First Light (28 page)

“Hush, Kindra,” Merry Anne scolded.

“Or if you’d let me carry everyone and run through the gates so fast there wouldn’t
be
any prints left behind,” Zipporah said, zipping a quick circle around them.

With an exasperated sigh, Merry Anne set down her knitting needles and looked up at the ceiling. “Oh, that I had been an only fairy.”

“Is it one of
her
people?” King Addison asked. “Has she finally managed to break through our security—”

“And so close to the wedding,” Queen Ellen wailed. “Or is it—” She stopped mid-sentence, gasping at the smiles the four fairies were bestowing upon her.

“It is,” Merry Anne said, her eyes twinkling. “Adrielle has returned.”

“What— when?” King Addison stood abruptly. He came around the desk to stand next to his wife, bracing his arm around her. “Why were we not told?”

Merry Anne stared up at the couple a moment before proceeding, choosing her words with care. “Adrielle has been here for quite some time. She recently left the castle on an errand. The tracks the bridge guard discovered were those of the wagon returning her. The rain that made those tracks possible was, in fact, a result of her errand.”

“She was safely here, and you let her leave again?” The queen’s voice rose to a high pitch, and she looked as if she might swoon.

“Have you all gone mad?” King Addison asked, turning to glare at each of the sisters. “Why would you allow her to do such a thing— to wander out in the open where Nadamaris might have—”

“Adrielle was perfectly safe.” Florence drifted back to the floor and returned to her human form. “On her first journey home she had the animals of the forest watching out for her. And yesterday I was with her the entire time.”

“
You
were with her. And
she’s
been
here
for how long?” King Addison’s deep voice boomed across the library. His arm tightened around his pale wife. “What of us? Had you no thought of how we might feel? Did it never occur to you that we might wish to see her ourselves?”

“Yes, of course,” Merry Anne said. “But we thought it best to wait.”

“You’ll recall the immense trouble the princess Briar Rose found herself in when she returned home earlier than planned,” Zipporah said. “The sleeping death.”

“That magnificent, fire-breathing dragon.” Kindra’s eyes lit up. “How I wish I could have been there.”

“And all those thorns that sprang up,” Florence added.

“
Sisters
,” Merry Anne scolded, then looked at the king and queen again. “Though Zipporah is correct about our reasons for keeping Adrielle’s presence here a secret. We knew the longer it was concealed, the safer she would be. It was only the most unfortunate of circumstances that forced us to bring her here earlier than we’d planned.”

“What circumstances?” King Addison asked, his anger tempering a bit.

“Lady Gretta and Lord Stephen are both deceased,” Merry Anne said as gently as she could. “Lady Gretta fell prey to the epidemic; the infection went to her heart. Lord Stephen was killed by Nadamaris’s spies.”

“Good Lord.” The king staggered backward to the nearest sofa, where both he and Queen Ellen sat in stunned silence.

“They were that close to Adrielle, to—” Queen Ellen whispered.

“Yes, your majesty,” Merry Anne said, her voice solemn. “Only Lord Stephen’s refusal to speak saved her.”

King Addison’s face contorted with pain. “When I asked this of him, when I told him he might be required to forfeit his life— I never believed…”

Queen Ellen put her arm around him.

“Stephen was my best friend,” the king continued, his voice filled with anguish.

“He proved true,” Merry Anne said. “And he loved Adrielle as his own. Let us not make his sacrifice in vain. Be patient a little longer.”

“Have mercy on us,” Queen Ellen begged. “It has been nearly eighteen years. Do not make us wait any longer.”

“Yes,” King Addison agreed. “If Adrielle is already here, why keep her from us? Where is the harm—”

“There’s plenty of harm.” Merry Anne jumped up on the seat of her chair. “
No one,
aside from us— not even Adrielle herself— knows her true identity.
That
is the key to keeping her safe.”

“But how can she protect herself should something happen? How can she—”

“She has the charmed bracelet,” Florence said. “She understands its magic, and if need be, she will use it to protect herself again.”

“
Again?
” the queen gasped. “What has happened already?”

“Nothing of consequence.” Merry Anne shot an angry look at Florence. “Adrielle is here, after all.”

“Please.” Queen Ellen’s voice broke on a sob. She fell to her knees in front of Merry Anne. “Please. I implore you. I beg of you. Let me see her.”

King Addison grasped his wife’s elbow and pulled her to her feet. “There’s no need to grovel,” he said, his tone fierce. Looking straight at Merry Anne, he spoke firmly. “I command that you bring her to us at once.”

Merry Anne took an embroidered handkerchief from her sleeve and used it to dab at the tears leaking down the side of the queen’s face. “Very well,” she said, unhappy with the king’s edict. “But I ask one thing of you— and I ask it out of concern for Adrielle’s safety.”

“Go on,” King Addison said.

“When you see her, I do not want you to tell her anything. It is too soon yet— too many ears might hear; there may yet be spies among us
. Two weeks
is ample time for Nadamaris to discover our secret.”

King Addison sighed. Letting his arm drop from his wife’s shoulder, he returned to his desk and sat down, a weary look creasing his brow. “And what of Cecilia? And Prince Cristian? Cecilia has braced herself for this, but it seems cruel at best to abuse the prince this way.”

“That will not be a problem,” Florence assured the king.

“No?” King Addison said. “How can it not be?”

“Because Cristian is already in love with Adrielle,” Merry Anne said. “Their errand outside the castle walls yesterday has proved the strength of their bond. It is only his sense of duty that binds him to this kingdom and Cecilia. But I promise you, his heart is elsewhere.”

“
Cristian
has seen Adrielle?” Queen Ellen asked, a fresh set of tears gathering in her eyes.

