by Wendy Knight
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, y
ou 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.
The rest of the room recoiled in horror, as if Christian would explode and kill them all. And honestly, Ada wasn’t positive he wouldn’t. She did not recognize this man in front of her. Would she have to fight the boy she’d loved her entire life to protect these people she didn’t even know? That is the duty of an Edren.
“No one need die tonight,” William said. He alone stood between Christian and the rest of the room — he hadn’t backed away even one step. You are a brave fool, Mr. Langley.
“Christian,” Ada whispered, her voice cracking. “Please don’t do this.”
Her voice seemed to trigger something in him, and the tight set of his shoulders relaxed. He turned on his heel toward her, studying her for several seconds, his expression wholly unreadable. His face, which she’d always been able to read so easily, was closed to her. Without looking at anyone else in the room, he brushed by her and stormed out of the doors leading to the balcony. Only Ada had heard his parting words.
“I’ll be in the gardens at midnight.”
****
“We are ruined,” Vivian wailed as they escaped to their carriage and the horses raced them toward the townhome. “No one will invite us to anything ever again. We are social lepers.” Turning wild eyes on Ada, she screamed, “Who will want you now?”
Ada barely heard her, despite the sheer volume at which Vivian screeched. She was lost in her own thoughts. What had happened to the boy she loved? When had he become frightening and cold? How could one man change so much over the course of a few months?
“We will have to return to Adlington. In shame.” Vivian broke down in sobs and Ada watched her without pity. She didn’t like her mother. The knowledge should have surprised her, but it didn’t. She was just too tired to deny it any longer. Where she had always craved her father’s affection and his pride, she hadn’t craved anything at all from Vivian — except peace.
“No one will want me, Mother. So all these years, you have been right.”
Vivian wailed harder. Disgusted, Ada turned and stared out the carriage window.
I will be in the garden at midnight.
Once home, Vivian called for a doctor, certain her heart was broken. The doctor gave her something to help her sleep and left, clucking his tongue. Ada sat in the parlor and watched him go. “There will be no more callers, Charity. Thank goodness.”
Charity sat across from her. “You seem relieved.”
“I am.” Except for William. I will miss William. “But this means we will return home. I will have to come up with a new plan to protect you.”
Charity paled and abruptly changed the subject, a tactic that Ada didn’t miss. “Tell me about my brother.”
“He is different, as I said. Angry. And bigger.” She frowned. “How is that possible?”
Charity looked down, trailing her fingers across the soft velvet cushions. Ada noticed her long, pale fingers shaking. “He asked me to meet him in the gardens at midnight.”
Charity looked up, eyes widening. “What did you say?”
“I didn’t get a chance to say anything. I don’t even know which gardens he meant.” Suddenly Ada was overwhelmed with exhaustion. “And… he frightened me, Charity. He is not the Christian I know.”
Charity bit the inside of her cheek, as if reigning in some inner turmoil. “But you are a powerful Edren, Ada. What could he do, against you?”
Ada stared out the window into the darkness. “I could be the most powerful sorceress in the world, and it would mean nothing. I cannot fight him, Charity.”
Charity nodded, relief flooding her delicate features. “I believe it wise that you not go. If your reputation was not ruined already, it would be after a midnight meeting with a dangerous stranger.”
“It doesn’t matter. My mother says no one will want me. I will be free to live my life in Adlington. I will be a warrior, as I was meant to be. I will never set foot in London again.”
Charity gasped, raising a hand to her mouth. “You can’t really mean that — that you will live your life alone?”
Ada got up and wandered across the room, trailing her hand across the piano keys, leaning to smell the fresh flowers delivered that morning by one of her suitors. What an incredibly long day it had been. The clock on the wall struck the eleventh hour, its gong echoing over and over again through the house. “I do mean it. My heart will always belong to Christian. I cannot love another.” Turning with a forced smile, she said, “Anyway, I am a powerful Edren. I was not meant to be a socialite or someone’s docile wife. I am meant to be a warrior. And I am a tired warrior. Shall we go to bed?”
