode toward the castle, realizing— the moment she slammed the kitchen door behind me— that I hadn’t grabbed my cloak. The cold seeped through the fabric of my dress, and I shoved my fingers deep into my apron pockets to keep them warm on the short walk. It was good I’d kept the apron on. With a little luck, after my interview with the king and queen, I’d be able to sneak off and explore. An apron might help with the ruse that I was a servant who belonged there.

  I treaded the well-worn path that led from the kitchen to the castle’s side entrance. More than a time or two I’d followed it and tried to gain entrance with a tray of bread or pastries as my excuse. It had never worked; all doors were closely guarded. But I supposed they’d let me in now.

  I was nearly there when the sound of voices stopped me. I paused, watching as a couple in rich clothing emerged from beneath an arbor that led to one of the gardens. The young man was tall and handsome, a boyish smile on his face. The girl was stunningly beautiful, with petite features and long, dark hair that trailed down to her waist. They walked side by side, her hand linked easily through his arm.

  I stared mesmerized, overwhelmed, stung by their easy camaraderie. The same camaraderie I’d felt with this same young man— with Cristian.

  They continued their stroll, oblivious to my presence. And though I wished to turn back or disappear, I stood rooted to the spot, unable to tear my
eyes away.

  Look at me. Remember me. Remember what we accomplished together, I longed to call out but could not find my voice.

  “Hello, Adrielle,” Henrie said, coming up beside me.

  “Hello,” I said, forcing my attention to him.

  “Ten days more, and they will be married.” His gaze followed Cristian and Princess Cecilia as they left our sight.

  “Yes, I know.” I spoke quietly, looking down at my clasped hands, my eyes stinging.

  “Everyone is very pleased that Cristian has finally accepted his duty.”

  Everyone but me. “When you see him next, please express my congratulations.”

  Henrie touched my arm. “You should know— it has been hard for him.”

  “Thank you for that, at least,” I said. “And what of me? Should I pretend that I never knew him, that we were never friends?”

  “That would probably be best,” Henrie said. “It is what will be required of him.”

  “I see.” The future stretched before me as bleak and lonely as Maggie’s.

  I turned quickly away from the castle and Henrie before he could see the tears spilling down my cheeks.

  In a sort of pained stupor I wandered among the empty trees of the orchard, wanting to be in the place Cristian and I had spent so much time together. Royal summons or not, I could not risk going to the castle, seeing him, and making an utter fool of myself in front of all. Instead, I attempted to form a plan, to figure out where I should go and what I should do next, but the same things kept going around and around in my mind. My sister Cecilia— whoever and wherever she is. The fairies— why had they sent a carriage for me in the first place? And then given me the charmed bracelet? And mostly… Cristian— how am I ever supposed to live without him? My chest hurt so much when I thought of it, that it seemed I could hardly breathe.

  The sunset came on quickly, and it was full dark before I reached the end of the row and the edge of the orchard. As I stepped out from between the trees, a fierce wind gusted, nearly knocking me backward. I grabbed the nearest tree and clung to it as thunder rumbled overhead. A deep, evil sort of laugh seemed to echo around me, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. No lightning had lit the sky before the thunder, and no rain fell from the sky following it. The wind picked up, and a deep cold penetrated the orchard. My hair whipped back behind me, exposing my ears to the bitter chill. In a matter of minutes they burned with pain, but I dared not let go of the tree trunk to cover them.

  Another clap of thunder shook the sky, and the very earth beneath me. Trembling with cold and fear, I sank to the ground, careful to keep my hands locked around the tree. I tried valiantly to pull my feet in beneath me, but the wicked wind ripped off one of my shoes, and shards of debris pelted my bare leg and foot. Bending my head against the trunk, I bit back a terrified scream.

  What kind of storm is this? Back home the wind never blew so fiercely, and the cold was never so bitter. Even stranger— and worse— was the total darkness smothering the orchard. I couldn’t see the lights from the castle or outbuildings; the stars and moon appeared obliterated. I couldn’t see the tree in front of me, though my nose brushed against it.

  The pearls must have been warm against my skin, but I was so frozen I couldn’t feel them— couldn’t feel much of anything after a few minutes more. My lips had turned to ice, so that I could not even voice a wish. Only iron resolve from the deepest part of my soul and a terror of where I might be swept away to kept my fingers entwined against the frozen trunk. Each moment was agony. What I wouldn’t have given for the warmth of the kitchen. I’d stand on my feet and bake buns for six months straight, if only I could survive this. But Maggie wouldn’t come looking for me. No one would venture out in this weather, and if I didn’t return in the morning, she’d probably assume the worst— that after being summoned to the castle I had, like other outsiders, simply vanished, never to return.

  Is this how they vanish? I wondered. Had the king and queen discovered my intrusion and were now, through some magical force, sweeping me away?

  Stubbornly, I refused to be swept, clinging to the tree trunk, long after my fingers should have been too frozen to do so.

  “Adrielle!” Merry Anne’s voice sounded distant.

  Merry Anne! My thoughts replied. She’ll use her magic. She’ll find me. I hung onto that hope and continued to fight for my life. My eyelids closed, and I found I could not open them again. They were frozen shut. Though no rain or snow came with the wicked wind, I’d never felt colder. Beneath my fingers the tree trunk seemed to have turned to ice. I felt my hands slipping against its smooth, polished surface.

