Chapter 5 New Beginnings
Chapter five
New Beginnings
Adriana
Adriana’s dark blonde hair whipped around her, falling out of her braid as her horse sped through the trees surrounding her home. The woods were thick, with towering oak trees and lush ferns. The sun was shining brightly, and the wind blew strong, causing the leaves to fall and float around her.
Summer had finally arrived. After such a long winter and cold spring, she was grateful for the warmth to return.
She was not permitted to ride alone outside the grounds.
Her father would be most unimpressed if he were to find out she had convinced the stable boy, Jonathan, to give her a horse in payment of a kiss.
Adriana knew Jonathon was obsessed with her, not her character as such, but her status.
He clearly enjoyed the thrill of sneaking around with Lord Clarke’s daughter.
She hated that she’d resorted to such demeaning methods to get what she wanted, but she paid no mind to it when she was able to feel the sweet freedom of riding alone, without company and without rules.
And today, dressed in her dirtiest dress to hide her nobility, she had decided to ride into the nearby village to pick up more seeds for the gardens, though she knew she would likely spend most of her time in the local bookshop.
She had always been a lonely child, never had many friends.
Although, that was partly due to there being no other children in the house—aside from the families of staff who occasionally joined their parents at work.
But she had never felt alone, not with her great-grandmother by her side.
And her father, controlling as he tried to be, loved her dearly.
As she matured into a young woman, the suitors her father would arrange found her odd and, quite often, threatening.
She was clever, too clever for a woman in their eyes.
And her emotions ran too wild. She had not mastered the art of putting on a face to hide her feelings.
Her emotions were always extremely apparent within her expressions, particularly her disgust at the choices of roses one of the young men from the village had brought her one day.
Striga told her it was a beautiful thing, to feel as deeply as she did and never hide from it. But Adriana knew it was also her downfall. It meant she could not control her powers the same way in which Striga could.
She had destroyed old paintings or furniture in the house a few times, usually when she was angry or upset, by knocking them over with a strong force of air.
On one occasion, when an older gentleman had attempted to run his hand down her back to cup her backside at a ball, she had set fire to the curtains he stood beside.
All she had done was glare at him, and allowed her anger to boil and burn, and then suddenly he was surrounded by flames.
He wasn’t hurt. Fortunately, his steward stamped out the fire that had spread to the tails of his coat before they caused any damage. Although, Adriana would have liked to have seen him squeal some more.
Her father had been furious with her that night, scolding her for allowing her powers to be on display in front of the entire village.
He was accepting of her gifts, and allowed her to train her powers with Striga, but he hated the idea of Adriana getting hurt by others who only saw her as a Daemon.
Striga had helped calm him down, as she always did. And she had helped Adriana, as much as she could, to keep her fiery temper and the following sadness under control. Adriana only wished she could help her dear great-grandmother in the same way.
Thomas’ death had hit her hard, as expected.
Striga had spent weeks in isolation, avoiding contact with any of her family, until Adriana had thrown her door down with a gust of wind in a fit of anger, her Elementai ability strengthened from the floods of emotions she felt from losing her beloved great-grandfather.
She had come crashing into Striga’s room, tears streaming down her face, flames dancing around her fingertips, and fell to the floor by Striga’s bedside.
“Please,” she had cried. “I cannot lose you, too.”
So Striga had carried on, enduring every lonely day without her love, to help her great-granddaughter.
And with her training, Adriana’s Incantrix brand had become clearer and darker down her spine as she’d grown older, her powers evidently growing stronger by the day.
She knew she would take over from Striga one day, that she would take her seat on the Incantrix Court.
According to Striga, one of Divina’s final visions before her unfortunate death spoke of the important role Adriana would play in the wars to come.
It was a lot to carry on her shoulders, a burden she still didn’t quite yet fully understand, and she only wished she were strong enough to be the person she needed to be.
The only time Adriana really felt free, free from society and free from the weight of her powers and emotions, was when she was alone in nature.
