by Wendy Knight
“What are you going to do against three Edren warriors, little girl?” One of the men laughed, his French accent so thick she could barely understand him. He threw a quick, easy spell, and Ada stepped silently out of the way. The spell blasted past her and slammed into the wall, igniting the wood paneling. Ada glanced over her shoulder. The queen stood in an alcove, hidden from above and from both sides. The only way one could see her was from directly in front of her, but still the assassins had found her. The regal woman yanked the curtains hard and beat at the flames and had the situation not been so tense, Ada would have been impressed.
But being impressed would have to wait. “Did you see all her guards? Dead. All of them. What is it a little thing like you in a party dress thinks she can do to us?”
Ada said nothing. Slowly, she raised her hand. They were amused and unafraid. That worked well for her. One by one, she let the sparks light at her fingertips. They raised their eyebrows simultaneously, which could almost have been amusing, except that they were all still grinning like idiots. She let her hand shake as she traced the spell, which wasn’t hard, since the Queen of England stood behind her and had the power to ruin her entire family socially. Ada wasn’t daft enough to think that saving the woman’s life would make up for pretending to be a socialite and nothing more. The unspoken rule seemed to be that it was fine and well for a man to be a powerful Edren sorcerer, but not her. Not any girl.
The rule annoyed her.
Being annoyed added fire to her spell, and it flared briefly before she brought it under control. Only one man seemed to notice, and he took a cautious step back, watching her much more closely than he had before.
“Those guards you fought before were powerful.” She traced another spell, one they wouldn’t recognize, and let it burn in the air next to the first half-finished spell. The two smoldered next to each other; almost pretty in the dim light. “I would guess they’re probably the highest trained Edren sorcerers in all the land.” She dropped her hand, looking at them, feeling a feverish blush stain her neck and cheeks, one born not of embarrassment but of the excitement of a battle she knew she would win. “I am not trained by anyone but my governess and my father. And I am small.” She nodded in agreement with herself. “But there is no one like me in the world.” With both hands, she lit up the spells and shoved them hard, watching in wicked satisfaction as they shot across the space separating her from the queen’s attackers. It hit two of them before they even had a chance to raise their spark-riddled fingers. One died immediately — liriks do not wait to kill unless the caster isn’t very powerful. The other spell had been something new, sinking into the man’s skin and burning slowly, but he was powerless to put out the flames. His screams reverberated through the library, shaking the books on the shelves. The third man turned to run, but Ada moved quickly, shoving wards up to block him in. Having him effectively trapped, she turned slowly to face the queen.
Queen Anne’s face was pale, and she shook slightly. Ada, not knowing what else to do, dipped into a curtsy.
The queen laughed.
Ada raised her face. That wasn’t what she’d been expecting.
“Rise, dear girl. Oh, do rise.”
Ada rose uncertainly, tottering a bit now that the adrenaline had worn off. She was exhausted, and her legs trembled beneath her. Her beautiful white dress was torn, slightly singed, and filthy, and she’d lost one slipper in her race through the palace. Her hair was a tangled mess of knots and curls. And she stood facing the monarch of her country. My father is a traitor.
But I am not.
“That was very brave. I owe you my gratitude.” The queen nodded once, slowly, a brief smile lighting her usually somber features.
“There is still a battle raging, Your Majesty. I can help—”
“No, my guards can handle the smoke and mirrors outside. These three were unusual. I’ve never seen movements so fast. Until you.” Again, the barest hint of a smile. “But if you go outside and fight among my guards, there will be no saving your social status. Go, now, and I will share your secret with no one.”
Ada fought to keep her jaw from dropping. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” She dipped into another curtsy. Before the queen could change her mind, Ada whirled and raced from the library. Good luck getting that assassin out of my wards, she thought belatedly.
Charity waited at the base of the stairs. “You are a mess,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“Yes, well, one was not meant to battle in a ball gown. My mother?”
“Looking everywhere for you. I’ve kept her from seeing the battle in the gardens, but she will be very angry when she sees your dress.”
Vivian’s shrill shriek split the air at just that moment, and Ada cringed. “What have you done?” she bellowed.
“There was a fist fight. Over — over spots on my dance card. I got caught in the middle.” Ada tried to look horrified, but trying to hide the euphoria from her fight was difficult
Vivian didn’t notice. Her entire face lit up. “A fist fight! Over your dance card?” She clapped her hands before grabbing Ada’s shoulders and steering her toward the entry hall and the wide front doors. “We must get you out of the public eye before anyone sees you like this.”
