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THE NEXT MORNING ADELAIDE skipped down the stairs to breakfast, wishing she could have asked Regulus Hargreaves about his time in Khastalland. Did he know any Khast? She’d have to ask him the next time she saw him. As she careened around the corner into the landing to the second floor, she nearly collided with Baroness Carrick. Baron Carrick and Sir Nolan stood just behind the baroness, Nolan with an amused expression.
“Oh, pardon me, my lady!” Adelaide curtsied as her pulse spiked and a string of Khast curses went through her head. I forgot. She smoothed her lavender-gray skirt and took another step back, hoping she hadn’t offended them. If she’d remembered, she wouldn’t have worn a sleeveless dress with a low neckline and would have done something with her hair beyond brushing it. She’d been thinking of going riding in the summer sun, not looking proper in front of a baronial family. “I apologize; I should have been paying more attention.”
Baroness Carrick’s eyebrows lifted. “Ah, well.” Her face relaxed into a small smile. “No harm done.”
The baron looked at her appraisingly. “It’s good to see a young lady with both beauty and energy. You must have many suitors.”
Her cheeks burned. “N-no.” She fiddled with her hands. Why couldn’t Minerva be here? She’s so much smoother with the nobles.
“Shall we continue to breakfast?” Baroness Carrick took her husband’s arm and headed downstairs.
Nolan’s gaze swept over Adelaide and she combed her fingers through her hair. “You have a unique sense of style, Lady Adelaide.”
“Khastallander based—that is, its pattern...my mother.” Stop stammering. “My mother taught me to sew using Khastallander patterns.”
“Well, you look lovely.” Nolan chuckled. The grin on his face suggested he thought her stammering indicated his attentions pleasantly flustered her. If anything, she felt the opposite. He offered her his arm. She didn’t want to accept, but she wouldn’t be impolite to her hosts’ guest and a baron’s son.
They followed his parents. A servant directed them to the smaller dining hall, used for the Drummond family’s private meals. Lord and Lady Drummond and Mother were already in the hall, but not yet seated. Gaius and Minerva entered after them. Once the baron and baroness had taken their seats, Lord and Lady Drummond sat down. Nolan pulled out a chair for Adelaide and sat next to her. Grand.
Lord Drummond, Baron Carrick, and Gaius jumped into a discussion about rumors of goblins spotted at the distant Vanelt-Monparth border. Lady Drummond pulled Mother, Minerva, and the baroness into discussing newborns while servants carried in trays of place settings and delicious-smelling food.
“I had hoped to speak more with you last night, but you always seemed to be otherwise engaged,” Nolan said quietly. “I must have seemed a cad for interrupting your conversation with Lord Hargreaves and didn’t want to repeat my offense. But I assure you, I acted out of concern.”
Adelaide watched a maid pour water into her goblet. “Sir Carrick—”
“Nolan, please. I much prefer it.” He gave her a saccharine smile.
“Sir Nolan,” she amended, hoping this compromise would keep him distant but placated, “has Lord Hargreaves done something to offend you?”
“Other than claiming a title he doesn’t deserve and running innocent, noble ladies out of Monparth—assuming they are even still alive—no, I suppose not.” He turned toward her as he piled eggs and roast duck on his plate. His knee bumped hers under the table and she twisted her legs away. “But I wish to talk about you, Adelaide.” His voice dipped as he spoke her name, becoming low and husky.
She gulped down water. “There isn’t much to me.” Not much I can or want to tell you, anyway. She spread jam over a piece of toast, wishing Minerva wasn’t focused on Baroness Carrick.
“Oh, that seems unlikely.” A touch at her shoulder startled her. Nolan trailed his fingertips down her arm with a sly grin.
“Don’t,” Adelaide whispered, her thoughts snapping to the blades hidden in her boots. My bare skin is not an invitation.
“Sorry.” He pulled his hand away, looking sheepish. “I got carried away. You’re hard to resist.”
