by H G Lynch
“There is?” I tried not to beam like a moron. “What is it?”
Adam winked charmingly, making my heart skip a beat. “It’s a secret,” he murmured, a cheeky grin spreading across his face.
He knocked on the side of the coach, and I heard Nicholas’s voice as he spoke to the horses. We began to move, the wooden wheels rattling along the road, and the horses letting out an occasional snort or whinny.
During the journey, we spoke about mundane things – the weather, the latest news from England, the condition of the old church bell tower. Nothing of any real importance, but it was nice just to talk.
We pulled to a halt, and the carriage door swung open. The Prince motioned for me to leave first, so I took the footman’s hand as I stepped down from the coach. Adam followed behind me, adjusting his jacket.
The sun was still setting slowly, so the sky was a mix of hot reds and oranges, and cool night-time blues. The wind here was dampened by the surrounding trees, but the air still held the cold bite of coming winter.
Adam cleared his throat and held out his elbow. “If you would do me the honour, Mademoiselle.”
Repressing a smile, I laid my hand in the crook of his arm. “Of course, Monsieur. The honour is all yours,” I quipped.
At that, Adam tipped his head back and laughed melodically. “I like that – a sense of humour!”
I grinned. My mother had always told me my wit and sharp tongue would get me in trouble one day. Apparently that day was not today.
I was still beaming when we walked into the ornate foyer. Adam led me. Not down the hall like the other night, but instead up the grand staircase. We swept down a long hallway to the left, past closed doors and elegant portraits of noblemen and women.
Finally, we came to a halt in front of a set of arched double doors. Adam glanced at me – I would have said he was nervous if he was any other man. I raised my eyebrows expectantly, waiting. My smile seemed to give him conviction, and he pushed open one of the doors.
At first, I was blinded by daylight. I shielded my eyes, blinking, and slowly the room became clear in front of me.
Crisp daylight poured in through huge, arched windows and a set of glass doors beyond which I could see the railing of a balcony. Red velvet curtains lined the windows and were bound with golden rope. A massive, ornate chandelier hung ominously over a polished wooden floor.
It was a glorious ballroom, bigger than any room I’d ever seen. You could have fit nearly a hundred people in it, I was certain.
“Wow, this is...” I was still searching for the right word in my mind when I saw one of the curtains by the far end twitching. I gasped, grasping Adam’s hand a little too tight.
The curtain fell back as a short, round, old woman in a maid’s uniform stepped out from behind it. She was waving a feather duster rapidly over the golden dado rail, and the faint sound of her pleasant humming echoed over to us through the great room.
Adam laughed. “Mrs Potts! What on earth are you doing?”
The little old woman turned, placing her hands on her wide hips, the duster sticking up like a misplaced tail. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m cleaning, Dear!”
I immediately liked her. Judging by Adam’s fond expression, he had a long relationship with the old woman. He shook his head with false exasperation as the maid walked toward us, brandishing her feather duster.
“You didn’t tell me we had a guest! I haven’t cleaned the dining room. The cutlery hasn’t been polished. Oh, dear,” she fretted, stopping in front of me and giving me a quick, efficient once-over.
“Aren’t you lovely, Darling? What’s your name?” she asked, briskly reaching out to straighten the ribbon bow at my waist. She reminded me of my own grandmother – Nana was almost eighty but her hands were as steady as stone. She was a healer who used the innate therapeutic properties of plants like bark and aloe along, with a little bit of magic, to cure everything from chicken pox to liver failure.
“Bon soir. Je m’appelle Agatha.” I curtsied as best I could, just thankful not to trip on my skirts.
Mrs Potts smiled kindly. “Well, Mademoiselle Agatha, you can call me Mrs Potts. Everyone here does. And I hope this brute has been treating you well.”
Brute? Adam? I remembered the vicious gleam in his eyes as he held that robber against the wall, and my mouth went dry.
Seeming to notice my hesitation, Mrs Potts fluttered her hands. “Oh, no, don’t worry, Dear. I just mean, he’s got a temper on him.”
Adam sighed heavily next to me. “Mrs Potts...”