And so she had taken the old beaten path through the woods rather than the roads that led to the town, allowing herself just a few moments to herself to feel at ease.
Adriana hauled back on the reins as she spotted two carriages along the side of the road leading back towards her home.
Her horse came to a stop at her command, still under the shade of the trees, where she watched a finely dressed man step out of the first carriage.
He knelt down beside it, inspecting the broken front wheel that stuck out at an unnatural angle, before looking over his shoulder towards the busy village.
Then, with a swift movement, so fast Adriana might have missed it if she’d blinked, he lifted the entire weight of the carriage and kicked the wheel back into place.
As he straightened, removing his hat to swipe a stray lock of dark hair from his brow, a strange feeling twisted in Adriana’s stomach. The sharp jaw, the dark features, it was all familiar to her.
He leant into the carriage, his mouth moving as he spoke to whoever was inside before wandering down a side street on the outskirts of the village, but Adriana was too far away to hear him.
She swung down from her horse, the worn leather of her saddle creaking softly, and followed him down the alleyway that he had disappeared into.
The narrow passage, flanked by damp stone walls slick with moss, stunk of stale ale and forgotten refuse.
A rhythmic squeak of a water pump grew louder as she rounded the corner, leading her to the small shadowed courtyard of a tavern she had secretly frequented a few times.
And there, hunched over the pump as he scrubbed his hands beneath the water with clear agitation, stood the same man she had met eight years ago.
Alexander Duran.
A sudden stillness fell over him. He straightened abruptly and removed the leather gloves he held between his teeth, his eyes narrowing like a predator scenting danger. But the feral intensity drained away instantly, replaced by a look of utter shock as his gaze locked onto Adriana.
“You,” he spoke, recognition flashing in his eyes. “I know you.”
Adriana swallowed as she gathered her thoughts, halting her steps to keep some distance and take a good look at the man.
She was used to most people being taller than her at her short height, but he was so tall the top of her head only came to the base of his throat.
He was dressed in an all black fine-fitted suit that hugged his strong, slim figure, with a high neckline and long sleeves.
As her eyes wandered to the dark swirling markings on his hands, he slowly pulled his black leather gloves on, hiding his Nocte brands from sight.
She brought her gaze back up to his face. His hair and his eyes were both such a deep brown, but had rich warm tones that shone in the sunlight that scattered through the buildings. His skin was a light golden brown, with dark stubble dusting across his jaw and above his full lips.
She had thought he was good looking when she met him, but she had been a child then.
Now, standing as a young woman, she knew without a doubt that Alexander Duran was the most beautiful man she had ever laid her eyes upon.
It wasn’t just his physical appearance, or the intense power she could sense surrounding him, that drew her in.
It was more than that, more than words could explain, and it was no wonder she had been unable to have any dreams over the last eight years without him appearing in them.
His stare never left her eyes, and she could feel his power poking at her mind, looking for a way into her thoughts.
A small shadow crept across from where he stood and slid across the ground to her foot before gliding around her ankle, making her jump slightly.
Though, it wasn’t menacing or threatening.
Despite its coldness, she could feel the warmth intended in its touch, as if it were greeting an old friend.
She steadied her gaze to meet his. “I would be disappointed if you had forgotten me,” she said confidently. “After all, eight years is but a blink of an eye to your kind, man in the shadows.”
Alexander merely smirked at her, his eyes crinkling in amusement as the realisation of exactly who she was seemed to settle upon him.
As his head tilted to the side, she felt his eyes looking her up and down, taking in her muddy skirts and riding boots, her hair haphazardly tied back into a braid that had begun to fall out, her dress cutting low on her chest where she had not bothered with a corset.
“Now, how did a servant girl from Lady Striga’s house break free of my power?”
She shifted under his scrutinising stare as she felt a strange feeling in her head, almost as if someone were politely knocking inside her mind. He seemed to notice her discomfort and pressed more, taking a slow step towards her.