She took an unladylike, large bite of toast she hoped would discourage further conversation, at least until the uncomfortable feeling in her stomach faded. She turned her attention to the other conversations at the table.
“The Black Knight has been spotted again,” Gaius said. “Near the eastern marshes, according to Sir Tobias.”
Adelaide swallowed her toast. “Who’s the Black Knight?”
All four men looked at her.
“Who’s the Black Knight?” Gaius lowered his fork, his raised eyebrows pinched together. “What do you mean, who’s the Black Knight?”
Lady Drummond clicked her tongue, looking uncomfortable. “Gaius, dear, this is hardly a topic of conversation for gentle young ladies.”
Baroness Carrick chuckled. “Young ladies love stories of terrifying monsters. It gives them a reason to seek comfort from a strong young knight.” Her eyes danced as she glanced between Adelaide and Nolan.
Adelaide ignored her insinuation. “So is the Black Knight a monster or a man?”
Lord Drummond tapped his fingers on the table. “The Black Knight is a legend. Nothing more.”
Gaius rolled his eyes. “He’s real, I’m sure of it. Sure, no one can prove he exists, but enough people claim to have seen him he must be real. It’s this knight dressed in all-black armor, from his helm to his greaves. Hulking armor with horns on his helm.” His voice was eager. “He’s tall as an ogre, strong as a troll, quick as a nymph and deadly as a viper. He shows up in different places, slaying monsters and killing anyone who gets in his way. It’s said he can’t be defeated.”
“Gaius thinks he’s a hero of old legend, come back to life,” Minerva said with a laugh. “Here to rid the world of monsters.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Nolan reached for his goblet. “If a hero of legend came back to life, they wouldn’t parade about looking like demon spawn.”
Gaius raised a brow. “I have a bet with Flynn Greensburg. I think the Black Knight’s a hero. Flynn thinks he’s a malicious spirit that kills for fun. Hunts down magical creatures for the thrill of the fight.”
“What of the rumors he’s told people he serves a Prince of Shadow and Ash?” the baron asked. “That hardly sounds heroic.”
“Peasants,” Gaius said with a dismissive wave. “Probably made it up.”
Adelaide placed a piece of fish on her plate. “And how will either of you win this bet?”
“If the Black Knight is real, eventually someone will see something or talk to him even.” Gaius shrugged. “Or he’ll go berserk and start killing everything and then Flynn will be right.”
Adelaide shuddered, but Baron Carrick laughed. “I think your friend has the better odds,” the baron said, “although I certainly hope he’s wrong.”
Adelaide tried to picture this hulking knight in black armor wearing a helm with horns. “Has anyone seen him in Thaera?” She shouldn’t want someone or something so menacing to be in the duchy she herself was in, but she couldn’t help her curiosity.
“Not just in Thaera Duchy, but in Etchy Barony.” The baron’s countenance darkened. “I don’t like these rumors. They make my people uneasy.”
The Drummonds lived within the Carrick’s barony. That was uncomfortably close. Nolan patted her thigh under the table. “Don’t worry. You’re perfectly safe.”
She shifted farther away from him and focused on her breakfast. Safe from the Black Knight? Or safe from you?
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THANKFULLY, THE CARRICKS left after breakfast. Adelaide forgot all about Nolan Carrick until a messenger arrived with a letter addressed to her two days later. She worked a knife under the gryphon-stamped wax seal and eased the letter open, considering tossing it without reading. Mother and Minerva watched from across the drawing room while a small fire popped in the fireplace and cloudy afternoon sunlight angled across the wood paneled floor. A pressed navy-blue flower fell out of the letter onto her lap.
Dear Lady Adelaide Belanger,
I greatly enjoyed spending even such a brief time in your presence. I hope soon to have the opportunity to get to know you more intimately. Until then, accept this flower as a token of my regard—a dark and lovely bloom that, I fear, cannot come close to equaling your beauty.
Affectionately,
Sir Nolan Carrick
“Etiros spare me.” Adelaide rolled her eyes.
