Prince of Shadow and Ash

by Selina R. Gonzalez

  If she could learn to control her power, she could protect herself. Right? Unwanted images of bloody, glassy-eyed bandits popped into her mind. She pushed them away. Maybe she could defend herself without killing. It might be easier with magic. And she might not always have her dagger and knives. Now she had a way to learn. So far, she had managed to create blue-tinted light, fire, and on a few occasions, a solid blast of light capable of knocking over a heavy object, like a full trunk. But she had no idea what else she was even capable of doing and finding time to test herself when no one would catch her was difficult.

  Mother wouldn’t approve. But...it was part of her, wasn’t it? Mother taught her to use daggers and throwing knives, just like every other Khastallander mother, all the way in Monparth, because Mother was Khastallander. Mother would not deny her culture, her identity, even after marrying Father and moving to Monparth. And I am a mage. Whether or not my parents like it. Whether I am the last mage alive in Monparth or not. Etiros had seen fit to make her a mage. How could she deny a part of herself?

  She looked at the book in her hands. Just parchment, leather, metal and ink. Like any book on the shelves. But so much more. Knowledge and power and more control of her life. She smiled and added it to her small pile.

  THE FOURTH DAY AFTER their arrival, the Drummonds hosted a supper party in their honor. Adelaide tended to dislike these social gatherings. People hid behind carved smiles and pleasant lies. Plus, Lady Drummond had requested she recite. A common enough request. Adelaide had been to many feasts where a member of the nobility would recite a poem or ballade—usually a legend of Monparth, sometimes a romance. It was an accepted way of thanking your host. But she had never volunteered.

  What would people truly think as they watched her? Would they see her as any other noble performing a recitation? Or would they focus on the warm brown of her skin? The occasional Khastallander roundness of a vowel that always seemed to appear when she got nervous? Minerva said she was too self-conscious, but then, Minerva wasn’t as tall as most men, and blended in better with the Monparthians than Adelaide. But it would be rude to refuse. And if being Khastallander didn’t bother Mother, it wouldn’t bother her, either.

  The day of the party, Adelaide wandered into the sitting room where Minerva and Mother were discussing pregnancy and babies. She joined them on the sunlit couch and hugged a pillow edged in aqua tassels to her chest. “Anyone interesting coming tonight?”

  “Don’t be in too big a rush to find a suitor,” Mother said without looking up from stitching a baby blanket.

  Adelaide blushed. “That’s not what I meant!” Although, I’m not uninterested...

  There were many reasons Adelaide wasn’t married, why she had never had a proper suitor. Several older siblings, for one. For another, noble Monparthian men showed less interest in a half-Khastallander with brown skin. She knew her half-noble blood made some see her as an inferior choice. Other times she suspected the men who flirted with her simply found her foreign appearance intriguing. Minerva had experienced the same issues, although her marriage to Gaius had given Adelaide hope again. But there were other reasons.

  One main one.

  Courting was difficult when she had a secret to keep. She couldn’t court someone she didn’t trust, but how could she know if she trusted someone enough to tell him the truth about her magic until she courted him?

  “Let’s see...” Minerva said. “Baron and Baroness Carrick. Maybe their eldest son, Lord Carrick and his wife? I’m not sure if they could make it. I believe the baron’s youngest son is coming, Sir Nolan.” Minerva gave her a saucy grin. “That reminds me, Lady Drummond says to tell you he’s twenty-seven and very eligible.”

  “Oh, really?” Adelaide smirked back.

  “Yes, but also a flirt and a scoundrel, I’ve heard. So...be careful, I suppose.” Minerva thought for a moment. “Lord and Lady Russelthorn. Several other knights and ladies. Lord and Lady Drummond took care of the invites and all the planning.” Her fingertips traced circles on her stomach. “I am immensely grateful. Having to deal with these social niceties and remember everyone when some mornings I couldn’t stand up straight would have been a nightmare.”

  “I wish we didn’t have to meet everyone.” Adelaide rested her chin on the pillow. “We’re here to see you, not strangers.”

