Prince of Shadow and Ash

by Selina R. Gonzalez

  Her pulse racing, she reached for the handle. The moment of truth. Her fingers closed around the hilt—

  Knocking echoed from the door, and Adelaide jumped. The dagger vanished. She threw her head back and groaned. No! I was so close! She placed the Compendium back under the other books and unlocked the door.

  Giselle walked in carrying a basket of clean clothes. “Everything all right, m’lady?”

  “Of course. Just doing some reading.”

  Chapter 8

  THE DAY WAS CLOUDY but warm, and the smell of earth and new leaves and grass filled the air. Regulus adjusted his back against the tree trunk. Above him, the oak leaves stood out bright green against the pale gray clouds.

  “If I were you, I’d call on her.” Jerrick slouched against the rail fence encircling the archery range behind the castle and bit into another bread roll. A dull thunk sounded as Dresden threw another knife at the archery target.

  Originally from Bhitra, Jerrick Faras’ accent made his vowels sound long and his consonants hard. He was about average height and muscular and could wield a battle-axe with deadly precision. His short black hair clung to his head in tight curls. He favored brightly dyed fabrics because of how well they contrasted with his dark skin. Today he wore a yellow tunic Regulus would never dream of attempting to wear.

  “Call on her?”

  “Yes,” Jerrick said around a mouthful of bread. “Go visit her at the Drummonds’ like a man.”

  “That’s what I’ve been telling him!” Dresden threw his hands up in exasperation. He stood on the other side of the fence, inside the archery range. He didn’t have his bow today, though, just the knives stuck in the top rail of the fence. “I told you, she wants to talk to you!”

  “Because you lied to her. I didn’t ask you to say anything. I didn’t even speak to you before I left!”

  “Ah, but was I wrong?” Dresden pulled another throwing knife out of the top rail of the fence. “You enjoyed your conversation and regretted leaving early. That’s not a lie. And she likes you. I’m sure of it. So do something.”

  “I sent her that letter you forced me to write.” Regulus pulled at a handful of grass.

  Dresden rolled his eyes. “Which you also addressed to her mother like a dunce.”

  Regulus threw the grass over the fence at Drez, his irritation rising. What did it matter? Romance wasn’t his lot in life. Servitude was.

  “Drez knows what he’s talking about,” Jerrick said. “I’d know. I have a wife.”

  “See?” Dresden slapped Jerrick’s shoulder and turned back toward the canvas-covered wooden target. He threw the knife in a swift motion, and it buried at the edge of the red center of the target near three other knives.

  Regulus nodded at Dresden’s target. “I see Estevan’s lessons are paying off.”

  “Yes, just don’t tell him that. He already walks with enough of a swagger.” Drez pulled out another knife and shook it at Regulus. “But you’re trying to change the subject. Do what Jerrick would do.”

  “If I recall, Jerrick, your courtship, for lack of a better term, consisted of you claiming you visited the same baker every day because he had the best bread you’d ever tasted when you were actually trying to seduce his daughter.” Regulus grinned, propped his hands behind his head, and leaned back against the oak trunk.

  “Hey.” Jerrick pointed at Regulus, still holding a half-eaten roll. “He did have the best bread. He also had the most beautiful daughter. Now I have the best wife and the best bread.” He bit into the roll and wagged his finger at Regulus. “Don’t underestimate the power of freshly baked bread.”

  “There you go.” Dresden spread out his hands. “Send her Sarah’s rolls. You’ll win her heart in no time.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Although, sending Adelaide some nalotavi might not be the worst idea. He swatted a beetle off his pant leg. No, sending her anything is a bad idea. “We barely spoke.”

  “And yet you can’t stop thinking about her,” Drez teased.

  Regulus closed his eyes, picturing Adelaide’s brown eyes, her soft-looking dark hair. The way she smiled at him. He remembered Nolan Carrick, standing close to her, his hand on her back... He opened his eyes. “So? I’m sure she’s forgotten all about me.”

  “Well, you haven’t done much to keep yourself in her thoughts,” Jerrick said. “It’s been two weeks since the letter. At this point, sending her rolls would be an improvement.”

