The Spark of a Feudling (13 page)

****

They spent the next several days studying spell books, which meant they both started practicing the many old, forgotten spells they found in their research. Christian started creating illustrations of different combined spells, ones that could potentially create the doorway he wanted.

Inventing spells was less the actual design burned into the air, and more the channeling of flames into what the desired outcome would be. When he was in battle, he visualized every spell in his mind before he burned it. However, it still needed to have the right general twists and turns or all the channeling and visualizing in the world would do him no good.

Scarlett stood and stretched, coming over to admire his work. “I've missed you,” she said, ruffling his hair.

He chuckled. “I haven't gone anywhere, Mother.”

Scarlett moved away, opening the next book in her pile. Dust billowed around her and she sniffed and sneezed. Christian coughed — these books were so old, he was surprised the paper didn't disintegrate in their hands. Scarlett scanned through several pages before she finally looked at him again. “You have not been yourself.”

He felt the anger at that, broiling and churning, but
his
flames smothered it, as they could only when Scarlett was near. “I am powerful, Mother.”

Her eyes were sad. “Yes, my son. You are powerful.”

****

“You have another caller, Miss.” Charity curtsied quickly, amusement sparkling in her eyes. She treated polite society as a game.

To Ada, it was not a game. More like a unique form of punishment. “Funny, aren't you?” She scowled at Charity, who giggled and danced away. “Can I plead sick? I've already had four callers today and there's a ball tonight.”

Charity straightened. “It's Mr. Langley, Ada.”

Ada sat up quickly, setting her book aside. “I'll be right there.” Charity smiled, but Ada could see the sadness in her eyes, and it made Ada feel like a traitor.
I still love your brother. Otherwise, my heart would not still beat in many cracked and broken pieces.

But Mr. Langley made her laugh. He was her friend. And she would be lying if she said she did not feel anything for him. Where Christian, lately, had been pain and turmoil and chaos, William was safety and amusement and friendship.

“Mr. Langley. How nice to see you again,” Ada said as she swept into the room, having mastered her mother's ability to twitch her skirts just so.

William rose, that ever-present smile brightening Ada's spirits in a way that none of the flowers and chocolates her other suitors brought had.

“Miss Aleshire You look beautiful, as always.” He bent low over her hand, his thumb brushing lightly against her palm and sending delicious shivers down her spine.

William seemed agitated, nervous. He was always so calm and confident. It confused Ada and she wasn't sure how to act around this unfamiliar version of the friend he'd become. When he didn't say anything for several long and awkward seconds, she finally gave up. “You're a mess, William. What is going on?”

He froze, staring at her with his jaw hanging open, and then he laughed. His laughter seemed to chase away most of his discomfort, and he ran a hand down his face, fighting for a solemn expression. “I am here for a specific reason, Ada.”

It was the first time she could remember him using her given name. It sounded nice coming from his full lips. She quirked a brow, planting her hands on her hips. “And that reason would be...?”

“I—”

Charity arrived with the tea, and William froze. Fighting to hide a smile, Ada took the kettle and poured William's cup, and then her own. “Sugar?”

“Please.”

She dropped in two spoonfuls and handed him his cup. “What specific reason are you here for, William?”

Charity, who acted as their chaperone, cleared her throat and Ada frowned. “Mr. Langley, I mean.”

“I'm doing this backward, I realize... I should ask your father first, but I didn't want to ask him if you were against it because clearly you are in possession of your own mind and it should be your decision...”

Ada froze, horror nearly closing her throat completely. “William?” she whispered, and this time Charity didn't correct her.

“I would like your permission to court you.”

“My—my permission.” Ada blinked at him with wide eyes, feeling very much like an owl.

“Yes. I should like to get to know you better, and you to get to know me better.”

“But...” Ada glanced at Charity for help, but her friend stared at the floor without a word. “But you know what I am! None of the others knew, so I could understand—”

William interrupted her. “Others?”

“I—yes. I have had five others ask my mother's permission to court me.”

“Five?” William sounded strangled. “Your mother?”

“Yes, apparently it is polite to ask one's mother if one's father is not present.” Ada smiled, patting his hand. “Don't worry. You are my favorite.”

The color returned to his face and he sipped his tea. “You will save me a spot on your dance card tonight?”