She flicked her duster at him. “Now, now, I’m not going to scare her away, Dear. I’m just letting her know what she’ll have to live with.”
Ducking me head, I blushed. Live with? I wasn’t going to live with Adam...he wouldn’t ask me that, would he? I had my Mama to look after. I couldn’t just up and leave her.
As if my sudden resistance was obvious, Adam made a frustrated sound, and when I chanced a glance at him, I realised he was blushing too. Even on the Prince, the red stain on his cheeks looked funny. “Bea-”
A flash of feathers as Mrs Potts whipped her duster at his head. “Don’t you call me by my Christian name, little Prince. I changed your nappies when you were a baby, I taught you how to spell your own name, I read you bedtime stories every night. Don’t you go thinking that just because you got taller than me, I won’t spank you with this duster.”
The old woman subsided, straightening her maid cap. Adam’s expression was torn between embarrassment and laughter. Mrs Potts’ looked righteous, her chin raised and a small smile on her mouth that I had a feeling she was trying very poorly to hide.
When Adam turned, I realised why. There was a feather from the duster stuck in his hair, sticking straight up from behind his ear. I covered my mouth quickly to smother my laughter.
Obviously, I didn’t do a very good job because Adam gave me a droll look. “What’s so funny?”
Following my line of vision, he lifted a hand to his ear and plucked out the feather. Holding it in front of his face, he twirled it in his fingers. He laughed softly, then raised his eyes to mine, and I saw a softness there that made me forget about the violence he’d had in his gaze earlier. He looked...happy.
Mrs Potts cleared her throat quietly, subtly interrupting the moment. “I’ll go get the matches to light the chandelier. You can’t dance in the dark.” She shuffled away quickly, leaving Adam and I alone.
Her words made me realise, though, that it was getting dark. The sun had gone down low enough so that the light no longer shone in my eyes.
Adam’s smile faded a little. “I’d better lower the chandelier, or she’ll have at me with that duster again,” he said as he walked to one of the curtains.
He swept it aside, unveiling a large metal hook around which the chain hanging the chandelier was wrapped. Unravelling the chain, Adam slowly lowered the chandelier to the floor, and I realised how big it was – it was a large, round metal hoop, the diameter had to be at least five feet across, and the wheel was lined with dozens of thick, white candles. Chains of tiny crystals dangled from underneath, sprawling out on the floor like broken spider legs.
Mrs Potts returned, her humming entering the room before her. In her hand, she held a large box of matches, and in the other, a long matchstick which she struck the head of against the flint on the box. Bending carefully, she began to light the candles on the chandelier – one at a time.
It would take forever to light all of those candles...
I bit my lip nervously, deciding. I cast a glance at Adam, who was still securing the chain for the chandelier. Then Mrs Potts whispered something under her breath that was not at all polite in company. She’d dropped the box of matches, scattering them across the floor.
Quickly, I bent to help pick them up, grabbing a handful before Mrs Potts shooed me away. “No, no, you’re our guest. You shouldn’t be cleaning up. Please, let me.”
Straightening, I wiped down my dress
. “I shall light the candles then. It will take less time if I do this while you pick up the matches,” I added to keep her from objecting further.
Although she looked a little concerned, Mrs Potts agreed. While she bent down to pick up the spilled matches, I took another glance at Adam to make sure he wasn’t looking and then flicked my fingers at the chandelier. I felt the magic surge out of my fingertips, warm and tingly.
There was an almost-inaudible whoomph sound as every candle on the chandelier spontaneously lit itself. The blast of sudden light startled Mrs Potts, who straightened up abruptly, dropping some of the matches she’d just picked up.
“What...how did...” she spluttered.
I held up a lit match. “I’m just really quick.”
The old woman laughed. “I’ll say you are! If you ever want a job as a maid, I’d be happy to have you on my team!”
I smiled, feeling only a little guilty about lying. The chandelier chain creaked as Adam began hoisting it back into place above the ballroom floor. The room filled with the warm, flickering light of the candles.
“Would you care to dance?” Adam’s voice came from so close behind me that I jumped.
