The Spark of a Feudling (3 page)

“Yes, you've mentioned that,” she said dryly. Christian moved around to the other side of the pond, his feet squishing in the mud as he got too close to the water. He tore a branch off the tree above his head and plucked leaves off, tossing them in the pond. “You're stalling,” Ada said, grinning. He was adorable. The sun broke through the thick branches above, catching the highlights in his dark brown hair. He knelt next to her. It was rare that they were alone — Charity was always with them.

Ada's heart pounded harder in her chest.

“You have to promise not to be angry with me, Ada Aleshire.” He leaned close, studying her face. He was nearly eighteen. A man. Her gaze dipped to his lips, and this time the flush swept up her neck and into her cheeks before she could fight it down. That slow grin lit up his face, brightening his eyes.

She cleared her throat and backed away.
Friends
, she told herself sternly. “I promise not to be angry with you, Christian Buttercroft. Unless you don't tell me right now, in which case I will be furious.” She tried to look fierce and he laughed.

“Okay, okay.” He held his hands up to ward of her attack, which was smart of him, since she was indeed considering smacking him. Instantly, though, his face sobered. “There are rumors that your father…” his voice trailed off again.

She was sure she would go mad before he ever got to the point. “Christian!”

“All right, all right! There are rumors that your father is funding the war and that he is playing all three sides — Queen Anne's, the French and Spanish, and his own,” Christian said in a rush. “And there are rumors that your father is the one stealing the seers' sight.”

Ada felt like she'd been slapped. She stumbled backward, putting a hand to her cheek, feeling the heat there and not understanding why. “How can you say such things?” she whispered.

“I didn't want to! You forced me!” Christian said, following her. He grabbed her hand, twining her fingers with his, the pad of his thumb brushing against her tender skin. “I'm sorry, Ada. I truly am. But I'm worried for you.”

“You're worried for me and yet you tell me such horrid things?” she screeched like an angry owl, wincing as she hurt her own ears.

“Ada.” Christian stopped following her backward, but he didn't let go of her hand. He straightened to his full height, several inches taller than her. “You know I would never hurt you. I—” He stopped abruptly, his eyes widening.

But she couldn't worry about what he was going to say. She jerked her hand free and whirled, gathering her skirts up and dashing into the briars. She felt them tear at her dress, her arms, hair and face, until she was smart enough to drop to her knees. Without a backward glance she crawled through the dirt.

“Ada, wait! Please, Ada, you promised!”

She muttered angrily under her breath but didn't stop.

“Ada, just think about what I said!” Christian called as she escaped the brambles and pushed to her feet. This time she did glance over her shoulder, but she couldn't see him through the thickness of the undergrowth. With a curse, she lifted her torn, now slightly bloody skirts and sprinted away.

****

“Ada! What has happened to your dress?” Vivian asked, her tone too loud and mannish to be considered lady-like as Ada stormed through the front door.

“Nothing, Mama,” Ada snapped.

Vivian followed her in a rustle of silk skirts. “You were with that boy again, weren't you? The groom?”

“He's not just a groom, mother. He's my friend. He's always been my friend.” Ada whirled on, unsure why, exactly, she was defending him when she was so furious. But defend him she would. Always. Forever.

“Well, I don't like it. You're too old to be chasing him around. He's going to ruin your reputation! Your chance at a profitable marriage.”

Ada had almost made her escape. Three more stairs to the landing, and she could escape to her room and leave her mother behind.

She wasn't fast enough.

“Ada. I do not want you alone with that boy. You will have a proper chaperone at all times or you will stay away from him. Is that clear?”

Ada whirled on her mother, sparks exploding from her fingertips. The fear she saw in her mother's eyes shocked her, and the sparks died abruptly. “Fine.” She bit the word off before grabbing up her torn skirts and sprinting up the last steps.

Safely in her room, she closed the door and leaned against it, one hand on her heart. Her own mother was afraid of her? She was attacked by a myriad of emotions — guilt, fear… and power. A small part of her had liked causing that fear.

“I'm a monster.”