  Footsteps from the opposite side of the garden drew Regulus’ attention away from Jerrick. Perceval Williamson clomped toward them, scowling. He was older than Regulus by a few years, and his repeatedly broken nose had odd bumps. Perceval must have been working the fields around his and Leonora’s cottage again, because his face sported a light sunburn under his short, stiff brown hair.

  Regulus stood. “What’s happened?”

  “You’ve been snubbed, Captain.” Despite no longer being mercenaries, and despite the fact he’d asked his friends to call him Regulus, Perceval still insisted on calling him Captain. Perceval waved a folded letter. “The Carricks are hosting a party next week, and it doesn’t seem you’re invited.”

  “Etiros above, I thought we might have a problem on our borders or something serious.” Regulus shrugged. “So? The Carricks never invite me. Carrick’s a baron, he can choose not to invite a lesser noble. Besides, I hate parties.”

  “True.” Perceval grinned, his eyebrows lifting like he had a secret. “But those parties usually don’t have a certain dark-haired lady in attendance.”

  “Adelaide will be there?” Regulus regretted how eager he sounded as Drez smirked. He reached over the fence and smacked the back of Dresden’s head.

  “Indeed.” Perceval handed Regulus the letter. Lord Regulus Hargreaves of Arrano was written across the front in curling script.

  “I thought you said I wasn’t invited?” Regulus flipped it over and sighed when he saw the broken seal. “Is it so hard for you all not to read my personal correspondence?”

  “Didn’t recognize the seal,” Perceval grunted. “Precautionary measure.”

  “What can a letter do to me, Perce?” Regulus eyed the rearing unicorn impressed on the torn red wax. He didn’t recognize it, either. He unfolded the parchment.

  Dear Lord Regulus Hargreaves,

  I apologize I did not write sooner. I hope you don’t think I bear you any ill-will for needing to leave early, although I wish you’d said goodbye. I hope to continue our conversation at Baron Carrick’s party. I do hope you’ll stay longer. Perhaps I can discover if you are as good a dancer as you are a conversationalist.

  Signed,

  Lady Adelaide Belanger

  Regulus’ heart about stopped. As he reread the letter, his emotions jumped from elated to defeated. Adelaide wanted to see him again. She wanted to talk to him. She wanted to dance with him. But he had received no invite. He stared at the gentle curves of her signature. Wait. He jerked his head up and glared at Perceval. “You read this?”

  Perceval held up his hands. “How was I supposed to know it was from Lady Belanger?”

  “Wait, what?” Dresden leaned over the fence, trying to read the note. Regulus shoved the letter into his belt.

  “Lady Belanger wants to dance with the Captain,” Perceval said with a chuckle.

  Regulus’ face heated. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t show up uninvited.” And she’ll realize what a poor choice I am when she knows I wasn’t invited.

  “Can’t you though?” Perceval grinned, a manic light behind his eyes. “It’s so fun to rile the nobles. You should have seen the look on my father’s face when I showed up to a supper party drunk.”

  “And to think you didn’t do well at university,” Jerrick said with mock amazement.

  “No,” Dresden said, turning the throwing knife over in his hand thoughtfully. “But, when the Carricks host a party, the other nobles feel they have to reciprocate. You should get invited to at least a couple of those pa
rties. This is excellent. Oh, you’ll get another chance to woo the lovely Adelaide.”

  “I’m not going to woo her, Drez.”

  “Then by Hallilek,” Jerrick invoked the Bhitran deity with a perplexed expression, “why are we having this conversation?”

  Dresden leaned his hip against the fence. “And why not?”

  “You know why not.” Because I’m a monster.

  Jerrick and Perceval shifted and glanced at each other.

  “We talked about this, Reg,” Drez said quietly. “Perce, Jerrick, back me up. He can’t hide here forever.”

  Perceval grunted. “You need a wife.”

  “Might give you something to look forward to,” Jerrick said. “Make life more bearable.”

  “Or someone else to hurt.” Regulus shook his head. “I shouldn’t have written that letter.”

  “Then why’d you do it?” Dresden snapped.

  Regulus poked his finger in a knot in the fence and avoided Dresden’s intense regard. Because I like her; because I wanted to. Because she said she didn’t care about my bastardy. Because, for a moment, I pretended I was normal, and it felt good. “Moment of weakness.”