My hand trembled as I placed it in his outstretched one, his long fingers closing firmly over mine. His other hand found my waist, and I could feel the warmth of his touch through the satin of my dress.
Music, soft and classical, poured into the room through invisible speakers. Though I wasn’t noble, I knew how to dance, and together we flowed around the room in a cloud of joy and music.
By the time the song lulled to an end, I was light-headed and giggly. I felt tipsy and bold, as Adam’s eyes drifted to my lips, and then lower, to where my breasts were pushed up by a corset. “Agatha...” he murmured, his voice rough.
His hands gripped my waist tightly, almost too tight. He bent his head to skim his mouth across my cheek, and my eyes fluttered shut. My heart galloped like a stallion. “Y-yes, Your Highness?” I whispered, my voice trembling.
He huffed into my neck, his breath warm on my skin. “Don’t call me that, not now. Right now, I’m not a Prince – I’m just a man falling in love with a beautiful woman.”
My breath caught in my throat, an explosion of joy going off behind my breast bone. Stars swam through my mind, images of a hopeful future with feasts and lush balls and this handsome man on my arm at every one.
“I...” I couldn’t find the words.
“Shh,” he whispered, his lips tracing the line of my jaw. “You don’t have to say a word. Just let me kiss you, Agatha.”
I did. Of course I did. I let him tilt my chin up and claim my mouth with his.
He clutched me close to his body as his tongue danced with mine as expertly as he’d waltz with me around the ballroom, leaving me breathless and hot. My knees felt weak, only his strong arms keeping me from collapsing into a puddle on the floor.
Then, just as I thought I might burn up from the inside out, there was a roar and a blast of heat form above that startled us apart. I knew immediately what it was – the candles on the chandelier were blazing as if someone had tossed kerosene on them, and I cursed myself for being so reckless. My emotions were triggering my magic to do wild things, and if I wasn’t careful, I could burn this entire palace down.
Quickly, I drew back my power and the candles dimmed to bare flickers.
Breathing heavily, Adam stared at the chandelier with distant eyes. His mind was not entirely on the candles, I could tell, but for that I was thankful. His confusion did not bear suspicion, and he murmured almost to himself, “Must have been a draught of wind. Mrs Potts always leaves the kitchen windows open...”
“Yes,” I agreed hurriedly. “Must have been the wind.”
The panic in my voice drew his attention, and Adam smiled at me reassuringly. “Everything is alright, mon amour. Let us go somewhere...cosier.”
Glad to leave the open flames behind, I let Adam lead me out of the ballroom and down a long hallway lined with tiny, elegant tables, each holding a crystal vase of fresh red roses. Their colour was so vibrant I stopped to touch the petals of one, just to see if the crimson came away on my fingers like paint.
But no, the flowers were real and the petals soft as peach skin. Their perfume was heady and lovely on my fingertips.
Amused by my awe, Adam plucked the rose I’d touched from the dozens in the vase, and twirled it by the stem, somehow avoiding the sharp thorns. “It’s almost as beautiful as you,” he said quietly, admiring the lush bloom.
My cheeks warmed with a blush. Adam held out the rose to me. “Keep it.”
I took it carefully, but not carefully enough. A thorn caught the tip of my index finger, and I gasped at the sharp sting.
Adam held out his hand. “Let me see.”
I switched the rose to my other hand, managing to avoid nicking myself again, and held out my finger for him to see. A single, round drop of blood, as crimson as the rose, welled up on my skin.
Pulling out a handkerchief from his breast pocket, Adam dabbed at the blood. “Beautiful things always come with a sharp edge,” he mused, his eyes sparkling.
I knew he was not talking of the rose, but I could not tell if he was speaking of me or of himself. I had seen his sharp edge, when he had fought off the man who’d tried to mug me. I wasn’t afraid of him, of any side of him.
I trusted Adam, more than I had ever trusted any man. Wasn’t that what love was about?
Chapter Four
After my small injury with the rose, Adam had declared that perhaps I ought to return home due to the late hour. Though I was disappointed to leave him, I knew he was right.
