“Hey!” I yelled. “You need to get out of here! The governor’s men are coming!”
The chanting abruptly died away, and all those dark figures turned toward me. My heart stopped. This had been a terrible idea. Maybe they didn’t use dark curses, but there were certain ugly physical ways of harming someone, especially an intruder to a sacred ceremony.
“Who is that?” demanded a deep male voice. “Somebody get hold of her before she reports us!”
“I’m trying to help you!” I shouted.
Two people surged toward me, and I started to scramble backward when a familiar voice in the circle exclaimed, “Adelaide? What are you doing here?”
The men reaching for me stopped and glanced back uncertainly. “Do you know her?” one asked.
“Yes.” Cedric broke from the circle, his features becoming clearer as he approached. “What is this? You shouldn’t be out here.”
I clutched hold of his sleeve. “You have to get out of here. They’re assembling—the governor’s men. They know you’re here and plan to attack.”
“Impossible,” said the first man, the one with the deep voice. As he came forward, I could make out long robes around him. They were almost like those an orthodox priest might wear, but these were dark on one side and light on the other. “No one knows we’re here—this is private land, granted to me while the owner is away. And how could some girl possibly know what the governor’s doing?”
Cedric stared down at me for long moments. “She would know,” he said grimly. “We need to go.”
“But the ceremony isn’t over,” one woman protested.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Cedric. “It’s more important for us to—”
“Look!” someone cried.
There, on the far side of the valley, on the opposite slope, I could see men on horses charging down. A few carried torches. I couldn’t be certain from this far away, but it looked as though all were armed.
“Scatter!” Cedric cried. “Different directions. Stick to the woods, where the horses can’t follow.”
Everyone instantly obeyed, and I wondered if they continually drilled for this sort of threat. Cedric grabbed my arm, and we ran toward the side of the valley I’d come from. For a while, all I could hear was the pounding of our feet and ragged breathing. Then, behind us, I heard shouts and, once, the sound of a pistol.
Cedric slowed to a stop and looked back. “What are you doing?” I demanded. “We have to get out of here!”
Another pistol shot sounded, and so help me, he started to move back toward the grove. I hurried forward, pushing myself in front of him.
“Cedric, don’t!”
“They need me,” he said. “I’m not going to run. I have to help them!”
“Help them by staying alive! Unless you’ve got more weapons than I can see, you’ll only get yourself killed. And me.”
That last part seemed to stir him. After another moment’s hesitation, he turned and continued on our previous trajectory.
After what felt like an eternity, we finally reached the tree line and burst into the woods, barely slowing our pace. Branches whipped at me, further tearing the dress, and we both tripped on more than one occasion. I had no idea where we were when Cedric finally brought us to a halt. We stood there, both of us panting, as he looked around, scrutinizing every tree.
“We lost them,” he said. “They didn’t come in this direction. They either got delayed going after someone else or headed for more accessible areas.”
“Are you sure?”
He studied the area once more, but all we heard were the ordinary sounds of a forest at night. “Positive. No horse could come through this, and we had too much of a head start on foot—because we let the others be caught instead.” He made no attempt to hide the frustration within him.
I sagged in relief, unwilling to admit how terrified I’d been of being found with a group of heretics by the governor’s men.
“How did you know where we were?” Cedric asked.
“Mira told me. She told me how to sneak out too. She’s very resourceful.”
He snorted. “She’s not the only one, apparently. Do you realize what kind of danger you put yourself in? Sneaking out of the house? Going through the woods alone?”
“No more dangerous than religious dissidents who insist on holding services out in the open when their faith is punishable by death,” I retorted. “Why do you keep doing that? Why don’t you find some sacred, windowless basement to worship in? It’s like you’re trying to get caught.”
Cedric sank to his knees. There was less light out here, but I could see him put a hand to his face. “The Star Advent has to be outside. I should’ve suggested another place. This one’s privately owned, like Douglas said, but they’ve used it before—and that’s dangerous. I should’ve been more prepared—helped them more.”
I put a hand on his shoulder, moved by the anguish in his voice. “You helped them. They may have all gotten away. You gave them some warning before the riders came.”
He stood back up. “Adelaide, why did you come out here?”
“Why do you think?” I asked. “Warren was bragging about how he was going to go round up some Alanzans tonight, and I knew my favorite heretic would be out with them.”
“Adelaide . . .”
Although I wasn’t able to truly meet his eyes in the darkness, I felt compelled to glance away from the intensity I could feel. There was no way I could tell him the truth, that Warren’s words had filled me with dread, that my chest had tightened with the thought of something happening to Cedric—imprisonment, or worse. The bureaucracy of the Glittering Court, Viola’s machinations . . . none of it had mattered if something happened to Cedric.
“And I didn’t want to see your father steal your commission if you got yourself killed in some weird star-worshipping ceremony.”
His amusement returned. “You don’t know what Star Advent is?”
“How would I? I’m a devout worshipper of Uros.”
