Prince of Shadow and Ash

by Selina R. Gonzalez

  Fear was a powerful motivator.

  The Prince ascended the stairs that wound around the interior of his tower, the top piece of the staff tucked under his arm. Willing slaves were considerably easier to control. He had required someone with a good heart to get past the magical enchantments around one of the other pieces, but he hadn’t expected a mercenary to be so stubbornly moral. The ones he had sent to slaughter Monparth’s mages had been bloodthirsty and grateful for the bond that let them dole out violence without risk to themselves. They had begged him not to release them, but he’d had no reason to let them leech from his sorcery after the mages were obliterated. Meanwhile, Hargreaves was desperate to lose his bond.

  The Prince snorted. Idiot.

  He set the gold oval topper next to the three rods that formed the rest of the staff. Only one piece left. He was close to deciphering its location. Some of what he’d discovered made him nervous, though. Potential complications to retrieving the final piece. Ah, well. He would solve that riddle when he heard it. Nothing would stop him from achieving his goal. Not this time.

  The Prince sat at his desk and opened a faded leather-bound journal, marked with water stains and discolored with age. The brittle pages crackled. He laid his new journal open next to it, dipped his quill in ink, and returned to the arduous task of translating the old Monparthian.

  He had work to do before he could unleash his vengeance on Monparth.

  Chapter 14

  SWEAT TICKLED THE BACK of Regulus’ neck as he entered the Glower’s banquet hall. Two rows of tables ran the length of the long hall, decked with candles and tin place settings on navy blue tablecloths. Tall candelabras lined the stone walls, positioned between large vases stuffed with fragrant flowers in bright colors. Some nobles sat at the long tables; others were being shown to their seats. He scanned the room for Adelaide but didn’t see her. He couldn’t decide if that made him more anxious or less. This is stupid. It’s just supper.

  “Good evening, Lord Hargreaves, Sir Jakobs.” A servant stepped toward them and bowed. “This way.”

  “Pardon me,” Dresden said, surprising Regulus. “Have the Drummonds arrived yet?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Might it be possible for my lord to be seated next to Lady Belanger?”

  The servant looked over his shoulder, forehead creased. “I fear the seating has already been arranged—”

  Dresden pulled a pouch of coins off his belt. “I would gladly compensate you for any inconvenience.”

  Regulus stiffened. A bribe? What was Dresden thinking? But sitting next to Adelaide would make supper more interesting. The idea both excited and terrified him.

  The servant’s eyes darted around in mild alarm, but he discreetly took the pouch. “I’ve just remembered, you’re seated over here, my lord.” He made an adjustment in his course and indicated a couple seats. “I would take the seat on the left, my lord,” he added.

  Regulus nodded and he and Drez took their seats. “The hell, Drez?” he muttered.

  “Breathe,” Dresden whispered.

  “I am breathing.”

  “You look like you’re holding your breath.”

  He forced himself to relax. “This is a bad idea.” His stomach roiled.

  Dresden turned toward him, leaning his forearm on the table in front of the delicate tin plate. “What have we talked about?”

  Surely Drez wasn’t going to do this right here, right now.

  “You need to live your life and stop moping over things you can’t control. Choices, Regulus. Choose some joy.” Dresden smiled. “Get to know her.”

  Regulus fiddled with his spoon, watching the flickering candlelight reflect in its dull surface. Fine, he wanted to get to know her. Didn’t mean he should. Sometimes he wanted alcohol before noon. Didn’t mean that was a good idea.

  “Lord Hargreaves?”

  Regulus snapped his head up and found himself looking into Adelaide’s rich brown eyes outlined by dark lashes. His mind seemed to break. Etiros, she’s beautiful. For a moment, he couldn’t find his voice. “Lady Belanger.” How articulate.

  “It appears we are seated next to each other.”

  “Are we?” Regulus bolted to his feet and pulled out her chair. Next to her, Sir Gaius was helping his wife, with her now visible stomach bump, into her chair. Lord and Lady Drummond sat on Lady Minerva’s other side. Adelaide sat and Regulus pushed her seat forward before retaking his own.

  She smirked. “What a fortunate coincidence.”