Ada lay very still until Charity’s breathing evened and she was certain her friend slept. Rising in the darkness, she tugged on a simple day dress and found her cloak — until now she’d had no need of it. Then she stole silently through the house and escaped onto the street. Behind her, the clock started ringing in the new day.
Her slippers made the barest hint of a sound as she ran through the city, back to the grand house where the party had been held. It had taken the carriage nearly an hour to get there, but she made it in less than a quarter of that. Even so, she was afraid he would be gone, and even if he wasn’t gone, the gardens were expansive and there was an intricate maze in the center.
She would never understand the British fascination with mazes.
But of course, that’s where her heart pulled her, straight to the maze. She wandered for an eternity, searching, not daring to call out. She wasn’t even certain she was in the right gardens until she caught the barest hint of his scent.
“I wondered if you would come.”
“I almost didn’t. You have changed, Christian Buttercroft.” In the darkness, she couldn’t see the hard lines of his face or the anger in his beautiful brown eyes she remembered so well.
“I’m glad you did.”
She could hear the vulnerability in his voice and she wanted to hold him. To brush the reckless brown hair away from his forehead. Her fear faded, and he was her Christian once again. Always. Forever.
“What happened to you, Christian?”
“You have changed as much as I, Ada. You’ve become their puppet. Small, frightened, needing someone to protect you.”
“William was protecting you, if I recall. Or he thought he was.”
“William, is it?” Christian’s voice darkened and she moved backward, the thorns in the rosebushes catching at her cloak. “He saw the sparks. He knows I’m a sorcerer. They all do.”
“Yes, but he is under the apparently mistaken impression that blue flames mean you’re a healer. When did that change, Christian? When did I lose my healer?”
“When you left him for London.”
“I left you to protect your sister!” she cried, feeling the flames wake up in her blood as anger coursed through her.
“And yet I come here to find her alone and you being fought over by several men.” Christian moved, advancing on her slowly. She refused to back away any further.
She planted her hands on her hips and raised her chin. “Yes, Christian, because it was a ball. And your sister is alone but she’s better. There have been no attacks since we left Adlington.”
This gave him pause. “No more attacks?” The kind boy she remembered was still there, in the hopefulness she could hear in his voice. She strained her eyes against the darkness, longing to see his face.
“Not one.”
He raised his hand, she could just see the shadow of movement in the dar
k, and stepped closer. “Ada, I—I’m sorry.” He dropped his head to his chest and lowered his hand.
“You hurt me, Christian.” I felt like my heart cracked at least once for every look we ever shared.
He raised his hand again, this time stepping close enough that his knuckles just brushed her cheek. “I never wanted to hurt you. I love you, Ada, more than anything.”
Without warning, she pulled his head down to hers, rising on her toes to meet his lips. His arms snaked around her waist and pulled her tight, so tight against him. The flames in her blood awoke, rushing through her veins and she could feel the hard lines of him against her soft curves. His lips left her mouth and moved to her jaw, his hands rubbing restlessly up and down her back. One slid up to cup the back of her neck, holding her there against him, his forearm pushing her even closer to his chest. He trailed kisses down her neck, hungry and demanding. “Christian,” she whispered, caution finding its way through the haze brought on by his kisses.
He ignored her, his free hand trailing up her rib cage, groping, bruising, and she gasped and tried to push him away. “Christian, stop!”
He growled, pushing her back into the hedge. The thorns tore at her cloak and her hair, his embrace like iron; unyielding. He was so strong, so solid. Fear took hold, real fear, and her flames responded. Sparks lit from her fingers and she shoved him, hard this time with her sorceress strength, blackening his shirt where her palms hit. His grip broke and he stumbled back.
“What—” He swore.
“Do not touch me, Christian Buttercroft.” She glared at him fiercely, and by the light from her flames she could see the cold anger dying slowly in his eyes.
“Ada, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Christian ran a hand over his face and through his hair, turning away. His breath still came in ragged gasps, but hers seemed frozen in her throat.
“I must go. Charity will wake soon,” Ada whispered, knowing he could hear the pain in her voice by the way his shoulders hunched at her words, protecting his heart. It wasn’t true, though; the sun wouldn’t rise and chase away the night for several hours yet.
