The Ruin and Restoration of Harrison Fredrick | ONC 2021 |

Chapter Nine

When I awoke, Adeline told me I'd been unconscious for five days. I was lying in a bed in an unfamiliar room, and she was sitting in an armchair next to me, a book thrown carelessly to the floor. At least, she probably had been sitting, but now she was leaning over me, her face mere inches away from mine. Once she decided I was coherent she launched into a barrage of questions: how was I feeling, was I warm enough, was I too warm, could I speak, did I remember what happened?

By the time I got a single answer out, the most important one—yes, unfortunately, I did remember—the room was full of people. Most seemed to be maids and servants in Lestonshire livery. The other was Grandmother.

My heart went weak at the sight of her. She looked ten years older than the last time I'd seen her. Her dress was rumpled and stray hairs stuck out of the bun piled on top of her head. She felt my cheek, my forehead, checked my neck for a pulse. Satisfied, she said, "My boy," before beginning to cry.

I tried to sit up, but one of the maids told me to stay still until the doctor arrived. I settled for rubbing the back of her wrinkled hand. "I'm okay." My voice came out as coarse as a frog's. "Really."

Grandmother sat on the edge of the mattress. "By God's grace and mercy, don't ever do that to me again," she reprimanded. "If you had only told me about the magic...Oh, Harrison, I'm so sorry. I should have been more understanding. Please forgive me."

Nearly more stunned by that than Lissa's betrayal, I nodded and held her hand gently. "Of course."

I would have gone on, but at that moment the duke and duchess arrived with the doctor, who looked immensely relieved and a little wary of Grandmother. I wondered if she'd nagged him as much as she did me. The thought made me smile, which in turn eased Grandmother's worried frown a little.

The doctor, a kind old man, deemed me out of mortal danger and ordered another week of bed rest. I accepted his advice and thanked him, but once everyone was gone from the room to let me sleep—very reluctantly in Grandmother's case, to whom I had to promise three times I'd call for her the moment I woke up—I threw my head back onto the pillow and groaned. "A whole week?"

"I thought you'd be thrilled."

I jerked upright, making my head spin.

Adeline sat in the chair, watching me with her chin propped in her hand. "The betrothal will be well delayed. I'm sure with your trauma you could even convince Lady Allston to cancel the engagement entirely."

My heart leapt before sinking like a stone in the mud. "Oh."

"What's the matter?"

I wasn't sure. Isn't canceling the wedding exactly what I wanted? Part of me was relieved, but another part was disappointed. Dejected. I thought of how gently Adeline had told me about Melisande's spell, how fiercely she fought to protect me—which was also a tad embarrassing, but I wasn't in a position to be prideful right now and I certainly hadn't been then—and how she'd practically kept hold of my hands the entire time, comforting and soothing. I took a deep breath and forced myself to meet her eyes. "I don't want to cancel it."

Her eyes widened. "You don't?"

"I..." I swallowed hard and tried again. "I didn't want to marry you because I didn't know you, even before Lissa—...Melisande fed me lies and did whatever spell she did. I'm not saying I'll race you to the church, but maybe we could be friends first and...see how it goes? Is that even a thing with you nobility people?"

Adeline broke into a smile. "No, it isn't."

My hopes sank.

"But fighting a wicked magician who once tried to destroy your family and now wants to enchant your fiancé to have him all for herself isn't exactly 'a thing' either." She smoothed her skirts. "I'd be willing to wager that Lady Allston and my father and mother will be able to reach an agreement, especially since my parents now owe us a debt for making enough of a ruckus to alert them of what was going on before we were both helplessly in love with Melisande."

I made a face, which made Adeline laugh. It was a light and joyous sound that sent my chest fluttering and my magic spinning. "Pardon me," I said, "but I thought you were actually trying to kill her, not just make a lot of noise."

"Are you kidding? My father only began giving me swordsmanship lessons five months ago. My form was hideous and that sword was old and dreadfully unbalanced. Good thing it was the only one in the room. Melisande is a wretchedly skilled magician, but it's much more difficult to fight with magic against steel than you would expect."

I stared blankly. "You what?"

"Okay, so it was seven months ago, I'm a bit behind practice."

"A bit. I'm 'a bit' afraid to ask what else I don't know about you."

"Just as I'm wondering what I don't know about you."

I couldn't believe how stupidly wrong I'd been. Not about Adeline and the duke—I could forgive myself of that, someday. Lissa had me completely convinced she was my friend and ally, even before she'd put a spell on me. And why not, she was kind and a good listener, at least outwardly. But here, now, this conversation with Adeline, without any more presumptions or expectations hovering over us, just two people from opposite worlds sitting in a room together and talking—it was the easiest and most natural thing in the world.

I reached for her hand, and Adeline took it. I grinned and gave it a firm shake. "Well, Lady Adeline," I said, enjoying the surprised look on her face, "I'm so pleased to make your acquaintance. I'm the Earl of Hamblinshire, supposedly, but you can call me Harrison, because if anyone ever calls me 'Lord' again I might get a big head about it."

She burst into unrestrained, joyous laughter, and it was the sweetest thing I'd ever heard. "Oh no, Lord Fredrick, don't you know etiquette and correct use of titles are all that matters in the world?" She giggled, then continued over my exaggerated protests. "But it is such a pleasure to meet you. I look forward to our future meetings with great happiness."

I bowed over her hand and kissed it lightly. "As do I."