The Spark of a Feudling (2 page)

1707 — Adlington, England

“It looks like the queen is sending another commissioner to petition your father for protection.” Christian squinted, trying to see farther down the road.

“Christian, get down from that tree. You'll fall to your death.” Charity planted her hands on her hips and scowled up at him.

Ada laughed, swinging her legs from the branch she sat on, several feet higher. “You're worried for him and not me?”

“Well, for one thing, I didn't see you up there.” Charity raised a slim, pale hand to shade her silver eyes. “For another thing, no, I'm not. You never fall and if you did, Christian would catch you. And if he didn't, he'd heal you.”

Ada smiled down at her. Charity didn't have the energy to climb trees, and the sun exhausted her, but her eyes still sparkled with mischief. “Christian, you're worrying your sister. Get down.”

Christian narrowed those dark, dark eyes at her, but with a mighty sigh, he swung down. “I'm almost eighteen, you know. You can't keep telling me what to do.” Broken twigs and leaves were stuck in his chestnut hair, so he looked like an adorable druid or an elf, much younger than his almost-eighteen years.

“Ada will be telling you what to do until you are old and bedridden,” Charity teased.

Ada grinned as she climbed higher, trying to get a better view of the travelers brave enough to approach her father's gates. It did look like the queen's seal on the carriage, but she couldn't quite tell. Not that it mattered who it was. The Queen of England or the Emperor of a faraway land — her father wouldn't help them. He had no interest in being their protector or their assassin anymore, and he was tired of being caught in the crossfire.

Once he had refused to help anyone, they were attacked by everyone… until they realized the Duke of Adlington had a small daughter who could kill more quickly than they could run.

The attacks, for the most part, had stopped.

Ada swung down from the branches, more graceful than Christian, and landed lightly on her feet next to them. “Nice work. You didn't break anything this time.” Christian rolled his eyes.

Ada ignored him. “Let's run back to the house and see who it is. I couldn't get a good enough look.” She hesitated as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Charity couldn't run and Ada wouldn't leave her all by herself so far from the estate.

Charity smiled. “I'll be fine. I'm supposed to go see your father anyway.”

Ada crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly. “Well then, I'll walk you back.” She raised an eyebrow at Charity, waiting to see if her friend would argue, but she just shook her head, still smiling. “Anyway, what does my father want to see you for?”

Christian started across the meadow to the old dirt path. Ada was pretty sure it was a deer trail, but she and her friends used it regularly. “He probably wants to take her into his employ, like he did me.”

Charity and Ada followed, arms looped together. Christian and his mother had done everything they could to heal Charity. Nothing had helped and no one knew what was wrong with her. “Yes. If my father hired you to be my maid, I could keep you close and protect you all the time!” Ada exclaimed.

Christian turned, walking backward so he could watch them. “That isn't what a maid is for, Ada. She'd be working for you. Cleaning your clothes. Brushing your hair. She'd be your servant.”

How he could walk backward without tripping over the holes and roots in the ground, Ada did not understand. She was the graceful Edren, the warrior. Christian was the healer, and grace wasn't important. And yet, every move he made was fluid and beautiful. Ada flushed and looked away. Christian was her friend. She couldn't think like that about him. This coming Season she would be formally introduced into Society, and her father expected her to marry someone powerful, someone who would increase their social standing, their wealth, and their Edren magic.

Christian was beautiful and devoted and kind. But he was a Carules, and a groom in her father's stables. He was not powerful. And Ada's heart didn't care one bit.

As if reading her thoughts, Christian's lips quirked and his eyes danced. “What are you thinking, little one?”

Ada scowled at him. She hated to be reminded of how tiny she was. Charity was two years younger than she was, and several inches taller. Ada straightened her spine and tried to think tall thoughts. “I'm thinking that it would amuse me greatly if you tripped and fell.”

Charity giggled, hiding her smile behind her hand when Christian glowered at them both. He started to speak, but it was then that Ada caught sight of the smoke rising in the distance. “Oh no.” At the look on her face, Christian whirled and gasped. “Ada, go. I'll stay with Charity!”

