Drez strode over and shoved the parchment in his face. “You left this in the dining hall.”
As Regulus’ eyes focused on the writing in the dim light, he recognized it as the letter confirming his entry into the Etchy Tournament. “Oh. That. I was going to tell you about that.”
“When? It’s in four days! We’ll have to leave the day after next!” Dresden dropped the letter in Regulus’ lap as Magnus curled up on the rug in front of the fireplace. “‘Oh, Drez, get ready for a trip. Where? The Etchy Tournament, time to go, no time to talk.’”
Regulus ducked his head. “Something of the sort did cross my mind.”
“Reg, there’s a reason you don’t do tournaments!” With a groan, Drez sat on the end of Regulus’ bed.
“I know—”
“Then explain! Did the sorcerer tell you he won’t need you for the next week?”
“Well, no—”
“So you could have to up and leave with no explanation?”
“That wouldn’t be so strange—”
“And has your superhuman strength disappeared recently?”
“No—”
“Are you still healing supernaturally quickly?”
“Drez—”
“Is sorcery still a capital offense? What changed, Regulus? What?” Dresden looked uncharacteristically tired as he drew his hand down his face. “You’re going to get caught.”
Regulus stared at the fire. Every objection Dresden raised and more had already occurred to him. He knew he was being foolish; he just didn’t care. Because for once, something was going right.
“I can be careful. I can hold myself back. I’ve practiced, you’ve seen it.”
“When have you ever cared about tournaments?” Drez walked over to the fireplace. He knelt and scratched Magnus’ head. “You told me you didn’t want to take part in the nobles’ games of vanity and posturing, regardless of the danger of doing so with your... Condition.”
“Things change.”
“What changed?” Dresden leaned against the wood-paneled wall next to the fireplace and crossed his arms. “Based on the checklist I went down, nothing...has...” A stricken expression came over his face. “Don’t say it. Don’t you say it.”
Regulus offered a guilty half smile. “You wanted this.”
“Oh, for the love of...” Drez rubbed his forehead. “Do you even know if she will be there?”
“She asked if I’d be there. I couldn’t tell her no.” The yes was out of my mouth before I could stop myself. He couldn’t disappoint Adelaide now. And even though it was dangerous—for himself and Adelaide—he wanted to go. After she pulled a dagger on Carrick, Regulus knew he was a lost cause. He would do anything she asked. The way her eyes lit up when he said he’d be there... She’s making me reckless.
“You’re an idiot.”
Yes, probably. “I’ll be careful. I won’t be found out.” He looked down at his hands. “But if something goes wrong...well, same plan. None of you knew anything.”
“I’m not abandoning you, Reg.” Dresden’s voice was tight with anger. “The others won’t, either. Don’t you get that yet?”
It’s the only reason I keep coming back. “I’m not letting any of you die because of me.”
“You’re only in this mess because of me and the others,” Dresden said quietly.
He took his feet off the stool and sat forward in his chair. “No. This was my choice. Something goes wrong; you swear on everything you can think of you didn’t know. Or what is the point of what I’ve done?”
Dresden glowered at the floor in silence. “Well...don’t get caught and it won’t be an issue.” He straightened. “So, you really like her?”
No. I think I might love her. “I know I shouldn’t—”
Drez cursed. “Stop. You don’t have to be afraid of being happy.”
“I’m not afraid of being happy. I’m afraid of hurting her.” Regulus rubbed the tension building in his shoulder. “When I’m here, it’s easier to tell myself it’s dangerous. But when I’m around her...” He shrugged, his face heating. I believe in a better life.
“You’re more yourself.” The corner of Drez’s mouth pulled up in a bittersweet smile. “You better win. Make this ridiculous risk worth it.”
Regulus smiled wryly. “Obviously.”
Chapter 18
THE TOURNAMENT GROUNDS were already buzzing with activity as Adelaide dismounted. She held her hand up to shade her eyes from the bright afternoon sun as Gaius helped Minerva out of their carriage. Lord and Lady Drummond had decided not to attend the tournament as Lord Drummond had sprained his ankle. All the better for Adelaide, who could get away with riding Zephyr instead of being trapped in the carriage. Since Lady Drummond wasn’t around to purse her lips at Adelaide’s fashion choices, Adelaide wore a comfortable riding dress.
The close-fitting bodice of the gray-blue dress had long, fitted sleeves. The skirt, split beneath a wide black belt, parted when she walked to reveal a dark blue, smaller skirt that came to her mid-thigh. While still Monparthian and conservative in style, the split skirt would have scandalized Gaius’ prim-and-proper mother.