****
As Vivian had so excitedly predicted, Ada’s dance card was full, except for one spot, which she kept open, just in case. She’d seen no sign of William, but her traitorous heart kept hoping. She danced until her feet ached and she carried on so many polite conversations that her head threatened to explode. She had just fled to the punch table when he arrived at her elbow. “You are late,” she teased.
“I am. Forgive me?” William’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “My mother decided last minute that she would like to attend this ball, and we had to scramble to get her appropriately attired in time.”
Ada smiled. “She decided last minute? Whatever changed her mind?”
“You did, I do believe.”
Ada’s smile died. “Ah. She’s afraid I will blow up the entire room? Or is it only you she worries for?”
William shook his head. “She’s afraid of no such thing. More like fascinated. As am I.”
She put her hand on her hip, fighting the flush that rose to her cheeks. “You can watch the Edrens fight any time from all over the country. I am not allowed to do it here.”
To her surprise, William threw back his head and laughed. Several people standing around them paused in their conversations to stare at him, but he seemed not to notice. “It is not just your… gift…” he dropped his voice and leaned closer so no one could overhear him. Ada’s pulse raced at his nearness. He smelled musky, and the smell made her giddy. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you are unlike the rest of the debutantes.”
“Ah. Unsophisticated? Headstrong?”
“Not boring.”
Finally at that, Ada returned his smile. She raised her dance card. “I saved you a spot, but not until the next set.”
“It is as I assumed. You have every bachelor here vying for your affections.”
Ada raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know about every bachelor…”
Again he laughed. A tall blond man who was her next partner arrived at her side. “Miss Aleshire?”
She offered him her hand and let him lead her out to the dance floor, glancing over her shoulder at William as she was whisked away. He bowed with a rueful smile. Perhaps this was what drew women to London for the social season every year. It was something like battle, but far, far more dangerous.
When it was finally time to dance with William, Ada discovered something. Dancing at a ball is much more fun when you are dancing with someone you actually like. His arm was strong at her waist, and his hand did not shake in hers as they spun easily through the room. She’d practiced dancing with Christian at home many times, but he had always been nervous and uncertain. William was confident, which made her more confident. Surprisingly, that made for a much more enjoyable experience.
“Miss Aleshire is beautiful enough that anyone with her is beautiful as well,” he said, before bowing.
Ada curtsied and watched him walk away, to dance with another girl, no doubt. She had several more men waiting for her, as well. But she admitted, in her heart, that she would like to dance every dance with William.
Chapter Eight
Christian spent his days either recovering from the duke’s latest experiments, or practicing with his new, more powerful magic. Scarlett had to re-sew all his hems because nothing fit anymore. He did not miss the horses or the pitchfork or smelling forever like hay.
He did miss Ada.
He thought time would heal his torn heart, but it did not. Instead, he stared for hours at her window, praying she would suddenly appear there. He searched the spell books Richard loaned him for a way to call her home, but there was nothing.
“Mother, we need to invent a spell,” he said over breakfast.
Scarlett looked up, worry that seemed always present in her eyes greeting him first, before her forced smile. “What spell is that, dear?”
The worry made her look old. Christian would like to erase that worry. He knew she believed if they left, their lives would be better. But they would be destitute. The duke would not give her a favorable recommendation if she left against his will.
Christian could not let that happen.
He spent as much time as possible with Scarlett, because she was the only one who seemed to soothe the angry flames running through his blood. She reminded him that he was first a healer, and second a warrior. Without her, the anger took over and he forgot.
“We should invent a spell that opens a doorway from one caster to another.”
Scarlett’s eyes lit up as her hand paused in the middle of ladling oatmeal from the large wooden bowl into two smaller ones. “That would be a very helpful spell. But I don’t know how to invent spells. Only the duke—”
“He has been training me. I have made up spells of my own.”
Scarlett’s face darkened. It was clear she was remembering the spell he’d used to torture those men. Christian cleared his throat, saying, “I thought if we took our calling spell and modified it a bit, we could open a doorway. Will you help me?”
His mother sighed, fingering the marks on the table. “No attack spells? Just this doorway?” She looked up at him, the hope in her eyes nearly extinguishing the angry flames entirely.
“Just a doorway.”
“It will take many tries. Days of work, even. And research.” Her eyes danced, the worry fading a bit. She would have been a scholar, had she been born a male. She loved books and she loved learning. He had hoped this would give her a much needed distraction. “And… you will stop your training until we are finished?” She pushed his bowl toward him and he took it eagerly. He never could seem to get enough to eat.
Christian’s body sighed in relief. The pain lately had become nearly unbearable. “Yes. I will stop for now.”
Her eyes shimmered with fresh tears. “If for now is all you will agree to, for now is what I will take.”
****
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 h
ave 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.”