“I’m pretty sure I saw you sleeping, the last I was in church with all of you.”
I turned away and began walking in a random direction. “I’m going home to bed.”
He took my arm and began leading me a different way. “Come on. You’re in enough trouble, so let’s make a detour.”
“Is that a good idea?” I asked uneasily. “With them after us?”
“They aren’t after us anymore—not you and me, at least. And we’ll practically be on Wisteria Hollow’s property anyway. I need to show you what Star Advent is. Don’t worry,” he added, guessing my thoughts. “There are no dark ceremonies, no heathens lying together under the moon.”
“‘Lying together under the moon’? I suppose that’s a delicate way of referring to something sordid.”
“It’s not always so sordid. Sometimes it’s part of the Alanzan wedding service,” he explained. “Perfectly respectable.”
I thought about what Mira had said, that Alanzan morals were the same as ours—but I didn’t want him to know I’d asked about such things. “How so?”
“There’s a line in the ceremony: ‘I will take your hand and lie with you in the groves, under the light of the moon.’”
“Well, that’s pretty,” I said reluctantly. “But I take it sometimes lying together under the moon is as sordid as it sounds?”
He considered for several moments. “Yes. Yes, sometimes it is.”
After cutting through more wooded areas for a while, we entered a field. It was desolate and overgrown with weeds, probably abandoned in one of the wars with the Icori.
“This should be open enough,” Cedric said, though I noticed he stopped near the tree line so we weren’t entirely exposed.
He spread his cloak out on the ground and lay down on one side, gesturing for me to do the same. Puzzled, I ginger
ly crouched down and then stretched out beside him. There wasn’t a lot of room. He pointed.
“Look up. Away from the moon.”
I did. At first, I saw nothing but the stars set across the darkness of the sky. It reminded me of Blue Spring, with so many more stars visible than around the lights of Osfro. I was about to ask him what I was looking for when I saw a streak of light in the sky. I gasped, and another soon followed.
“A shooting star,” I said, delighted as I saw another. “Is that why you’re out here? How did you know?” I’d seen one as a child, completely by chance.
“It happens every year around this time. I never know the exact dates, but the astronomers figure it out. We say they’re the tears of the six wayward angels, weeping for their estrangement from the great god Uros.”
Another star streaked above us. “You worship Uros?”
“Of course. He’s the sky father. We acknowledge that—just as the orthodox do. And we pray during Star Advent that Uros and all the angels, glorious and wayward, will be reconciled. It’s a time for us too to put away grudges and find peace.”
I watched the stars. “I’d like to find peace with you. I’m sorry for what I said after the gala.”
He sighed. “No, I’m sorry. You were right—Warren Doyle is a good match. His . . . approach rubbed me the wrong way, but that doesn’t mean there’s anything amiss.”
“Eh . . . well, that might not exactly be true.”
I told Cedric about the revelations at the party. Aghast, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at me. His body seemed to be only a heartbeat away from mine.
“What? Why are you only just mentioning this?”
“Well,” I said drily, “I was kind of busy saving you and your heretic friends.”
“Adelaide, this is . . . I don’t know. This is bad.”
“Yes . . . or is it?” I asked. “I mean, I didn’t like her manner, but I was already considering Warren. I don’t know.”
“Before, it was your choice. Now, it’s becoming blackmail.”
“If I married him, she’d have no motivation to sell me out.”
“But she’d always hold that over you. Someone who’s threatening to do it now will never let that go. And if she does tell now . . .”
“Then some enterprising scoundrel in hope of a bounty carries me back to Osfrid. Unless I get the security of marriage—with Warren or someone else.”
“I’ll marry you myself before I let you do that.” There was a hardness to his voice, no joking.
I still managed a laugh, but there was a catch in it. Maybe it was because of the earlier excitement. Maybe it was because we were lying out alone under the stars. Maybe it was simply the boldness of what he’d said—and what it would mean.
“Last I checked, you aren’t in a position to ‘let’ me do anything.” He was so close to me, his body leaning into mine. I could see the lines of his face, the shape of his lips. And of course, I could smell that damned vetiver. “Besides, what use could an art-forging, renegade noble possibly be to some tree-worshipping—”
I can’t say the kiss was entirely unexpected. And I can’t say I hadn’t wanted it.
There was a hesitancy to it at first, as though he worried I might protest. He should’ve known better. I parted my lips and heard a small sound of surprise catch in his throat. And then all nervousness between us vanished. I’d say I yielded to him, except I was every bit as aggressive as he was. I wrapped my arms around his neck to pull him closer, crushing his lips to mine. It was the great release of months and months of pent-up . . . attraction? Lust? A deeper feeling? Whatever it was, I let it sweep me away.
I’d shared a few polite kisses in ballroom corners that seemed to belong to some other world. There was nothing polite here. It was hungry and consuming, almost an attempt by each of us to possess the other. I felt my whole body respond when he shifted his over mine. One of his hands cupped my face, and the other rested on my hip. After years of virtue lectures, I’d always wondered how silly girls could give theirs up. Now, I understood.