“Brilliant, Christian.” He'd lost her. “Why did you open your big mouth anyway?” Christian kicked at the ground, watching the dirt clods tumble into the pond. He could go after her, but he'd seen the fury in her eyes. She'd been angry before, but not like this. “You insulted her father, you oaf. You know how she idolizes him!” Christian was aware that he was having a conversation, out loud, with himself. He didn't care. With a sigh, he crawled through the brambles, leaving their little pond behind.

He approached the courtyard, hoping she'd be waiting near their bench, but she wasn't. His eyes, with a will of their own, looked to her balcony, but the windows were shut tight and the curtains drawn. His heart hammered in his chest. He couldn't lose her. Life would not be worth living without her.

His mother, Scarlett, was in their little cottage when he slouched through the door. She gave him a brief look before her eyes saddened. “You and Ada had a fight.” Although his mother didn't have Charity's gift of sight, she still seemed to know things. “It's mother's intuition,” she murmured, stroking his dark hair back from his forehead. “What happened?”

“I tried to tell her the rumors about His Grace.”

Scarlett sat back, pursing her lips. “She will never listen to a word against her father, Christian, you know that.”

“I thought she would listen to me. I thought…”
I thought she loved me.
“Where is Charity?” he asked instead.

“She hasn't returned from her appointment with the duke.” Scarlett's eyes flicked uneasily out the window, watching the big house. Scarlett worried about Charity, with her gift of sight and the attacks on seers, but they had lived under the duke's protection all these years. If the rumors were true and His Grace was the one torturing the seers, he had yet to turn his attention on Charity.

Even still, Christian could see the barely veiled and quickly growing panic flitting across her face.

“She'll be fine, mother.” Christian patted her hand. “I'll go look for her if you'd like.”
And hopefully I'll meet Ada along the way. Beg her to forgive me.
He swallowed, hard, nearly choking himself on his want of her.

Scarlett opened her mouth as if to say something, but instead the sadness in her eyes overwhelmed her and she brushed her palm against his face. “Thank you, Christian.”

Christian turned and hurried out, glancing again up at Ada's window. Still nothing. Heaving a disappointed sigh, he continued in to the main house, looking for Charity. “Excuse me, miss. Have you seen my sister?” he asked Mrs. Kent, the head maid.

“She's still in a meeting.” Mrs. Kent sniffed, because household staff was far above speaking to the lowly grooms.

Christian rolled his eyes. “Do you have any idea when she'll be done?” Inexplicable worry for his sister knotted his stomach.

“No. Now off with you. I have work to do.”

Christian turned to go, his head down like a kicked dog.

“Mr. Buttercroft.”

At her sweet voice, his heart leaped, and he could feel her standing behind him. He spun, plastering a repentant look on his face. Ada glanced quickly at Mrs. Kent before taking his arm. “Walk with me.”

Mrs. Kent watched them as they wandered away, but she had no reason to follow them so they were able to escape her hawk-like stare. Christian opened his mouth, ready to apologize, but she cut him off.

“I'm sorry, Christian. I broke my promise.”

“No, Ada, I—”

“And I've been thinking.” She lowered her voice, glancing over her shoulder to be sure there was no one within hearing distance. He watched the light catch her hair, turning the red streaks in it to sparkling flames. “My father has been acting suspiciously. I need to know for myself what's going on.”

Christian froze in his steps, bringing the appearance of their casual conversation to a halt with him. “What do you mean you have to know for yourself?” He knew Ada well. He memorized her, studying her every emotion like it was a lifeline. And he prayed that he was wrong when he knew exactly what she meant.

“I must sneak out. There is bound to be retribution over this.” She waved her hand at the courtyard and frowned. “And I'm going to be in on that retribution.” At the stares of the staff, Ada pulled on his arm and they resumed their walk, out the front door and toward the garden. It was improper for them to walk alone, even in the daylight, but they'd been raised together and no one had ever given their relationship any thought. Except Christian. He'd given it
much
thought.

“Ada,” he said through clenched teeth. “You are not a trained warrior.” She opened her mouth to object but he put a finger to her lips, biting the inside of his cheek at their exquisite softness. “Even if you were a trained warrior, you are highly recognizable. And you would be targeted.” His hand trailed down her neck to the soft red and black curl that had escaped her chignon.