“What does it say?” Minerva asked.
Adelaide scowled at the letter, resisting the urge to ignite it in her hand. “I am a dark and lovely flower, and Sir Nolan Carrick wishes to know me more,” her upper lip curled in distaste, “intimately.”
Mother huffed and muttered something under her breath in Khast about daggers and pretentious boys’ faces. Minerva chided Mother while Adelaide laughed and tossed the letter and flower into the fireplace. Later that afternoon, another letter arrived, this one addressed to both Mother and Adelaide. Mother showed the wax seal, imprinted with a rose over crossed swords, to Minerva.
“Do you recognize this?”
Minerva frowned. “It’s vaguely familiar. I’m not sure.”
Adelaide snatched away the letter, opened it, and read it aloud—which she immediately regretted.
Dear Ladies Tamina and Adelaide Belanger,
I was honored to make your acquaintance. I wish to apologize for abandoning the festivities early and assure you I meant no disrespect. I hope our paths will cross again—preferably when other duties do not draw me away prematurely from the pleasure of your company.
Sincerely yours,
Lord Regulus Hargreaves of Arrano
Adelaide blushed when Mother frowned and said, “Who is Lord Hargreaves?” The letter was addressed to both of them, but it was obvious its message was for Adelaide. She wanted to respond, but Mother wouldn’t hear of it.
“It’s acceptable for him to apologize for an impolite exit,” Mother said. “But you are a lady and will not write a man letters unless he is formally courting you.”
That only made Adelaide more embarrassed. As if she could think about courting him after one conversation. But that night, as she thought about Regulus Hargreaves’ note and the look in his gray eyes as he talked about his favorite sound...she wondered what it would be like to court him.
Over the next days, Adelaide perfected the art of avoiding Lady Drummond and her tapestry. Gaius got ahead of her in checkers, but she had her revenge and regained the lead. Mother thought their rivalry had grown out of control and wasn’t very lady-like, and Lady Drummond agreed. Adelaide didn’t care. Gaius felt like the brother she had never had, and she did have two half-brothers. But neither of them had ever had much interest in her.
When it came time for Mother to leave, Adelaide couldn’t believe they had already been at the Drummonds for nearly three weeks. Minerva tried to talk her into staying longer, but Mother said she missed Father, and needed to get back so she could resume overseeing the household. As previously agreed, Adelaide would stay to support Minerva through the pregnancy.
The day after Mother left, the Drummonds and Adelaide received invitations to a dance to be hosted in a week’s time by Baron and Baroness Carrick. It would be quite the affair—supper, entertainment, dancing, and a grand breakfast for all attendees who stayed the night. Lady Drummond declared they would most certainly stay the night.
Adelaide didn’t share Lord and Lady Drummond’s enthusiasm over the invitation. Something about Nolan Carrick made her uncomfortable. Beyond his rude attitude toward Lord Hargreaves, even beyond his uninvited touches. Trust your woman’s intuition, Mother always said. Well, her intuition said not to trust Nolan Carrick. She put the invitation on her vanity and stared at it, wishing she could decline. But it would be unthinkable to refuse a higher-ranking noble’s invitation without the excuse of another engagement.
Hmmm. Adelaide smiled to herself. Which means Lord Hargreaves will likely be there. Her mood lightened. If she could talk to Lord Hargreaves, maybe get a chance to satisfy her curiosity and learn some of the truth about him... She could endure an evening with a smug, spoiled show-off like Nolan Carrick. She stared at the quill and ink pot on the back of the vanity. Her fingers twitched. Mother will never know. She smiled to herself as she penned a quick note.
She sealed the letter and set it aside. Her gaze moved to the stack of books she had borrowed from Lord Drummond’s library. Right now, she had more important things to occupy her thoughts than men. Mother had left. Adelaide had locked the door to her room. Her maid Giselle was out doing laundry and wouldn’t be back for a while. Adelaide sorted through the books. A History of Monparth, Part III. Saint Kardeman’s Bestiary and Herbal. The Life of King Saewyne the Magnificent. All interesting titles, but not what she wanted just now.