  Mother frowned. “And I thought I taught you better manners.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll be perfectly polite.” Adelaide fiddled with the tassels on the pillow. “I just hope the conversation is more interesting than,” she went into an affected falsetto, “yes, the weather has been lovely. I understand the tournament in Red Falls is spectacular, I may go this year.”

  Minerva chuckled and Mother shook her head, smiling.

  “Well, the tournament in Red Falls is spectacular.”

  Adelaide jumped at the sound of Gaius’ voice behind her. She looked back and spotted him standing in the doorway. “Ah...how long have you been standing there?”

  Gaius laughed as he walked over to Minerva. “Long enough to know you have low expectations for the conversation this evening.” He kissed the top of Minerva’s head. “Mother sent me to let you all know the guests will start arriving in about two hours, and to recommend you get dressed.”

  “All right.” Minerva stood. “I’ll see you in a couple hours.” She winked at Adelaide. “And I promise I’ll bring my best conversational skills.”

  ADELAIDE FIDGETED WITH the azure silk scarf. Nothing she did with it felt right. Draped in front? No. In back? No. Over her head...? Definitely not. Wrapped around her shoulders? Too slippery. In the crook of her elbows? Too awkward. What was she supposed to do with it? But Lady Drummond had given it to her as a gift, so she couldn’t go without it.

  “You look fine, dear.” Mother whispered as they stood in the foyer waiting for the guests to enter. “Stop fidgeting.”

  Various knights and ladies whose names she would never remember greeted her and Mother in the entrance hall. Adelaide smiled and curtsied and fussed with her scarf. She had moved it down to her elbows when one end slid out and fell behind her. She curtsied to a Sir Mowbray and Dame Mowbray, ignoring the trailing scarf. After they passed by, she looked down and behind her, searching for the end of the scarf and losing the other end. Darn slippery thing. She stepped to the side, trying to spot the scarf on the ground.

  There. All right. I need to find a way to retrieve it quickly when no one is looking—

  A man’s boots appeared on the other side of the scarf, and Adelaide’s eyes widened. The man crouched down and picked up the scarf. Oh, the embarrassment. Her cheeks burned as the man held the scarf out to her. She reached for it, looking up at the man who had retrieved it.

  He was tall. So tall. For the first time, she felt almost...diminutive. She guessed he must be nearing thirty years old. He wore a black jerkin over a dark green long-sleeved tunic with sleeves that pulled across his muscles. Thick black hair hung in loose curls around his ears and neck. He was clean-shaven, with a sharp jaw and high, angular cheekbones. A rough pinkish scar ran diagonally across his right cheek, from under the outside corner of his eye to the corner of his lips before it curved down his chin to his jawline. His brows furrowed together. But her gaze fixed on the way his light gray irises caught the fading sunlight, almost seeming to have a light of their own. Dark lashes framed his eyes, drawing attention to the piercing ferocity behind them.

  “I believe this is yours?” His voice was clear, deep, and warm.

  She gingerly took the scarf, her stomach twisting. “Thank you.” The words came out in a horrifying squeak and the heat in her face spread to her ears.

  “Pardon me,” a man’s voice said behind him, brimming with condescension. “But you and your man here are blocking the way.”

  Adelaide hadn’t even registered the man standing to the scarred man’s left. He had a deep olive complexion, aquiline nose, and thick, dark beard trimmed close to his face. The bearded man frowned at the i
mpatient guest behind them.

  The handsome man with the scar looked over his shoulder. “Apologies.” He looked back to Adelaide and nodded. “My lady.” He turned into the great hall, followed by the bearded man.

  “Wait!” Adelaide’s chest tightened as she realized in a panic how loudly she had spoken. The men paused and looked back. “I...” Now is not the time to get all tongue-tied! “Um, that is... I apologize, I didn’t hear your name.”

  The man’s scarred lips turned up in a slight smile. “Oh. Lord Regulus Hargreaves of Arrano, my lady.” He inclined his head to her. “And my lieuten—um, one of my knights, Sir Dresden Jakobs.” He gestured to the man with the beard, who bowed.

  “Pardon me, my lady,” interrupted the same male voice, but in a much warmer tone. “Sir Nolan Carrick, at your service.”