“He knows not who she is,” Merry Anne said, hoping this might soften the blow to the queen’s heart. “Though,” Merry Anne brought a hand to her chin, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I daresay it is perhaps time he was told. Another set of eyes watching out can only help.”

“I’ll tell him,” Kindra said. She turned away from the fireplace, the tip of her kindling stick glowing as she held it in the air. “And swear him to secrecy as well.”

Cristian skulked about the bare orchard, hating the way it looked and felt now— devoid of its sweet fruit and the even sweeter maiden who had made it her purpose to harvest it.
Adrielle.
Her name was the first word in his mind each morning, her face the last image before he fell asleep each night. He knew he had to forget her, yet he couldn’t.

The past two days he’d lingered outside the kitchen in the predawn hours, hoping for a glimpse of her. But with the cooler mornings, she’d taken to keeping the door closed longer. Still, he’d stayed to watch the smoke unfurl from the chimney, and a short while later he’d enjoyed the aroma of fresh baked bread. It had been comforting to know she was close, still here doing the same things she’d been doing as long as he had known her.

He was the one who was changing, taking a different path— one that led away from her.
Forever
.

He’d not allowed himself to talk with Adrielle since returning from their errand in Tallinyne. And soon he would have to give up trying to see her— even from a distance. But for a day or two more, he’d allow himself this last indulgence. A last joy and feeling of love before his heart was sealed tight against such happiness.

A twig snapped loudly beneath his foot and stuck in his boot. Cristian bent to pry it loose, and when he stood again it was to find one of Adrielle’s strange little friends, the one with the flaming red hair, standing before him.

“Hello, Cristian.” She was smiling and serious at the same time.

“Hello,” he muttered then glanced back, as a feeling of unease came over him. He turned toward the castle and the woman followed, falling into step beside him.

“You miss Adrielle terribly,” she said.

He grunted a response.

“You’d like to see her again, to be free to love her.”

“I’d like not to discuss this with you— or anyone else,” Cristian grumbled.

“Too bad.” The woman was in front of him suddenly, that stick she always carried stuck right up in his face. He pushed it aside and scorched his finger.

“Ow!” He pulled back, both irritated and in pain now. “What did you do that for?”

“I didn’t do anything,” the red-haired woman said pertly. “
You
did.”

“Did you just pull that thing out of a fire or something?” Cristian asked, glaring at her.

“A few minutes ago, yes. But regardless, it’s always hot. Part of my magic.”

“I don’t believe in magic,” he scoffed. “Or curses or fairies or—”

“—
Love
?”

“I didn’t say that.” He tried to sidestep around her, but she was quick and blocked his way again. “What do you want with me?”

“Only to make you happy. To give you hope.” Both her tone and the stern look on her face softened. She touched his arm lightly and sighed. “Why does it always take the men longer to believe? It would make it so much easier if you had just a little more faith.”

“In what?” he asked, feeling slightly more intrigued than irritated now. What did she mean by all this talk of love and hope?

“In things you cannot always see but can feel.”

Her answer confused him further. “
Feeling
does not require faith.”

“
Following
your feelings does,” she countered. “Trusting your heart to choose what is right.” She looked directly into his eyes and held his gaze with her own.

“Doing one’s duty is what is right,” Cristian said, sounding very much like his father. “Honoring a contract entered into long ago requires faith as well.”

“That is true,” she agreed. “And noble.”

“But—” He waited, guessing there was more to her argument and strangely wanting to hear it.

“Contracts are all well and good. But that is not what will stop Nadamaris and save this kingdom.
Love
is. You know that. You’ve experienced it already. You just refuse to believe— and remember.” A breeze lifted her hair, and she stepped aside, moving her stick in a circle before them. Leaves stirred at his feet then rose in a tight whirlwind. Entranced, he stared at them as faster and faster they circled until in their depths he thought he saw something. Someone.
Adrielle—
standing on a wagon bed, her face tilted to the sky. He was there with her, and when he touched her thunder clapped and rain fell. And fell and fell and fell.

“
We
did that.” It was like remembering a long-forgotten dream. But one he’d actually lived. “
Adrielle
and I broke the curse— not Cecilia and I. What does that mean?” He turned to his companion, but she had vanished.

Love her. Love Adrielle.
Whether the words came to his mind or as an actual whisper in his ear, he could not tell. The whirlwind before him changed, and he saw the red-haired woman bending over a cradle, taking a baby from it. Her sisters were clustered around her and together, the four of them took the baby from the room— from the castle.

Cristian blinked and the castle was gone. In its place was a humble farmhouse. The four women were there again. They placed the child in the outstretched arms of a weeping man. Cecilia stood beside the man. She hugged him briefly then followed the four women from the room. A second later the castle was back, there before him— not as part of a vision, but the actual castle. Without realizing it, he’d left the orchard and stood in the shadow of the tower, near the door to the kitchen. But instead of being late afternoon, the sky was dark and filled with stars.

“This is not real,” he whispered, but he wanted it to be.

The kitchen door opened and Adrielle came out, dressed in an exquisite green ball gown, with her hair done up and satin slippers on her feet. She paused on the threshold, and he looked at her as if seeing for the first time. Her past, present, and future unfolded in bursts before him— far too brief to comprehend all of it, but tangible enough that he
knew
.

Cristian gasped. “
She
is—”

Yes.
The voice in his head was back.

His own, choked laugh broke the silence, and the vision before him disappeared. It was afternoon again, and the kitchen door opened. Adrielle, dressed in brown homespun, opened the door and carried two buckets out to the yard. This was no vision. He heard her step and watched as water sloshed from the pail and left drops on the dusty earth. She passed by without seeing him.
 But he saw her true self, as regal as if she wore the finest gown and had a circlet of jewels in her hair.