The Longest Night: A Drake Chronicles Novella by Alyxandra Harvey Page A

and still holding what was left of her mother’s keepsake, Emma forced
     herself to go deeper into the scented shadows. If only to prove to herself that she
     wasn’t one of those girls who were afraid of every little thing.
    Although sometimes, fear was the only logical response.
    And not only because the ground lurched under her feet, as if it had turned into the
     deck of a ship in a storm. She grabbed the nearest table to steady herself. Pots of
     orchids rattled together. The room lurched again, making her belly drop. Her ears
     popped. A vase of calla lilies tumbled to the polished floor and shattered. She felt
     as if there was ice melting off her, or invisible chains falling away. It was the
     strangest thing.
    But still not as strange as a girl stumbling out of the leaves, covered in blood.

Chapter 2

    She crumpled before Emma
could reach her.
    The girl’s brown hair fell in ringlets out of its pins, dragging on the ground. Her
     eyelids fluttered. Emma thought her name was Margaret, but couldn’t recall for certain.
     They’d made their curtsies to the queen together last month, wearing ostrich feathers
     and ridiculous court-ordained panniers.
    Now she was wearing blood.
    Emma dropped to her knees beside her. “Where are you hurt?”
    Margaret moaned, managing to open her eyes. “I don’t know.” She jerked suddenly and
     began to weep. “Feels like the time I fell out of a tree when I was little. Broke
     my collarbone.”
    Emma gingerly pushed her hair off her shoulder, wincing at the bump protruding under
     Margaret’s pale skin. “You’ve broken it again. The earthquake must have knocked you
     off your feet.”
    She shook her head. “No, there was . . . can you feel it? It’s so cold.”
    Pain must be confusing the poor girl. And no wonder. Blood filled the hollow of her
     cracked collarbone and dripped down her arm, soaking into her gloves. It looked worse
     than it had just a second ago. “I’ll get help.” Emma leaped to her feet.
    She rushed down the path, clutching the hem of her gown so it wouldn’t trip her up.
     “I need a doctor,” she called out, sliding the last few feet along the slippery flagstones.
     She could hear agitated voices in the ballroom. “Someone help—” She crashed into a
     man just inside the door, partially obscured by ferns. He caught her in his arms,
     steadying her.
    “Not that way, love. The tremor knocked a candle into the curtains. Ballroom’s on
     fire.”
    She recognized the voice and stifled a groan. “Not you,” she muttered.
    Anyone but Cormac Fairfax, Viscount Blackburn, heir to the Earl of Haworth.
    They hadn’t said more than a word to each other in months, not since that night in
     the gardens when he’d kissed her. The next week he’d gone away to school and refused
     her letters and turned away whenever she entered the room.
    She still had a fierce desire to kick him.
    He’d recently turned nineteen, and was tall with strong shoulders under his navy blue
     coat. His cravat was simply knotted and blindingly white under a severe jawline. His
     dark hair was tousled, and his eyes narrowed with disgust. She’d hoped he’d gotten
     ugly since she’d seen him last, at Lilybeth’s dismally boring birthday celebration.
    No such luck.
    He was just as handsome, just as lean, but the edge of danger was new. She wished
     it was unattractive. He raised an eyebrow and looked ready to make some pithy comment
     when he noticed the blood on her thumb. He seized her wrists. “You’re hurt.”
    She squirmed in his grasp. “I am now,” she said, trying to break free. “Let go.”
    He was too busy staring in horror at the broken perfume bottle she was clutching.
     She had to admit the odor was unpleasant but it didn’t deserve that kind of reaction,
     surely. Especially not with wisps of smoke starting to drift out of the ballroom behind
     him.
    “Where did you get that?” he asked, oblivious to the danger.
    “Never mind that,” she snapped.