  Regulus’ jaw went slack, and Dresden stifled a chuckle. “I...”

  “I’m sure our hosts won’t notice.” She laughed, and he calmed.

  “Allow me to explain, my lady.” Drez leaned forward, looking around Regulus at Adelaide. “Regulus mentioned wishing he could get to know you better, so I persuaded a servant to seat you together. Please forgive my minor transgression of protocol. I hope you don’t find me impertinent.”

  Adelaide raised a brow, looking positively regal. “Sir Dresden Jakobs, right?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “It sounds to me like Lord Hargreaves is fortunate to have you as a friend.” Her eyes shone playfully.

  A friend. As if two words could sum up their complicated relationship. All the times Regulus hadn’t been a worthy friend to Dresden threatened to overwhelm him.

  “Drez is a better friend than I deserve,” he admitted. “He’s had my back for years. We’ve been through everything together. There’s no one I trust more or owe as much to.”

  Dresden laughed, but it sounded uncomfortable. “He owes me nothing. I’m far more fortunate to have Regulus as a friend.”

  As if that’s true. He knew Drez meant it. He just didn’t agree.

  Adelaide didn’t respond. Was she judging him for being too familiar with one of his knights? Or wondering about his past? She watched him, her head tilted, gaze intense. Heat crept up his neck and he looked away.

  Across the room, a man stared at him. He looked closer. Nolan Carrick stood rigid, glaring. Without breaking eye contact, Carrick moved his hand to the dagger at his belt and gave the smallest shake of his head. Carrick smiled, as if nothing had happened, and followed a squire to a seat next to Sir Glower.

  Regulus shifted and looked back at Adelaide. She watched Carrick take his seat, and his chest constricted with disappointment. But her eyes narrowed, and her jaw tightened. She shook her head and her features relaxed. He recalled her letter. “It was a miserable party.”

  “Does this mean I didn’t offend you?” Adelaide’s quiet voice interrupted his confused thoughts. “You never wrote back.”

  His face burned. “No. I’m sorry I didn’t respond. I’ve been traveling on business,” he faltered, “for a friend.” And he hadn’t known what to say.

  She traced a slender finger over the edge of her plate. “I’m truly sorry.”

  He grasped for a proper response. “I’m sorry you suffered a miserable party. Although, I assumed the Carricks would host extraordinary parties.”

  “Oh, the party was spectacular.” Her hand curled into a fist, her voice dark. “The company was miserable.” She darted a glance at Regulus, then fixated on her plate. “Have you...heard anything? About the Carrick’s dance?”

  “Should I have?”

  “No.” Her posture relaxed as she exhaled.

  The gentle clanking of a fork against a goblet drew their attention to the head of the room. Sir Glower welcomed everyone and thanked them for coming and Etiros for providing for their safety and health.

  As servants filled their goblets with wine, Adelaide spoke. “According to Sir Jakobs, you wanted to get to know me. What do you want to know?”

  “Oh.” His mind blanked. “I...well, I don’t know much about you. What would you want me to know?”

  “Hm. No one’s ever asked me that.” She smiled at a servant as he set a basket of bread in front of them.

  Regulus studied Adelaide while she buttered a roll and thought. Her
round cheeks and slender nose. The dark brown of her eyes. Her soft pink lips. Her hair, tumbling about her shoulders in black waves. Like a calm sea on a dark night. The wide collar of her crimson dress hugged her upper arms, leaving the top of her shoulders exposed. Her black hair against the rich brown of her skin and the vibrant contrast of the red nearly took his breath away. He forced himself to stop staring. A servant set down a roast duck and began carving it in front of them.

  “I speak Khast,” Adelaide said between bites of roll. “My mother taught Minerva and me, although I’m more fluent than Min. Mother always says, ‘I may have left Khastalland, but I am and always will be a Khastallander. It is part of me, and it is part of you, even though you have never seen it, Tha Shiraa.’”

  Regulus inclined his head, trying to remember the few Khast words he had picked up, but he hadn’t had reason to think of them in years. “Thah Sheer-ah?”

  She blushed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “My mother’s nickname for me, in Khast. Tha Shiraa. Little Tigress.” She pulled a comb from the other side of her head and showed it to him. An ivory carving of a sleeping tiger curled into a ball, delicately painted in striking orange and black. “It’s why she gave me this.” She returned the comb to her hair.