“I will save you two spots if you'd like.” She grinned. He was easy to banter with, as long as she didn't think too much on what he'd just asked her, and why it thrilled her that he had.

He ducked his head shyly, peeking at her from beneath his long dark lashes. “Does that mean I have your permission?”

“Yes, Mr. Langley. You do.”

She saw him to the door, shut it quietly behind her, and whirled on Charity. “What am I going to do? I don't want to marry him!”

Charity sank onto the stairs, looking up at Ada. She had recovered quite well in her time away from Richard. She hadn't had an episode once in all this time. But still she looked so tired, so pale all the time. Ada was so busy studying her, she didn't realize Charity had asked her something until her friend raised a pale eyebrow in amusement. “Oh dear. What?” Ada asked.

Charity chuckled. “I asked why. What's wrong with him? You seem to like him quite a bit.”

“I do like him.” Ada wrung her hands, twisting her fingers. “But...”
he's not Christian.

“Ada,” Charity said gently. “Your father will never allow you to marry my brother. You know that.”

Ada folded her arms across her chest and glared at the floor. “I don't care if I have my father's blessing. I love Christian. He's kind. He's gentle. He makes me smile. And he's handsome.”

“Also, he's my brother. Let's not make me ill, yes?” Charity teased. She pulled herself to her feet and dragged Ada up the stairs. “We must get you ready for the ball. You have suitors awaiting you.”

Ada's dress was a deep sapphire silk with a sweetheart neckline. She'd added lace to keep it decent, since her mother had insisted the seamstress lower the neckline so much it bordered on scandalous. “No one will be able to take their eyes from you this evening.” Charity stood back, proudly admiring her handiwork with Ada's hair.

Ada stared in the mirror. Gone was the girl who used to climb trees and race through the meadow and steal kisses from the stable boy. That girl wasn't even somewhere inside anymore. She didn't know who she was, and the only thing she had to hold on to were the warrior flames running through her blood. “Charity? I'm frightened.”

“Everyone grows up, Ada. We can't be children forever.”

Ada met Charity's eyes in the mirror and smiled. She'd been wrong — she didn't have just her flames. She had Charity. Her dearest friend in the world. Charity, who always knew what to say and how to make everything okay. Who risked her life to do what was right. “You saved the queen as much as I did,” Ada said suddenly.

Charity flushed and moved across the room to sit by the hearth. It was January, after all, and very cold. Charity, without flames to keep her warm, felt the chill when Ada did not. “I did nothing.”

“You ventured into the palace, surrounded by who knows how many aristocrats and their frightened daughters. You found your way there all by yourself, and you told me how to find her. All I was, in our adventure, was the spells.”

“Ada!” Vivian bellowed.

“We have household staff whose job is to fetch me so that she doesn't have to scream so blasted much,” Ada muttered. “And does she use them? No. Not at all.” She hugged Charity good-bye and left to face yet another ball.

This ball, however, was interesting, since she had six men who had declared their intentions, and all of them seemed eager to get the rest out of Ada's vision. She found herself hiding behind a thick curtain at one point. Who knew bachelors could be so… direct? Weren't they supposed to be fighting marriage? “They will find you eventually. You can't hide forever.” William appeared next to her, casually leaning against the wall and staring out at the dance floor so as not to give away her hiding spot.

“What is wrong with them? Have they all lost their minds?” she whispered fiercely.

“It's possible. You don't seem to realize, Ada—” William said, keeping his tones low, “—what a rare beauty you are.”

She scoffed. “It isn't my beauty they want. It's my father's title and his money. I may be new to this world, but I'm not daft.”

William finally looked at her directly, brown eyes glittering. “Trust me, Ada, those are not the only reasons. Or even the main ones.” He buffed his nails on his shirt front, grinning. “Some of us have titles and money of our own.”

Ada felt the tension in her shoulders relax, just a bit. “That is why you are my favorite, William.”

His smile widened and he held out his hand. “It is my dance now, is it not?”

She took his hand and allowed him to pull her from the curtains, touching her hair to make sure it hadn't been mussed by the hiding. He twirled her around the dance floor, making her laugh, making her forget the dramatics of the evening or how much she wanted to escape and go home. Almost, he made her forget Christian, but not quite.