Her eyes narrowed. “Then I'll wear my cape. I'm going, Christian, with or without your help.” Those big brown eyes softened, pleading, “But I'd survive much better if I have you to heal me.”

How could he say no? He would hate himself for this, he would hate himself for this for every second of the rest of his life, and all he could do is beg for a short one.

“I will always be there to heal you, Ada.
Always
. Forever.”

****

Christian was uncertain. Ada could tell even with all her planning that he still thought it was a bad idea. She muttered unintelligibly, kicking at her skirts. “It
is
a bad idea. I could die.” Somehow, her words had the opposite effect of their intent, and a thrill raced through her blood, like the flames roiling through her were waking up. She felt a hunger she'd never felt before, and the sparks shooting from her fingertips were hard to extinguish. She'd fought to defend her home before, but never against more than a few attackers, and her father and the Governess Buttercroft had been there, as well as his many powerful guards. This time, she was going on the offensive — as an Edren should. Carules were defensive warriors. Their magic was healing, and wards and traps were their specialty. They could
do
offensive spells, but not as powerfully as an Edren. But at the same time, Edrens weren't healers. They could do it, but not well. And rarely could they do a
saldepement
spell. Edrens and Carules worked together — as it was intended.

Even still, Governess Buttercroft was powerful, even with Edren spells. Christian also had an affinity for them, but he didn't crave the battle like Ada did. He didn't understand why she was so desperate to get out there and fight. He worried about her safety.

Which was why she had to sneak out.

She dragged her heavy winter cloak from the back of her armoire. Usually she would ask her maid to get it, but according to Vivian, Charity had just been given the position. And Ada hadn't seen her since she left for her meeting with the duke.

The cloak had been a gift from her mother. It was an odd gift, because it was very dark and heavy, not the usual bright silks Vivian usually gave her, and Ada hadn't known how to respond at the time. Now she breathed a heavy, “Thank you, Mama,” as she swirled it across her shoulders. The heavy folds of the hood would hide her well. If she'd planned this more in advance, she would have also convinced Christian to give her pants, so she wouldn't be impeded by her skirts. But
that
was a conversation that made her blush furiously. No matter how hard she tried to deny it, Christian was not just the boy she had grown up with anymore.

He was so, so much more.

She squeaked at the thought and pushed it away, down deep. She and Christian couldn't be together, and she knew that. Society wouldn't allow it. Even the Edren and Carules society wouldn't allow it. It wasn't meant to be.

Before her heart could break, she moved to the window and pushed open the shutters. It was a rather long drop to the ground. She swallowed. Spells, fire, sparks. She could handle those. Of heights, she was not fond. But there was no way around it. She tucked her skirts into her boots so they wouldn't trip her and swung her leg over the railing. She shimmied down as far as she could, finally dropping to hang by her hands.

“Ada? What are you doing?”

Ada screamed and fell to the ground, landing in a heap at Charity's feet. “Good gracious, Charity! You scared the life right out of me!”

In the moonlight, Charity looked even more pale and sickly than usual. She held a hand out, helping Ada to her feet, and Ada couldn't help but feel her tremble. “Where have you been all day?” Ada asked, slipping her arm around Charity's waist to lend support.

“I don't… I don't remember,” Charity whispered.

Oh dear.
“Let's get you back to your mother. She'll know what to do. Christian can heal you.”

Charity's eyes glowed silver. “I don't think he can this time, Ada. I don't think anyone can.”

Ada gave her a sharp look, but Charity didn't meet her eyes. In fact, she wasn't entirely positive Charity could see at all. She seemed to be locked in a vision. “Charity, Charity, look at me.” Ada put both hands on Charity's shoulders and gave her a gentle shake, but Charity nearly fell without Ada's arm holding her up. “This is so very bad.” Ada slid her arm again around her friend's waist and mostly carried her across the moonlit courtyard. Her escape through the darkness would have to wait — she knew her father's guards were somewhere nearby, watching.