He kissed me chastely on the porch of the palace, seeing me into the carriage like a true gentleman. So overwhelmed with the evenings events, I didn’t notice who was driving the carriage.
I half-dozed on the ride home, the rhythmic sounds of the horses’ hooves lulling me into a half-waking dream state where I floated on imaginings of Adam and I twirling together in ballrooms across France, across Europe. We would be the talk of every event, and I would be recognised as a lady of class and poise – not the poor, reckless daughter of the town witch.
Startled awake by the cold wind that whipped into the carriage as the door was pulled open, I righted myself swiftly, embarrassed as though the footman could tell what I had been dreaming of.
“Mademoiselle.” Nicholas kept his eyes on the ground as I stepped out of the carriage, and I paused.
“Nicholas?” I asked softly, and his head snapped up. There was a flash in his eyes that I would have described as fear, but it was gone so quickly.
“Yes, Mademoiselle?” His voice was tight, as if he expected reproach.
“Relax, please,” I said kindly. “I’m not upset with you. I would just like to know–”
“Je suis désolé. I know what it is you wish to know, but I cannot answer.” He turned abruptly, but I snagged his sleeve.
“Please,” I breathed, looking around swiftly for witnesses. The street was empty but for a lone, orange fox slinking around the rubbish bins outside the cafe at the end of the street. “I have to know why you tried to warn me away from the Prince.”
Nicholas raised pained green eyes to me, fine black hair escaping from under his footman’s cap. “He has eyes everywhere. If he finds out I spoke to you...I will be punished again.”
“Again? Nicholas, who punished you? And why?”
He face creased with fear. “He knew I warned you. He found out somehow. Please, I can’t take another whipping, Mademoiselle. I must go now.”
With that, he yanked free of my grasp and clambered swiftly onto the front of the carriage, snapping the reins. The horses whinnied unhappily, their hooves clattering on the cobbles as they sped off into the night.
I stood, clutching my coat around myself, Nicholas’s horrifying words ringing in my ears. I can’t take another whipping...
Surely he had not meant that Adam had whipped him. I could not imagi
ne Adam’s hands, hands that had touched me so delicately, holding the grip of a whip. Perhaps the head butler, who was in charge of the footmen, had done it. Perhaps he had been worried that Nicholas’s unwise words had scared me away from the Prince for good.
Still, I could not imagine the pain of a whipping, or the fear it inspired. I felt sorry for Nicholas, though I still had no answer as to why he had tried to warn me away in the first place.
Beautiful things always come with a sharp edge. Adam’s words from earlier in the evening came back to me on a passing thought, and I shook it away. It was only then that I realised I had left my rose in the carriage, and felt a twinge of sadness at its loss.
Turning toward the house, I reached into my bag for my key to unlock the door, only to find the door opening from the inside. My stomach dropped.
Mother stood in the doorway, wearing her white night shift and dressing gown, her hair in curlers and her eyes ablaze with fury. She said not a word as she beckoned my inside.
Meekly, I went, scuttling past her into the living room, where her crystal ball sat on the low table, surrounded by lit spell candles and fragrant, scattered herbs.
She had been looking for me, and from the disapproving look on her face, she had Seen where I had been. Blushing, I hoped she hadn’t seen all of the evening’s events. That kiss between Adam and I in the ballroom was entirely inappropriate for any eyes but our own.
“Agatha Jeanne Dubois,” Mother said sternly, and I flinched. “Would you care to tell me where you have been all evening?”
My instinct was to say no, since she clearly already knew the answer, but I bit my tongue on my usual belligerence. There was no use lying at this point. “I was at the palace. With Prince Adam,” I said, lifting my chin.
Mother spat a word that I had never heard her use, and then sighed. It was as if all of the anger drained out of her at once, leaving behind a tired, worried-looking woman. “Do you know how worried I was about you when I came home from my Reading, and you weren’t here? I was up and down the streets, searching for you. When I couldn’t find you, and the neighbours hadn’t seen you, I Scryed every way I know how. Do you know what I Saw?”
