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THE BARRIER OF BLUE light stretched from floor to ceiling down the length of one side of her bed. Adelaide smiled to herself. She had lost count of how many times she had attempted conjuring a barrier. Only two days prior—the day after the banquet, in fact—had she managed to get a barrier about the size of a small shield to stay up after she broke the link between the barrier and her hands. She walked around the edge of her bed, examining the thin barrier of shimmering, near-transparent azure light.
Now for the real test. She picked a throwing knife up off her desk and threw it at the barrier. It hit the barrier, and a ripple of energy pulsed out from the point of impact as the knife bounced back and fell onto her bed.
“Yes!” She clapped her hands over her mouth. Her heart hammered as she listened.
No one came knocking.
The barrier held.
Adelaide giggled and tried throwing the knife again. Same result. “I wonder...”
She walked around to the other side and raised her glowing palm. A point of light appeared over her outstretched hand and exploded into a small ball of flame. She launched the small fireball at the barrier.
The barrier absorbed the fire with a sound like distant wind.
Adelaide gave a little jump. She rubbed her hands together, pondering what to try next.
Someone knocked on the door of her room and she nearly jumped out of her skin. “Just a moment!” She waved her hand, and the barrier wavered then disappeared.
After taking a moment to collect herself and slow her panicked breathing, she unlocked and opened the door. One of the Drummonds’ maids stood at the door, holding a short, square wooden box.
“A messenger just delivered these for you, my lady.” The maid offered the box and a letter with a slight bow of her head. “From Sir Nolan Carrick.”
Adelaide rolled her eyes. “Thank you.” She closed the door and sat on her bed. The letter bore her name in a neat, flowing script. She broke the crimson wax seal of a gryphon on the back and read quickly.
Dear Lady Adelaide,
I pray you will forgive me for my inexcusable behavior at the Glower banquet. I admit I had drunk too much wine, and I am not ashamed to admit that I acted partly out of jealousy for your attentions. You are a rare and incomparable lady of good name and angelic beauty, and you deserve the affection of a man of similarly good name and appearance. I acted rashly, not as a gentleman, I fear, but as a man blinded by his admiration for you and a desire to see you unsullied by the dark forces of this world. I urge you, as a man of chivalry and honor, and as one who cares for you, not to trust Regulus Hargreaves. Please accept this humble token of my sincere apology and my admiration for your strong spirit, kind heart, and indescribable beauty.
Yours in heart and soul,
Nolan Carrick
Adelaide made a disgusted sound and tossed the letter aside. More out of curiosity than anything else, she lifted the lid off the box. Inside, on a blue velvet cloth, lay a necklace. It was a collar, really, formed of solid, flat silver wire, shaped to fit around the neck, with an elegant swirling design framing either side of a large, oval moonstone she guessed would rest between her collarbones if she put it on. She had no intention of ever doing so.
“Forgive me, and love me, because I’m rich!” she muttered. She replaced the lid and stuck the box and letter in a drawer in the vanity desk. She rolled her neck, pushing thoughts of Nolan’s stubborn pride and selfish behavior away. Back to practicing magic.
Another knock on the door, and Adelaide stifled a groan. The same servant held a basket covered with a rough brown cloth with another letter resting on top. The maid giggled and smiled. “Just delivered for you, from—”
“Nolan Carrick, yes, yes.” She halfheartedly reached for the basket.
“No, my lady.” The maid winked. “From Lord Regulus Hargreaves of Arrano.”
An unexpected catch in her breath. Adelaide grabbed the basket with a little more intensity than necessary or proper. “Thank you.” She slammed the door shut as she hurried to her bed. The letter had her name on the front, although not in as precise and elegant of a script. A red seal on the back was imprinted with a rose over a pair of crossed swords. She broke the seal and fell back on the bed, holding the letter above her as she read.
Dear Lady Adelaide Belanger,
I greatly enjoyed your company at the Glowers’ feast. Your conversation turned an evening that would have been long and trying into an enjoyable night that passed far too quickly. I am impressed by your wit, your honesty, your thoughtfulness, and your bold heart. I hope I am not being too forward in sending a small token of my admiration. I hope my little gift reminds you of home—and keeps me in your thoughts, as you are in mine. I look forward to when our paths cross again. Until then, I shall have to settle for fond memories of your gentle face framed by silky black hair and the deep warmth of your dark brown eyes.
Sincerely yours,
Regulus
In a different, more curving script at the bottom, was a postscript.
P.S. Regulus threw this note away because he feared it was too sentimental and forward, but I switched out the letters because this one is a more accurate representation of his heart. Perhaps it can be our secret? I should very much like to live. –Dresden Jakobs
Adelaide chuckled and reread the note. It was sappy, yes. But it felt honest. Real. She rolled over and pulled the cloth off the top of the basket and gasped.
Nalotavi. Four large, perfectly flaky, chocolatey and spicy smelling nalotavi rolls. She tossed the cloth back over the basket and raced down the hall to Minerva’s study. She didn’t even bother knocking, just walked in, basket in hand.
Minerva looked up in surprise from her needlework. “You startled me. Is everything—”
“Min, look!” She held the basket in front of her sister and yanked off the cloth.
Min’s mouth fell open. “Is that...”
“Nalotavi, yes!” Adelaide grabbed one out of the basket and took a bite. “Mmm.” She let the flaky, buttery, chocolate-laced pastry dissolve in her mouth and savored the gentle kick of the ginger and cinnamon at the end. Minerva didn’t wait for an invitation; she took one of the other rolls and bit into it.
Contented ecstasy spread over Minerva’s face. “Where did you get this?” she asked after several bites.
Adelaide finished chewing and swallowed. “A gift. From Lord Regulus.”
“Mm-hmmm.” Minerva winked.
“Stop it.” She took a large bite to signal she wouldn’t answer any more questions.
“Oh!” Minerva gasped and waved Adelaide over. “Come here, hurry!”
“What’s wrong?” Adelaide set the basket and her roll on an empty armchair and rushed to kneel next to her sister, her insides knotting.
“Nothing, here!” Min grabbed her hand and pressed it to her round stomach. “Right...” She shifted Adelaide’s hand over the soft fabric of her dress. “Hm...”
Something jabbed against Adelaide’s palm. “Min! Was that—” The baby moved again.
“Mm-hm!” Minerva laughed, still holding Adelaide’s hand on her belly.
“Oh, Min.” Adelaide beamed, her throat tight and eyes moist.
“I’ve been waiting for the little one to move when you’re in the room.” Minerva chuckled. “Gaius is going to be jealous. He keeps falling asleep with his hand on my stomach; he loves feeling the baby move. I think he’s more impatient for him or her to arrive than I am.”
“Well, over halfway there.” Adelaide pulled her hand away, as the baby seemed to have gotten comfortable.
Minerva pointed to the basket. “Might I steal another nalotavi roll? I think the baby likes them.” She winked and Adelaide laughed.
“Fine. For the baby.” She handed Minerva another roll and picked her own back up.
“I have to admit,” Min said between bites, “this is working well in Lord Hargreaves’ favor.”
Adelaide didn’t respond, but she had to agree.