She banged on Governess Buttercroft's door, acknowledging somewhere in the back of her mind that she wasn't behaving like a lady at all. The door swung open and Christian raised the candle high. “Thank goodness. We've been looking everywhere for you!” He scooped Charity up and carried her inside. Uncertain what else to do, Ada followed him, shutting the door behind her.

“Where did you find her?”

“Under my balcony.” Ada brushed past him, throwing Charity's quilt back as he laid his sister on the mattress. She helped pull off Charity's shoes and tucked her in. “Can you heal her? She doesn't seem able to escape from this vision.”

Christian's hands lit, warm blue light flooding from his palms as he dragged his hands through the air above Charity's body. “There's… there's nothing to heal.” The sparks died abruptly from his hands as he raised wide eyes at Ada.

“Where is your mother? She'll know what to do.” Ada left the room to search for the governess, but Christian's voice followed her.

“She isn't here. She's out there looking for Charity. I'll call for her.”

Ada paused. Call her? This was something she'd never heard of, and she hurried back to Christian's side to watch him burn a dull blue flourish into the air. He waited, pacing through the small room, and then did it again.

This time, an answering flourish appeared in the air before them. Christian nodded and glanced at Ada. “She'll be here soon.”

“What did you just do?” Ada asked. She'd never seen anything like it.

“We made it up. My spell appears in front of her and she knows I need her. Her spell returns to show that she's heard me.”

Ada felt her eyebrows rise. Carules could invent spells, too. She'd never realized…

“We found her,” Christian said as Scarlett strode through. His voice broke. “But something is wrong. I can't heal her.”

She pushed him aside and leaned over Charity, turning her daughter's slender face toward her to peer into her eyes. “Charity,” she said as her hands smoothed damp hair away from her daughter's face. “Charity, can you hear me?”

“I can hear you Mama, but I can't see.” It was the first time Charity had spoken since the courtyard, and her voice was even weaker than before.

“What happened to her?” Ada asked hoarsely, clutching at her throat.

Christian said nothing, staring at his sister, but Ada's comment seemed to remind the governess that Ada was still in the room. She straightened abruptly. “Ada, you had a… mission… for this evening. Am I correct? Perhaps you should still pursue that.”

Ah, she was being dismissed. Ada frowned. “But Charity might — I might be able to help. I can get my father—”

Governess Buttercroft's face paled and she spun on Ada. “No. We don't need your father. He's an Edren, as are you. This is beyond either of you.” With firm hands, she pushed Ada toward the door. “You have your own job to do tonight, Ada. And it is an important one. Seek it.”

Ada looked up at her, bewildered in her hurt. The governess had been more of a mother to her than Vivian ever had, and her words cut deep. But the woman wasn't looking at her, instead her eyes were on Charity — her real daughter. Ada clenched her teeth, jerking away from her hands. “I will.” With steely determination, she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head. “But not out the front door. Do you think I'm daft?” She dodged around her governess and escaped into the back of the house, slipping out Christian's window. It was at ground level and much easier to escape from than hers was.

“No, Ada. I do not think you are daft at all. I expect great things from you.” She heard Charity's mother's voice follow her into the darkness. Blinking in confusion, Ada backed away from the house, dissolving into the shadows of the trees. She had hoped Christian would accompany her. But he couldn't leave Charity. If she was going, it would be alone. Then she whirled and fled.

She'd never gone far from the estate by herself, and never on foot. The darkness seemed to reach out with icy fingers, clutching at her cloak, tearing at her skin. She didn't slow. When she had tricked, threatened, and bullied Harrison into telling her where the battle was, she hadn't thought about how to actually get there. “Foolish, foolish girl,” she muttered as she ripped her hair free from yet another branch.

“I expected you a while ago, little one.”

Ada screamed, leaping backward. Sparks lit at her fingertips, but it was only Harrison and Davis, her father's two most powerful guards. Big and black, they hid well in the shadows, except for the white of their teeth when they laughed at her. “What are you doing here?” She tried, and failed, to sound braver than she felt.