  Sleep beckoned temptingly. I stayed awake as long as I could but felt myself losing the battle. A few minutes longer and I could endure no more but slipped blissfully away to the dark.

  The world came slowly into focus. I lay on my back in an unfamiliar bed and room— both far more lavish than any I’d resided in previously. Heavy brocade curtains lined the canopy bed, beyond which, blurred shapes indicated ornate furnishings and a large fireplace.

  It seemed I’d finally made it inside the castle.

  Every part of my body ached, and I felt chilled through, though a thick quilt covered me. My teeth chattered, and I hadn’t the strength to stop them. Finding the effort of keeping my eyes open too tiresome, I closed them once more.

  “Still not awake. Poor dear.” Merry Anne’s voice.

  But I am, I thought and waited for her to read my thoughts. When she didn’t I felt perplexed but decided to pretend sleep anyway. Perhaps the fairies would speak more freely if they thought me unaware.

  “'Tis better she sleeps for now.” I recognized Kindra’s voice as well. “We’d best get to work on her feet at once. Or there will be no dancing at the ball.”

  “No dancing ever,” Florence murmured, then drew in her breath sharply at the precise moment I felt the coverlet lifted from my feet. “Oh dear. I’m not certain the herbs can fix that.”

  Fix what? I wondered and dared to peek. All four fairy sisters hovered, their backs to me, near the end of the bed. Though human-sized at the moment, their wings were out, fluttering as rapidly as they did when tiny. My gaze followed Zipporah as she flew away and sat herself on the edge of an armchair, hands over her face as she wept.

  “We have failed her.”

  “Nonsense,” Kindra said. I looked back to her and the other fairies and witnessed a most revolting site. My toes, no longer flesh-colored, were black and swollen. Swallowing a sob, I squeezed my eyes shut once more.

  “I’ve never seen such a terrible case,” Merry Anne said. “Can you mend them?”

  “Ye— es,” Kindra said, not sounding completely confident. “Wands out, please. Merry Anne and Florence, take her left foot. Zipporah and I shall work on the right. Ready?” Kindra paused at the sound of more sobbing. “For heaven’s sake, pull yourself together, Zipporah.”

  “But her feet,” Zipporah wailed. “And she so loves to run.”

  “And she shall again.” Kindra’s voice was firmer this time. “But speed is of the essence. You understand.”

  I heard the faint fluttering of fairy wings, and a moment later Kindra began.

  “Body chilled and soul so cold, do thou now as thou art told.”

  Four pinpricks of heat stabbed my big toes.

  “Warm thee from the inside out, Return to a state whereabouts

  Adrielle shall run once more and be whole as she was before.”

  More pinpricks spattered across the tops of my toes. I took it as a good sign that I could feel them, but a few minutes later when I chanced another look, I still saw only grotesque black, along with Kindra staring pensively at my feet.

  “The spell isn’t working, is it?” Florence asked gently.

  Kindra shook her head. “I fear her feet may yet require the axe."

  No! I wanted to cry but could not seem to form the simple word. My heart raced in panic, and tears leaked from my eyes and slid down the side
s of my face.

  “Sisters,” Zipporah cried suddenly. “Adrielle’s crying. We’re hurting her.”

  “This isn’t working, anyway,” Kindra said. “All of you away. Florence, finish brewing your tea, and leave me to work alone.”

  I felt a breeze pass my face as they scattered. Across the room, teacups rattled. Beneath the covers, my hands clenched into fists, and I tried to take comfort in that. Perhaps my fingers were not as afflicted.

  “She’s still shivering,” Merry Anne said. “I keep thinking I sense her thoughts, but then— nothing. Her mind is not yet fully awake.”

  “If only she’d come to the castle when summoned,” Florence said.

  “Or if she’d noticed the storm a moment sooner and tried to run.” Zipporah’s voice lacked its usual speed.

  “As if anyone could outrun Nadamaris,” Kindra said.

  “The tea is ready,” Florence announced. “I believe it will restore— most all.”

  “Wake, Adrielle.” Merry Anne commanded.

  Heavy lidded, my eyes opened to find all four fairies anxiously peering down at me. Zipporah helped me sit up, and Florence brought me a steaming teacup. I took a sip and found it sweet and irresistible, then drank the whole thing down too quickly to decipher what herbs she’d used. A delightful warmth began spreading through my body.

  “Thank you, Florence.” I lay my head back on the pillows.

  “Poor dear,” Merry Anne said. “You’ve had a terrible time.”

  “What happened?” I asked, for the moment more curious than anything else. The warmth flowing through me felt magical enough that I believed even my feet might be made whole by it.

  Florence went to the window and pulled back the tapestry. “Nadamaris sent a storm last night.”

  I turned my head to see what she was looking at and saw the blackened remains of the orchards. From here it almost appeared as if a fire had swept through them. Impossible one woman could have caused that much destruction.

  “Oh, it’s possible,” Merry Anne said, but she smiled. “You are back with us now. Your thoughts are crystal clear again.”