  “Tha Shiraa,” he repeated. “Why tigress?”

  “Too many times testing the limits, pushing the bounds of safety. And a penchant for speaking out of turn. Father said I was bold, and Mother agreed.”

  “Bold like a tigress.” Regulus chuckled as he cut into the roast duck the servant set on his plate. “That’s wonderful.”

  “Really?” Adelaide looked at him.

  “Of course,” he murmured, transfixed by the intensity of her eyes.

  “Many find boldness...unfeminine,” she said, not breaking eye contact.

  He couldn’t suppress a snort. “Many people are fools.”

  “Indeed.” She finally looked away.

  After a moment, she continued. “I have five half-siblings, my father’s children with his first wife. The youngest, twins, were two when their mother died. The oldest was only eight.” She poked the roast duck with her fork. “My father went to war shortly after and met my mother. He returned with a new wife who soon was pregnant. It was hard on them. Not as much when they were younger, but the older we got... We were different.” She shrugged. “It didn’t help I spent several years away as a child because I was—sickly.” She cleared her throat. “Thank Etiros for Minerva, or I might have lost my mind.”

  Even as he empathized with her lack of connection with her half-siblings, he latched onto her mention of Etiros. Until that moment, he hadn’t considered that most Khastallanders venerated the pantheistic god Prakasroht, not the creator-god worshiped in Carasom and Monparth. At least religious disagreements wouldn’t be an issue, especially if they had children—wait, what? Slow down.

  She gave him a weak smile. “So that’s Adelaide Belanger. Half-noble daughter of a lord’s second wife who speaks Khast and barely knows her half-siblings.”

  The loneliness and rejection in her words cut his heart. He had the sudden and strong urge to take her hand or caress her face. That would be wildly improper. A voice in the back of his mind urged caution, reminding him of the dangers of getting too involved, but he wasn’t listening.

  “What a strange way to describe yourself.”

  “What?” Adelaide glanced at him askance.

  “If I were you,” Regulus smiled, “I would say, ‘Adelaide Belanger, daughter of a war hero, woman of intellect who speaks Khast and Monparthian, paragon of honesty and grace with the heart of a tigress.’”

  She stared, and his palms grew slick. He sounded like an idiot boy, writing atrocious love poetry. Adelaide grinned, and the embarrassment faded. “I like your version better, too.”

  “Wait until I tell the men about this...” Drez whispered, so low Regulus barely heard him. Regulus stomped on his foot, and Drez jammed his knee into the table. A servant came by with a wine jug, and Regulus held up his goblet, ignoring Drez’s glare.

  “And how would you describe yourself, Lord Hargreaves?”

  He swirled the wine in his goblet. Bastard son of a lord of little account who became a mercenary, swore an oath that made him an evil sorcerer’s slave, and has too many deaths on his conscience.

  “I’m afraid Regulus has never been good at self-praise.” Dresden leaned around him. “Allow me. Regulus Hargreaves, a strong leader, a good man, and a selfless friend who needs to take better care of himself.”

  Regulus took a long drink and swallowed hard. And a fool. A fool who wished he hadn’t come and wished the night would never end all at once.

  Adelaide leaned on the table. “Tell me, Sir Jakobs—”

  “My friends call me Dresden, my lady,” Drez interrupted. “Or even Drez.”

  “All right, Dresden.” Her smile looked full of mischief. “Be honest with me.”

  “On my honor.”

  She squinted and dropped her voice in a fake whisper. “Is Lord Hargreaves a vampire?”

  Regulus’ eyes widened. “Wh—”

  “Oh, no,” Dresden said, his tone serious. “He’s a shape-shifting spirit.”

  Adelaide and Dresden both laughed, and Regulus realized how tense his shoulders were. He took a deep breath. “Hilarious.”

  She turned back to her food. “Tell me, Lord Hargreaves, what do you want me to know about you?”

  What did he want her to know? What did he dare tell her?

  Dresden elbowed his side. “Speak up, man, or I’ll tell her every dirty prank you’ve ever pulled.” Regulus suppressed his scowl.