In fact, as they danced through the end of the song, she saw someone over his shoulder that she would swear
was
Christian. Only taller, bigger, more confident. William turned her right then and she nearly wrenched her neck trying to see behind her, but the man was gone. She frowned. Apparently she missed Christian so much she was now seeing phantom images of him.

The dance ended and she curtsied before escaping to the balcony and praying no one followed her. The shock of even thinking she'd seen Christian had shattered her heart into a thousand jagged fragments once again. She gulped lungfuls of air as she fought not to sob. Suddenly, the men's attention, her popularity, even all William's smiles and kindness and witty conversation were not a salve anymore. She missed Christian. It was made worse by the fact that they had parted badly, and she hadn't said goodbye.

She leaned against the door frame, watching the dance and grateful for the darkness and the shadows that hid her so well. William was laughing and dancing with another girl, and several of her suitors were searching for her, she would guess, by the way they cut through the crowds and strained their necks to see. The music was too loud, the lights too bright, and the smells of food left out too long overwhelmed her. She glanced over her shoulder at the gardens, wishing to escape into them and disappear, but it would be social suicide, even more so if she were caught even within ear shot of a male.

Stupid social rules, anyway.

She turned back to the dance and gasped as the man she thought to be Christian slid easily through the crowd, his eyes on her even in her shadowy haven. Women turned to watch him go by, twisting in the arms of their dance partners. His brown hair fell recklessly across his forehead, and as always, her hand itched to brush it away.

“Ada.” This phantom image even had his voice, and she felt her eyes swim with tears.

“I miss you,” she whispered. He was a figment of her imagination, which meant she could tell him that without risking her pride.

He smiled, barely. “I'd hoped you would say that.”

Suddenly, a horrible thought seized her and she gasped, putting a fist to her mouth. “Are you dead, Christian?”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise and he looked like the boy she remembered, more innocent. “Am I— dead? How would I be here if I am dead?”

Slowly, she lowered her hand, though it still shook. “How else would you be here with me, if you are not dead?”

He reached out slowly, his fingers warm and solid against her wrist. “If I were dead, my heart would not beat. It still beats for you, Ada.” He raised her palm to his chest where his heart was indeed still beating.

Her jaw dropped. The muscles under her hand were… not the muscles she remembered. “How did you get here? What has happened to you?”

He searched her face, his dark eyes lingering on her lips. “It doesn't matter. Dance with me, Ada?”

Her entire body trembled with wanting him, wanting to be in his arms, to feel his lips on hers once again. She could not have told him no. She nodded, slowly, and followed him onto the dance floor.

The entire room seemed to freeze. She felt William's eyes on her, but she could not look away from Christian's face. His beautiful face, so familiar and yet so different than the last time she'd seen him. He slid his arm around her waist, pulling her closer than was socially acceptable. She could feel the hard lines of his body against hers, and there were gasps from several of the older women in the room. He did not speak, but the way his eyes held hers told her everything she needed to know.

The dance ended, but Christian didn't release her. Instead he pulled her closer, lowering his head, and she knew he would kiss her, and it was scandalous and inappropriate but she didn't care. And then a shriek split the room, and Christian jerked up, the spell broken. Vivian stormed across the floor, looking for all the world like an angry demon in a fancy gown. And Christian was wrenched from her arms as one of her suitors — Lord Abbott? Anderson? — spun him around and shoved him. Women screamed. Someone, a girl in her second season, if Ada remembered correctly, fainted nearby, and Ada was vaguely aware that the man had just challenged Christian to a duel to salvage her honor. The room spun and she put a hand to her forehead, wishing for once that she could be cold, because her flames were roaring, threatening to explode out of control, and it took everything she had to rein them in.

“There will be no duels.” It was William's voice that penetrated the panic and chaos. Ada blinked, as if waking up, and could finally see clearly. She could see the pain in his face, but that was all — no anger, only a calm agony. “You…” He faced Christian, speaking directly to him. “I don't know you but I suggest you leave. Lord Abbott, you should probably go home as well, before you further embarrass yourself.”

“But Miss Aleshire's honor—”

“Is intact,” William cut him off. “And she looks as if she could use a refreshment, if anyone would be so kind.”

For the first time, Christian spoke, and Ada watched in horror as blue sparks licked at his fingers and lengthened, reaching for the fine wood floors beneath him. “I am not afraid of a duel.” His voice was odd. It was not the voice she knew, and he sounded so arrogant.