When he brought his mouth down to my neck, trailing kisses to my collarbone, I thought I would melt. We clung to each other in the night, struggling to get closer and closer. Though all our clothes remained on, at one point I ended up on top of him, uncaring that it hiked my skirt up to my knee. He tangled his fingers in my hair as we kissed, freeing it from the carefully placed pins.
Then, at last, I paused for breath, managing to sit up—albeit in a very brazen way that still straddled his hips. He ran his fingers along the side of my face, tracing my cheekbone before sliding back to the unruly waves of my hair.
“Disheveled,” I said, smoothing his own hair back. “Just like you always wanted.”
“I . . . have wanted a lot more than that,” he admitted, voice husky. But he dropped his hand with a sigh. “But your future husband won’t thank me for this.”
“‘Future’ being the important word. I don’t have a husband yet. And until I do, I can make my own choice.” I considered that for a few moments. “Actually, I intend to make my own choices even after I have a husband.”
“I’m sure you do, but I’m also pretty sure my father would have some very, uh, strong opinions about this. We’re your caretakers—your guardians. We’re supposed to protect you and support you until you can move on to some extravagant marriage offer.”
Words I’d heard so many times. “And get you an equally extravagant commission.”
He sat up, gently shifting me off him. “I don’t care about that.”
I thought about our original plan. I thought about the riders in the night and the gunshots. Cedric needed to get out of here.
“I care about it,” I said softly. “Have you had any luck with the painting?”
“Not exactly. No one really doubts its authenticity. But Walter— my agent—is having trouble finding anyone with enough money.”
I stood up and brushed off my skirt, more out of habit than anything else. “Then I guess it’s up to me to secure your stake.”
“Don’t do anything you don’t want,” he warned, joining me and shaking out the cloak.
My heart still beat rapidly. I want you, I thought. I want you to kiss me again and lay me back down in that field.
But although my body was heated, my mind was cool. Maybe I was free to do what I wanted right now, but he was right that there would be terrible, terrible consequences if there was any whisper of what had just happened between us. We slowly continued our walk back to the house, both of us lost in thought. I hardened myself. Marriage wasn’t about love and wanting. It was about business, and I needed to get back to that business. One slip could be forgiven, but not a second one—no matter what my heart wanted to tell me. And right now, it had a lot to say.
Cedric was apparently thinking along the same lines when Wisteria Hollow came into sight. We stopped on the far edge of the property, and he looked back down at me. “What do you want to do about Warren?”
“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t want to marry into that situation, but—”
“Then don’t,” he said firmly. “That’s all I had to hear.”
I eyed him warily. “What are you going to do?”
“Protect you from him. Keep him out of your schedule and put other suitors in. Maybe there’ll be someone else you like.”
I supposed he was right, but as we stood there, I doubted it. Because suddenly, I was pretty sure why every gentleman I’d met in the last week had seemed so lackluster. I was comparing everyone to Cedric—and there was no comparison.
“Your father isn’t going to like your excluding Warren,” I warned. “He’ll fight you on it.”
“Probably. But remember, it’s always your choice. You can choose someone else—someone not holding a secret over you—even if he doesn’t have as much money to give.”
/>
When we reached the house, Cedric told me he’d be going around to the front door and that no one would think anything of him coming in late after allegedly being out on the town with friends.
“Really?” I asked, unable to hide my bitterness. “How nice, to have no limitations on your movements. Meanwhile, every move we girls make is scrutinized.”
“Hey, our job is to protect your virtue . . .”
Faint light from the house illuminated his features, and I saw his smile fade as he reflected that he had not, perhaps, done such a good job at that tonight.
“Well,” I said. “At least your intentions were good.”
“That depends on which intentions you’re talking about.” He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and looked up at the sky, his gaze resting on the moon. “Do you know why the six wayward angels fell?”
“I know what the priests say. It’s probably not what you’ll say.”
“Alanziel and Deanziel were the first two to rebel. They fell in love, but that wasn’t allowed, not for angels. They were supposed to be above human passions, but their love was so great, they were willing to defy the laws of gods and men. Uros banished them, and the other four wayward angels soon followed. They refused to close themselves off to emotion. They wanted to embrace the feelings within them and guide mortals to do the same.”
I held my breath as he spoke, not sure what I was waiting for.
Cedric pointed at the moon. “Uros didn’t just ban Alanziel and Deanziel from the divine realms for succumbing to their passions. They were banned from each other too. She is the sun, and he is the moon. And they’re never together. Sometimes, at the right time of day, they can catch a glimpse of each other across the sky. Nothing more.”
I exhaled. “What about during an eclipse?”
He took so long to answer that I thought he hadn’t heard me. Then: “Those don’t really happen every day.”
“Seems like it’d only need to happen once.”