  “I wouldn’t have thought you the prankster type.” Confusion and amusement mixed in Adelaide’s expression.

  He wasn’t sure what to make of that. “To be honest, Dresden is the prankster. I just sometimes helped. What type do you think me?”

  She studied him, lips pursed. “Strong. Serious. Observant. Diligent.” She paused. “Kind.” She returned to her food. “But you still haven’t answered.”

  He laughed nervously. “Right.” He poked at the peas on his plate. So many things he could tell her. So many he couldn’t. He recalled her teasing question, is Lord Hargreaves a vampire? Which rumor to address? “I didn’t send my father’s wife and my sister-in-law away. Or kill them.”

  Adelaide paused and lowered her fork, watching him.

  “I offered to let them stay at Arrano, even after they challenged me, and I won against their champion.” He couldn’t take her unwavering regard any longer and traced his forefinger over the vine pattern in the tablecloth. “I hoped my father’s wife might forgive me, but...” He shrugged. “She always hated me.” She wanted me dead. “So they left. Wouldn’t accept any help from me. I don’t even know if they made it to Craigailte as they had planned.”

  Adelaide’s fork rested on her plate with the same bite of food as she listened.

  “I was a mercenary, but I believe in honor.” He met her eyes. “I may be a killer, but I’m not a murderer.” Not by choice, at least. “That’s what I’d want you to know. To believe.”

  “Oh, Lord Hargreaves.” Her sad smile made him feel uncomfortably vulnerable. “I’m sorry about the vampire comment. I didn’t mean...I never believed you killed them.” They looked at each other for a long moment. She picked her fork back up.

  “Well,” Dresden said. “The prize for terrible supper conversation goes to Regulus bringing up murder.”

  Adelaide laughed, and Regulus’ stomach unknotted enough for him to continue eating.

  “Don’t think you get out of sharing, Dresden,” Adelaide said as she picked up her goblet. “What should I know about you?”

  “Oh.” Dresden shifted. “I fight with scimitars. I’m Carasian, although I grew up in Monparth, so I consider myself Monparthian. And... I am drawing a blank on things that are both interesting and appropriate to say.”

  Regulus snorted. “I wish I was surprised.”

&nb
sp; “All right, then...” Adelaide chuckled. “So you moved here with your family? I’d love to hear about them.”

  A burning coal settled in Regulus' stomach. He opened his mouth to shift the conversation, but Dresden answered, his tone casual.

  “My parents moved before I was born, but I left my family to join a nobles’ household when I was very young. Not far—a day’s travel. Apparently, that was still too far to visit. I didn’t really blame them, but I couldn’t leave.” Drez shrugged.

  Regulus hoped his guilt wasn’t written all over his face. His childhood guardian didn’t let him or Dresden wander that far, but it still felt like Dresden’s estrangement from his family was Regulus’ fault. And the careful way Dresden chose his words, telling the truth while hiding he had left his impoverished family to be Regulus’ servant, just reminded Regulus how much he was hiding from Adelaide.

  “You don’t talk to someone for years, they become strangers.” Drez prodded the carrots on his plate. “By the time rejoining them was an option, I doubt they would have recognized me. It was easier not to go back. So Regulus got stuck with me.” He clapped his hand on Regulus’ shoulder and grinned. “We were a couple hot-headed boys without close family, so we became mercenaries and traveled the world.”

  Adelaide’s soft eyes looked between Regulus and Dresden, compassionate, but also curious. “I’m glad you two found each other.”

  “Wait.” Dresden sat up straighter. “I’ve got it. I dislike rules.”

  “Really?” Sarcasm dripped from Adelaide’s voice. “I never would have guessed, sir bribed-the-servant.” Regulus flushed.

  Dresden choked. “I never said—”

  “Persuaded? Mm-hm.” She lifted a brow, a poorly suppressed smile twisting her lips. “Was it worth it?”

  “You tell me,” Drez said. If Regulus didn’t know better, he would have called his tone flirtatious.

  Adelaide cocked her head, her gaze flicking from Dresden to Regulus. Regulus’ heart about stopped. He swore her cheeks pinkened. “I’m glad you dislike rules.”