  Adelaide looked over in surprise as Sir Carrick snatched up her hand and kissed her fingers. She curtsied, trying to mask her confusion. She glanced toward Lord Hargreaves, but he and his knight had disappeared into the main hall. “Adelaide Belanger.”

  Sir Carrick gave her a crooked smile. “I know. I am honored and most pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Belanger.”

  Nolan Carrick looked younger than the man with the scar, and far less battle-worn. He wasn’t much taller than her. A crimson doublet with ostentatious silver stitching covered a black shirt that clung to strong arms. He had a square face, with a clean-shaven, defined jaw. With his blue eyes, well-combed light brown hair, he was fairly attractive. But Adelaide was so distracted thinking about the gray-eyed Lord Hargreaves of Arrano, she didn’t care.

  Nolan moved on, and Baron and Baroness Carrick entered next. A few more nobles of varying status arrived, and they all entered the dining hall. To Adelaide’s disappointment, Lord Hargreaves sat at a distant table. She wanted to ask Minerva about him but could hardly do so at supper.

  Finally, the fish, fowl, bread, and pudding courses were all finished. Lady Drummond invited her to recite. Nerves knotted her full stomach, but she curtsied and stood on the dais at the end of the table with Lord and Lady Drummond and Baron and Baroness Carrick. Adelaide recited the Ballad of Elwynn and Leander, star-crossed lovers who died trying to bring peace to a kingdom torn asunder by war. The assembled nobility applauded daintily when she finished. Now the difficult part of the evening: mingling.

  Chapter 5

  REGULUS KEPT LOOKING over at Adelaide during supper. His distraction prevented him from engaging in conversation, but no one at the table seemed interested in talking with him, anyway. Dresden elbowed him in the side.

  “She’s going to catch you staring,” he whispered. “Ease up a little. You don’t want to scare her.”

  As if that mattered. He glanced across the hall at Sir Mowbray. A little over two years ago, Mowbray had hired Regulus as a mercenary. Now Regulus was a lord—Mowbray’s superior. The pointed way Mowbray ignored Regulus at social events made Mowbray’s feelings on the matter clear.

  Everyone seems to either fear or hate me. Certainly no one trusts me. I’m just the bastard mercenary to them. These people will tell Adelaide what they think of me, and then she won’t so much as look my way. Like everyone else. Not to mention that while the sorcerer’s mark marred his arm, he shouldn’t want her to look his way. But he did.

  He couldn’t help himself—she was lovely. He hadn’t expected to find her so attractive. Her height surprised him. Fine, it was superficial, but he liked a tall woman. Most women looked small and fragile; like he could accidently crush them even without his enhanced strength. He didn’t get that feeling from her. She felt solid and...magnetic. Her thick black hair escaped from her hairpins, wavy strands brushing against her round face and cheeks. Her complexion was darker than Dresden’s, and even if he hadn’t met her mother, he saw the Khastallander in her. He’d enjoyed his time in Khastalland. By and large, he had found Khastallanders to be a sincere and passionate people.

  After supper, Adelaide stood to do a recitation. Her gray-blue dress had a wide, scooping neckline that showed off her shoulders and collarbones without being showy, but still hugged her figure. A wide V-shaped brass belt accentuated her waist. She kept fiddling with the bright blue scarf she had dropped earlier as she recited a poem whose words Regulus barely comprehended. He was too busy telling himself stop thinking about how beautiful she is. Stop. The sorcerer won’t care if she’s angelic or a hag, he’d just care if hurting her would hurt me. But as Adelaide spoke, saying something about lovers and sacrifice, her gaze momentarily met his. What was I thinking about again?

  Her clear, low voice washed over him, releasing tension in his muscles. He had never been so relaxed when surrounded by other nobles. He could have sat there and listened to her all night. No. He was doing this to please Drez, nothing more. When she finished and people rose to move around and socialize, Dresden punched him on the shoulder.

  “So, are you going to sit here frowning, or are you going to go talk to her?”

  Regulus forced his face to relax. He felt uncomfortably warm. “I’m not frowning.”