“If you think we're letting you go to this battle alone, you truly have lost your mind.” Davis's low voice rumbled with the wind.

“But my father won't let me go—”

“Your father doesn't need to know,” Harrison said. “But you will miss it all if you don't hurry.”

Ada narrowed her eyes, watching them both suspiciously. “Why haven't you told on me?”

She could see them exchange a glance in the darkness. “That is a good question, little one. A question to which we aren't entirely sure of the answer.”

“You're saying my father didn't send you to bring me back? He doesn't even know you're here?”

“No, little one.” When going into battle, it wasn't particularly encouraging to be called “Little One”, but it had been everyone's nickname for her since she was small, and since Harrison was very large, she really couldn't argue with him.

“We'll have to run. Are you up for it?” Davis asked.

I'm going into battle with these two. I'm really doing this.
Ada gulped. “Yes.”

She'd never had to run long distances before. They had horses and carriages for that. The extent of her running had been playing tag with Christian and Charity, and that pastime was hardly acceptable now. It wasn't long before she found herself tired, and the pain in her side made her bend awkwardly. Harrison slowed, falling into pace beside her. “Let the flames loose, girl. Let them feed you.”

“Let… the what?” she panted.

Davis chuckled ahead of them. “They're there. Let them loose.”

Ada slowed, leaning against a tree as she gasped for breath.
They're there…
she could feel them, the sparkly red flames that shot from her fingers whenever she was attacked. But she hadn't the slightest idea how she was supposed to let them loose. She turned her back on both the guards, breathing hard, trying to figure out how to free the flames. She thought back to every time they'd erupted without her calling them — back to the very first time when Charity was in trouble. Something had torn, then.

“That is the band. Untie it.” Somehow, Harrison could read her thoughts. She clenched her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut tight, searching. It was a little thing, so small she almost missed it, holding the fury of her power in check. Just the smallest little knot of fear. “Let it go,” she whispered. The flames, hungry, exploded through, shooting from her fingertips, igniting the dried grass at her feet.

Davis burst out laughing, stomping the flames into submission. “There, little one.
Now
we run.”

It was like flying, sprinting through the forest without the fear to hold her back. She didn't tire. The pain didn't return to her side. And her short little legs had no problem keeping up with the guards racing ahead of her. Once or twice, she even caught herself laughing — hysterical, furious, terrifying laughter — and she remembered the madness when she'd wanted to attack her mother. But this time, she welcomed the monster instead of fearing it.

Ada was meant to be a warrior. This was her destiny.

Harrison slowed, putting a hand out to catch her as she flew by him. “Ooomph,” she gasped as he swung her around. He chuckled.

“We never go racing into a battle. Survey the scene first. See which side is winning. Listen to the whispers.”

She blinked owlishly at him in the moonlight. “The whispers?”

Davis appeared like a wraith on her left. “That's what you're here for, isn't it? To learn something about your father?”

How on earth these two men knew her so well, she would never understand. She hadn't spent much time with them. Perhaps they were seers, like Charity? She squinted at them, looking for the tell-tale signs — glowing eyes, sallow skin. There was nothing like that.

“I want to know why we're being attacked,” she said firmly. “I want to know if he is as innocent as he says, or if he killed that man…” She swallowed hard. “If he killed that man just for being the messenger. If he's funding the war.”

Harrison and Davis exchanged a look over her head. Ada looked from one to the other as she said, “You know already, don't you?” The knowledge made her tired.

“We only know the rumors. What gain could he possibly have from encouraging a war that he refuses to be a part of?” Davis answered her.

“I suppose that's what we're here to find out. Are we going to fight or sit here talking all night like chickens?”

Harrison chuckled again. “Chickens, little one, do not talk.”

Without another word, he straightened and leaped over the rise, barreling into the fight. Harrison's battle tactics were different than most Edren warriors. He preferred a much more physical approach, tackling and punching everything in his way, using his flames only when someone tried to get away.

Davis grinned recklessly and also left her, sprinting across the field, ducking through trees. His method was to race through the tangle of men on the field and watch them kill each other in an attempt to catch him. He made a mockery of everyone else on the field.