  “Doing something because it brings you joy isn’t weakness.” Drez sighed and scratched his beard. “It was one time. The sorcerer controlled you once in two years. And you know how to avoid it happening again.”

  Regulus snorted. If only you knew. “One time, but I still almost—” He stopped as the mark on his right arm tingled, like the gentlest touch of the points of a thousand needles. He grabbed his arm and grimaced.

  “The mark?” Dresden murmured.

  Regulus nodded. His men watched him leave in silence. There was nothing to say; nothing they could do. Nothing that wouldn’t make things worse, anyway. Up in his room, Regulus unlocked the chest that housed the black suit of armor and a bronze mirror. The rectangular mirror was just larger than Regulus’ head, with a plain frame. He hesitated before he picked it up and placed it on a nail on the wall.

  “I’m here, my lord.”

  The mirror shimmered and an image of the sorcerer replaced the burnished surface. “Excellent.” Deep shadows hid the sorcerer’s eyes beneath his ever-present hood. “I need you to go to the Singing Caves. There’s a cave marked by a white elm with golden leaves. Enter it and retrieve a relic from the dragon’s horde.”

  “The what?” Regulus gaped at the sorcerer.

  “The dragon, the dragon!” The sorcerer waved his hands. “Kill the dragon if necessary, find the relic it is guarding, and bring it to me.”

  Regulus massaged his temples. An actual dragon? “But—”

  Pain sliced up his arm from the mark.

  “Question,” he gasped. “Not—defiance.” The pain vanished. “Don’t dragons usually have piles of treasure, my lord? How will I recognize the relic?”

  The sorcerer harrumphed. “It will be separate from the other treasures, perhaps even displayed in a difficult-to-reach area. And, it looks like this.” He held a parchment in front of the mirror. A drawing of what looked like a hollow oval composed of thick wire swirling into a rounded point at each end filled the mirror. The sorcerer waited a moment, then pulled the drawing away. “It shouldn’t be hard to find, if you have half a brain.”

  Regulus’ shoulders tensed as he tried to hide his indignation. He could not afford to anger the sorcerer with his men so close. “Anything else I should know?”

  “Just that it’s powerful, so if you let that dragon destroy it, I’ll destroy you. And I want it quickly. It will take you a couple days to ride to the Caves. Best leave now.” The image shimmered and reverted to a dull mirror. Regulus’ hazy reflection stared back. Judging him.

  A powerful relic guarded by a dragon sounded ominous. Evil. Giving the sorcerer more power seemed a mistake. But what else could he do? I can’t resist him. Regulus rubbed the mark through his sleeve. I’ve tried.

  He sank onto his bed and pulled out Adelaide’s letter. He touched her signature and let himself imagine dancing with her, holding her. It was flattering she thought he would be invited. Would she mind that he wasn’t? He looked up at the mirror. It didn’t matter. No woman deserved a sorcerer’s slave. Regulus’ heart clenched as he ripped the letter in half.

  Chapter 9

  ADELAIDE LEANED OUT of the carriage window as they approached the Carrick’s massive castle. Fading daylight cast an orange glow over the long, wide drive lined with chestnut trees and filled with other carriages and riders. The deep, crenelated wall encompassing the castle, extensive gardens, and courtyards stood three stories tall. Towers emerged above the wall about every fifty paces. The bottom of a portcullis peeked out of the archway above the towering iron-covered front gates. A water fountain depicting a mermaid holding a giant shell over her head dominated the courtyard.

  The castle itself was four stories tall and square, with large, round five-story-tall towers at each corner. Crenellations wrapped around the entirety of the castle. Pale limestone formed the edifice, including the gargoyles and grotesques depicting mythical creatures spaced along the top of the castle. Not for nothing were the Carricks known as the wealthiest baronial family in Monparth. Rumor had it their wealth approached that of the ducal families.