She pulled out a volume whose dark leather binding displayed cracks from getting dried out and leaned forward in her seat in front of the vanity. The pages crinkled as she opened it. Careful. Don’t break it! She ran her index finger over the title on the first page. A Compendium of Known Magical Abilities and Tales of Mages of Legend. No author was listed.
She could imagine Mother’s disapproving voice as she began reading. “You don’t want to make yourself a target.” Well, if simple farmers and even children weren’t spared, her level of knowledge wasn’t the issue. And if whatever dark force was behind The Shadow came after her, she would need more than knives to defend herself. She took a deep breath and turned the page to a list of subjects, broken down by category: light, fire, horticulture, healing, combat, bindings, and storing magic in objects.
“In the beginning, Etiros imbued all living things with magic.” Adelaide skimmed the preface. Generalities on magic being a pure form of energy that Etiros used to give life, but that an excess of this energy in a person resulted in a mage. It said magic could be “corrupted into sorcery by malicious intent or when used to take instead of give.”
It also gave a sobering warning; one her parents had never given. “Because magic is inextricably tied to a living thing’s life energy, use of magic wearies the mage. Over-exertion of magical ability can cause long periods of slumber, fainting, and on occasion, death.” Adelaide couldn’t imagine the desperation a mage would have to feel to push their abilities so far they killed themselves. She hurried on.
Each category in the Compendium started with basic, boring abilities. Although, stories of mages forming a free-floating source of light, erecting a solid barrier, and maintaining a constant heat of flame in a furnace were interesting.
Mages supposedly could force plants to grow faster and fruit to ripen, and calm animals. She marveled at descriptions of mages healing broken bones, curing illnesses, and a rumor a mage had reattached a severed limb. Adelaide had figured out basic healing early, as receiving your first dagger at age five resulted in many cuts. If only the Compendium explained how to do all these things. She fanned through the pages.
An illustration caught her eye, and she flipped back. A man held a gigantic white sword that appeared to be emitting flames. She looked at the facing page and read under her breath.
“Substantive magic. Subset: Conjure weapons of light and flame.
“Mages can shape the light they produce to form a weapon which, while composed entirely of light and sometimes of flame, is none-the-less material...”
Adelaide looked up and stared at her reflection in the vanity mirror. “Form a weapon of solid light. I can do that?”
The rest of the entry detailed the history of the technique and variations on weapon types. No instructions, other than “shape the light they produce.” She slumped back in her chair.
“Maybe if I just concentrate...” She stood and moved away from the vanity. The curtains were drawn, no one would see. She raised her hand, palm up, and let the tingle of energy flow to her hand. A soft sphere of periwinkle-tinted light ignited above her outstretched palm. It had taken months of secret practice to form that sphere, instead of releasing a burst of flame. She stared at the sphere, willing it to become a sword. Nothing.
Okay...start smaller. A dagger?
Her mind ached from the concentration. The sphere elongated, became rectangular, then narrowed. “Yes!” She grinned, and the rectangle of pale blue light vanished like water from a burst skin. “No.” She rubbed her forehead and rolled her shoulders back. Come on. You can do it.
Once again, she conjured the light and focused on shaping it. She practiced for over an hour. Finally, the light took the shape of a crude dagger. A plain, round hilt as long as her palm was wide, attached to a long, thin blade. It looked soft around the edges, but the center appeared solid.
Her pulse racing, she reached for the handle. The moment of truth. Her fingers closed around the hilt—
Knocking echoed from the door, and Adelaide jumped. The dagger vanished. She threw her head back and groaned. No! I was so close! She placed the Compendium back under the other books and unlocked the door.
Giselle walked in carrying a basket of clean clothes. “Everything all right, m’lady?”
“Of course. Just doing some reading.”