  “You’re always frowning.” Drez gestured in Adelaide’s direction. “Go. You gave your word.”

  “Hmph.” But he stood and walked toward where Adelaide stood near the dais. He kept his word. And he owed Dresden.

  Regulus was acutely aware of the nobles watching him and whispering as he passed. He swallowed back the urge to leave. If only she weren’t standing at the head of the room. To his relief, she stepped over toward the corner after ending her conversation with an older couple.

  Adelaide stared up at a stained-glass window with a floral vine design. With the sun set, the details of the design were difficult to see. Flickering orange light from a nearby tall iron candelabra reflected in the glasswork, but that didn’t seem worthy of her undivided attention. Perhaps she didn’t want to talk to anyone. He glanced at Dresden, who held up his hands as if asking what are you waiting for?

  “Lady Belanger?”

  She turned toward him and smiled. At him. Like she was pleased. “Oh. Lord Arrano. Or is it Lord Hargreaves? I...um...thank you. For saving my scarf.” She blushed and waved the end of the scarf in his direction, looking about as awkward as he felt. He smiled in amusement.

  A little flirting would please Drez...

  “Of course. And it’s Hargreaves. I’m just lord of Arrano estate.” Regulus cleared his throat. “Your recite...reciting...you have a lovely voice for recitation.” Oh, this is going smoothly. He clasped his hands behind his back. Sweat tickled his neck. “One of the loveliest things I’ve ever heard.”

  She blinked. “One of? I’ve already had four people tell me it was the most beautiful thing they’ve had the pleasure of hearing.”

  Regulus glanced away. For once, he wished he knew how to talk like the nobles.

  Adelaide laughed. “Of course, every one of them was lying.”

  He looked back at her and furrowed his brow, surprised both by her relaxed laughter and her bluntness.

  “I mean, really. The way some people go on, you would suppose I was an angel, which is ridiculous. So. What was it, then?” She pulled her scarf up over her shoulders.

  “What was what?” His mind raced to catch up, still stuck on the possibility of Adelaide being an angel.

  “The most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard?”

  He paused. He didn’t need to consider the answer, but whether or not to share. “It’s a long story, but laughing while crying. Joy overpowering sorrow.” He stared into the distance. “I’ll never forget that sound. The relief, the happiness. That’s what I think freedom sounds like.”

  “That’s...beautiful.” She looked thoughtful, her lips turned up in a slight smile. For a moment, they just looked at each other.

  “So...” He laughed nervously. So what, Regulus! Where were you going with this? Why couldn’t he think straight? This is your fault, Drez.

  “My father and mother laughing.”

  He blinked. “What?” />
  “The most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. My parents giggling like newly-weds when they don’t know anyone is around. Because it’s the sound of how much they love each other. It sounds like freedom—not caring what anyone else thinks.” She glanced away, then studied the scarf in her hands.

  “My father met my mother when he was away, fighting in the Trade War. His first wife had died a couple years prior. I’m glad they found each other.” Adelaide looked up at him, a stray curl of hair falling over her eye. She watched him as if weighing his reaction. “Whenever my stepsiblings or snobbish nobles look down on my mother because she’s the daughter of a traveling merchant from Khastalland, that sound gives me hope. None of that matters to my parents.”

  Regulus’ heart lurched in sympathy. “The nobles, they can be...” He trailed off before he said something he would regret. “People matter more than lineages. What’s the point in judging someone for something they can’t control?”

  “You sound like you mean that.” She tilted her head, her brows knit in contemplation and a slight smile on her pink lips.

  “Of course...” Ah. She doesn’t know what I am. How to tell her? Perhaps, of all people, she wouldn’t judge him for his bastardy. But a rich merchant’s daughter was a far cry from an unwed serving girl.

  Adelaide pulled her scarf tighter around her shoulders. “Earlier today I was complaining no one ever says anything interesting, and certainly never anything true, at these parties. I’m glad to be wrong.”

  He smiled, searching for something to say to keep the conversation going—and interesting, even though part of his brain warned him not to go getting attached. He couldn’t court her, regardless of what Dresden said. Right? But he was actually enjoying himself for once. “Your mother is Khastallander?”