Ada didn't need to be told twice. She squeezed Charity's arm before she let go and sprinted past Christian, urging the flames in her blood to move faster, to propel her down the trail. She darted around the trees and leaped over the gnarled roots, her heart pounding so loudly in her chest that it drowned out the sound of her breathing. They hadn't been attacked for over a year, but Ada knew the war with France — or was it Spain? Both, perhaps? — had escalated in the past months.

She ran harder.

Oh, her father had guards, powerful Edren sorcerers who were big and tough. And her mother could fight if she had to, the servants, too. But Ada was stronger than them, and she knew it. Her daddy needed her. And deep in her heart, she knew when he needed her, she would do everything in her power to be there. No matter what.

Her feet pounded up the trail as the house came into view. The estate wasn't on fire, and she breathed a little easier. She raced into the courtyard and skidded to a halt, her feet sliding on the rocks.

No, the estate wasn't on fire. The carriage was.

She could see the body burning inside. The Duke of Adlington, Richard Aleshire, stood just outside the reaching flames, watching with disinterest. Ada almost ran up to him and demanded to know what had happened, but she remembered just in time that she would probably get slapped for her insolence. Worse than that, he would be disappointed in her. And she lived her life to please him. She always had.

But Richard surprised her. “Ada, darling.” He reached an arm toward her and after a brief hesitation, she went to his side.

“What happened?” she asked, cautious, wincing a little in preparation of being slapped.

But Richard chuckled. “That man threatened our home. Our family. You.”

Ada felt her eyes widen in surprise and she peered up at Richard. How could he be at all amused by something so sinister? “Why did he do that?”

Richard sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Word has gotten out, Ada, that I have a powerful daughter. And that I myself am powerful. These non-magical creatures want us to protect them, to fight their wars. I don't wish to.”

Ada shifted her weight, uncomfortable with the thought of arguing with him. “But isn't that what we're for? To protect? Isn't that why we have our magic?” She'd moved too close to the burning carriage, and she could feel it scorching the back of her silk skirts. With a squeal, she danced away.

“That might be what lesser Edrens are for, darling. Not us. Until I find a way to benefit from a war that asks me to risk my life, I will not participate in it.”

Across the courtyard, Christian and Charity appeared. Christian's eyes immediately found her, scanning her up and down. The relief on his face when he found no injuries was clear even from as far away as Ada stood, and her heart raced.

Deliberately turning her back on the burning carriage and carnage within, she shoved the awful images from her mind like she'd had to do a thousand times before. She bit her lip and moved on to safer topics. “Daddy, were you going to talk to Charity today about being my maid?” Ada twisted a red and black lock of hair around her finger. Running so hard had loosened her ornate plait, and now rebellious curls escaped, blowing into her face.

“I hadn't planned to. Why?” His eyes followed her gaze across the courtyard to where Christian was helping Charity to a bench in the shade. Her silver eyes were dull and her skin looked gray.
I shouldn't have left her out there.

“She said you wanted to see her. I thought that was why.”

Richard opened his mouth to respond, but Vivian appeared on the balcony above them. “Oh good heavens!” she screamed. “Harrison! Davis!”

The two large Edren guards appeared at her side, and Vivian wordlessly pointed at the carriage, her mouth open in horror. Vivian was not a warrior. She didn't believe Ada should be, either. She was overly fond of saying, “A woman must have power, but a lady needn't use it.”

Ada melted away as Harrison and Davis and several more of her father's guards came to put the fire out. Steeling back to Christian's side, she sank onto the bench, taking Charity's hand. “Were you hurt?” Christian's voice was full of worry and Ada smiled up at him, her pulse leaping when his dark eyes scanned her face, landing briefly on her lips before they skipped back up to meet her gaze.

“No. My father took care of it before I got here. Apparently the man threatened him when he refused to help.”