  Carriages, horses, and servants filled the courtyard. The sound of creaking carriages, hoof-beats, neighs, bubbling water, and chatter echoed against the walls of the castle. Smoke from the myriad of torches arranged around the courtyard wafted in the air. A servant greeted their party, directing others to see to their mounts and baggage. Adelaide turned around, wide-eyed, taking in everything. And she thought Father’s castle was impressive. Minerva shook Adelaide’s shoulder, diverting her attention from the displays of power. They were being escorted inside.

  Inside was just as grand. The foyer sported vaulted ceilings and brightly colored tapestries covered stone walls. Coats of armor and bronze statues stood guard in the halls. A marble statue of an embracing woman and man on the brink of sharing a kiss stood on a large limestone pedestal in the center of the foyer. Adelaide slowed to a stop, marveling at the intricate detail on their simple, draping clothes. They even had fingernails.

  “It’s a beautiful piece,” a male voice said near her shoulder. Adelaide jumped and turned toward the speaker. Nolan simpered. “Apologies. I didn’t mean to startle you, Lady Adelaide.”

  “Sir Carrick.” She smiled and curtsied, but her pulse hammered behind her temple.

  “I thought we had agreed on Nolan?” He looked up at the statue. “My father acquired this when he was fighting in the Trade War. I understand your father won a good deal of his fortune in that conflict.”

  “Yes.” Adelaide fixed her gaze on the marble curls of the woman’s hair. “King Olfan was generous in rewarding his bravery.” She hated when people made it sound like her father was a mere robber warrior, even if war spoils had added to his wealth.

  “He met your mother while in Carasom, is that correct?”

  “Yes. She was traveling with her father.” Adelaide braced herself for the inevitable casual judgment of her mother’s non-noble lineage.

  “She must have made quite an impression. You take after her—impossible to ignore.”

  Wait...what? She glanced sideways at Nolan. His mouth curved up in a slight smile and his eyes glinted as his gaze wandered over her. Her cheeks flushed, and she looked back to the statue.

  Nolan laughed. “Don’t be shy.” He gestured to the statue. “Beautiful things are meant to be admired.”

  “Pardon me, Sir Carrick.” Adelaide was relieved to hear Lady Drummond’s voice. “But I’m afraid I must steal Lady Belanger. We were just on our way to our quarters.”

  “Ah, forgive me.” Nolan bowed and swept up Adelaide’s hand, brushing a kiss against her fingers. He smiled as he released her hand. “I look forward to seeing you at supper.”

  As they followed a maid down the hall, Lady Drummond smiled conspiratorially. “I believe Sir Nolan has it in mind to c
ourt you, dear girl. Lucky you!”

  “Yes,” Adelaide murmured. “Lucky me.”

  They had just enough time to get dressed and freshen their hair before heading down for the banquet. Adelaide wore a light blue dress with fitted sleeves under a sleeveless silk overdress of dark blue, comprised of two long pieces of fabric sewn together at her shoulders and laced together at her sides with a thick crimson satin cord. A braided crimson and gold belt tied in front, the long tails hanging down almost to the bottom of the dress. A single teardrop-shaped sapphire hung on the end of her thin gold necklace. The outfit had been a gift from Lady Drummond, made for Adelaide expressly for the Carrick’s party. She could only guess Lady Drummond worried she would choose something too Khastallander and embarrass the Drummonds.

  As the guests entered the great hall, servants showed them to their seats. To Adelaide’s confusion, a page beckoned her in a different direction than her sister and Lady Drummond. “Pardon me, are we headed the right direction?”

  The boy looked over his shoulder. “Yes, my lady. This way, my lady.” They walked toward the head of the hall.

  “I think you may have me confused with someone else. Lady Adelaide Belanger. I’m here with my sister, Lady Minerva Drummond, and the Drummonds?” She looked around for them, spotting them moving to their seats at a long table on the side of the hall. “I think a mistake has been made—”

  “No mistake, Lady Adelaide.” Nolan flashed a cavalier smile as he walked up beside her. “You are seated next to me.”

  Adelaide blinked, trying to hide her surprise. Nolan had changed as well. He now wore a royal blue knee-length tunic lined with crimson and pale blue stockings. A sword hung at his hip from an intricately engraved leather belt with a gold buckle. A gold brooch of a gryphon, the symbol of the Carrick family, secured a blue half cape to his right shoulder. He offered her his arm.