The Spark of a Feudling

by Wendy Knight

  “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 int
o 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.

  The battle was not what Ada had expected. It was chaos. She had no idea how anyone knew who not to kill. They were all Edrens, and no matter how hard she squinted, she couldn’t see discerning colors on their clothing or in their flames. So she held her place behind the knoll, wa
iting until someone could possibly tell her who she was supposed to attack.

  Harrison reappeared at her side, bruised, bloody, burned. His clothing smoked and smelled like scorched mold. She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know who to fight.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “You fight everyone.” He spread his arms wide. “They are all your enemies.”

  She straightened, putting her hands on her hips. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why are they all my enemies? I don’t know them. I don’t know why they fight. We could be fighting for the same cause!”

  “War does not make sense, little one. It is a waste of humanity.”

  Ada turned her eyes back to the battle before her, disgusted. She found the flames dying inside her, settling to warm the pit of her stomach. “Then I want no part of it. I will not kill without a reason.”

  “Have you done what you came here to do?” Davis asked from a distance away, where he leaned against a tree, sparks idly shooting from his fingertips.

  “No. But this — how am I supposed to gather knowledge there?”

  “Ah.” Harrison nodded solemnly. “You listen to the screams.”

  The screams of the dying? That’s not horrific at all.

  “You can’t hear them from here, Ada,” Davis said, striding over to them. “You have to be there. You have to look in their eyes as they die. Offer them a quick death or greater pain, and they will tell you their secrets.”

  The thought sickened her. She opened her mouth to tell them she was going home — she’d been wrong, clearly, to think she was a warrior. But a spell shot through the air, slamming into her arm, and knocked the words right out of her. She screamed in pain and whirled. The fire she thought had settled burst to life, and she felt the sparks explode from her hands. Without thinking, she sprinted up the knoll and threw herself into the battle, heedless of Harrison and Davis both yelling behind her.

  She couldn’t see who threw the spell. There was no way known to the sorcerers how to track magic traces. It didn’t matter. Any one of them could have done it. And then her eyes met the man’s across the field, his pudgy smug face. He had thrown that spell.