Christian glanced at the carnage with a raised eyebrow but returned quickly to her face, like it hurt him to look away from her. “Ada, there have been rumors…”

Ada frowned. Christian, as a servant and not in elite society, heard much more about the outside world than she did. And judging from the tone of his voice, this bit of information wasn't something she wanted to know. Which meant she must know it. “Tell me.”

Charity's eyes glowed silver and Ada bit her lip, her eyes widening in alarm. “What do you see?” She leaned forward and grasped her friend's hand, trying to anchor her to this life, this time.

Christian moved closer, blocking Charity's bright eyes from anyone else. It was a dangerous time to be a seer. They were losing their sight, and their sanity. No one understood why, and none of them lived long enough to explain it. “Charity, stop it.” Christian hissed, but it was too late.

“There's a war. And… and your father…”

“Ada, I'm sorry you had to see that.” Richard strode over, and Christian, obviously panicked, smacked his sister in the shoulder. She yelped but the light in her eyes died abruptly.

“I'm fine, Daddy.” Ada glanced at him before her eyes strayed to the still-burning carriage. The messenger trapped in the inferno wasn't fine, though.

“Mistress Buttercroft. We had an appointment, did we not? I'll be waiting for you in my study.” Richard nodded curtly and turned on his heel.

They watched him as he strode away before Ada turned to Charity. “What did you see?”

“Nothing. Your father interrupted me and now I don't remember anything.” Charity frowned, fingering a loose string on her dress. “Anyway, I'd better go. He's waiting for me. Ada…” She hesitated and Ada raised an eyebrow. “Did you ask him if I — if I could be your maid?”

“I did. I'm certain that's what this is about,” Ada said, more confidently than she felt.

But it must have fooled Charity, because relief flooded her pale, delicate features before she took Christian's hand, pulling herself to her feet. “I'd better go. I'll see you both later.”

As soon as she was out of earshot, Ada whirled toward Christian, disconcerted a bit by the way his dark eyes watched her. She felt a flush trying to sneak beyond her collar and she fought to keep it from finding its way to her cheeks.
Friends
. They were friends. Good friends. “What do you think she saw? Of course there's a war. We've been fighting France and Spain for years. But what has that to do with my father?”

Christian looked uncomfortable, suddenly refusing to meet her gaze. He looked everywhere but at her.

“Christian.” She waited until he looked up, scowling. “What were these rumors you were going to tell me?”

Christian hesitated, tracing the cracks on the bench. When he still didn't speak, she continued, “Are we not best friends? Have we not saved each other from fates worse than death innumerable times? Have you not healed me every time I've been broken?” His lips quirked into the barest of grins and he nodded slowly, as if she were pulling it out of him. “Then you know you can tell me this.”

Christian looked over his shoulder toward the house, and then grabbed her hand and dragged her down the path toward their climbing trees. As it always did, her skin seemed deliciously scalded where he touched her, and her heart raced in her chest.

“You really couldn't have told me three hundred steps ago?” she gasped, panting, as he passed their trees and continued on.

“No. These rumors are grave, Ada.” He continued tugging her — across the dirt path and into the thick trees. Finally he ducked through the tangled branches, releasing her hand so she could crawl after him through the brambles.
Ada, you are far too old to be climbing trees and crawling through the mud. We're supposed to present you to Society within the year! What will people think?
The memory of her mother's voice echoed in her head as she felt the ground staining her skirts. She pushed it away. She wasn't ready to grow up, because growing up meant leaving Christian behind.

She couldn't do that.

Finally, he tumbled free of the brambles and she followed, emerging next to the tiny pond they'd found years ago. As far as Ada knew, no one in her father's employ knew of it, and she was certain her mother didn't.

“Okay. Enough, Christian, tell me.” She pushed her thick red and black curls away from her face; they were a tangled mess now.

Still Christian peered around them. Ada sighed, leaning against the tree trunk and folding her arms over her chest, glaring until he spoke.

“There are rumors, Ada.”