Adelaide wandered toward whatever caught her attention. She admired a fine bay stallion here, looked at the archery field being assembled there. Gaius and Minerva followed as she wove between tents and rushing servants and squires leading enormous destriers. Dust coated everything, and the air smelled of manure, cooking food, and sweat.
As they walked, Adelaide spotted a large group of men. They wore clean but plain clothes, and most had a sword on their belt, but none wore armor. Probably knights there serving their lords and not competing; a few of the younger ones might be squires. A glint of sunlight on flying metal caught her eye, and she looked closer, slowing. Another glint of metal. Knives. They were throwing knives. A thrill went through her, and she sped toward the group.
Several knives with red handles were embedded in a large, sprawling beech tree a few paces away from the group. A few of the red-handled knives had blue-handled knives near them. Sometimes the red and blue were right next to each other, sometimes they had a good bit of space. Plenty of holes showed where knives had been thrown and removed.
A stocky man with a balding head and bushy black beard threw another blue-handled knife. It scraped across a branch, just below a red-handled knife, but fell to the ground. Several men groaned. The thrower stood next to a post with three more blue-handled knives stuck in it. Adelaide watched with interest as the man threw the remaining knives with no better luck.
“Not bad,” a thin man with salt-and-pepper hair said. “But Estevan wins another round.” Several men grumbled while others gloated as money exchanged hands. A boy of about ten ran out to the tree and pulled all the knives free.
“Any other takers?” Salt-and-Pepper asked.
“What exactly is going on?” Adelaide asked a lean man with a weathered face and blond hair.
He looked at her in surprise. “Oh, just a bit of fun, m’lady. That there is Estevan.” He pointed at a young man of average height and a thin but muscular build with tan skin and thick, curly brown hair. The dark edge of a tattoo showed just above his collar. “He’s about one of the best knife-throwers there is. He gets the first throw. His opponent throws second. If he can get all of his knives within four fingers’ breadth of Estevan’s, he wins. If not, Estevan wins.”
Adelaide nodded, as Salt-and-Pepper kept asking for volunteers. “I take it Estevan hasn’t lost yet.”
“No, m’lady.”
“Come on,” the older man crooned. “Is no one bold and skilled enough to knock this upstart down a peg or two? Someone must want to try their hand at it.”
“I’ll throw.” Adelaide said it before she even realized she was speaking. Minerva sighed behind her and Gaius choked.
Amusement, shock, and confusion showed on the men’s faces. Adelaide cleared her throat. “I’ll throw,” she repeated. No way would she back down now.
“W
ith all due respect my lady,” Salt-and-Pepper said, looking uncomfortable, “this is a gambling game—”
Adelaide reached into the purse at her belt and pulled out a few silver coins. “Is this enough?”
“Um...” The man looked lost and confused, so Adelaide smiled sweetly at Estevan.
“Won’t you let a lady have a little fun?”
Estevan chuckled. “I’m not going to make it easy for you.”
Adelaide grinned. “I should hope not. Fair’s fair.”
“All right... I guess the lady throws.” Salt-and-Pepper shrugged.
Estevan stepped forward, and the boy stuck the red-handled knives into the post. Estevan threw in rapid succession, each knife burying deep into the oak in different places and angles. Adelaide studied him, noting his ease, balanced stance, and excellent follow-through. Once he’d thrown all eight knives, he stepped back. “My lady.”
The men whispered to each other and a few sniggered, but she ignored them and handed the man in charge her silver. As she walked to the post, she studied the position of the knives in the tree. All right. A few tricky angles and a couple thinner branches. But not terrible. The boy stuck the blue-handled knives into the post and stepped away.
Adelaide pulled the first one free and held it for a moment, judging its weight and balance. She tossed it in the air and caught it a couple times. She took a deep breath, stood as near as she could to where Estevan had stood, and threw the knife.
Chapter 19
“OKAY, BUT DO YOU need to do three events?” Dresden asked as they walked across the dusty tournament grounds.
People were everywhere. Noblewomen cast furtive glances their way and noblemen poorly hid their surprise at seeing Regulus. Young men caroused and winked at giggling young women. Servants hurried to do their masters’ bidding and freemen shouted to each other as they finished constructing rough arenas and stands with benches for the audience. The air was rank with the smell of horses. A lord whose name he’d forgotten cast a suspicious glance his way, but Regulus squared his shoulders. He had every right to compete.
Regulus stepped around a pile of horse manure. “Define need.”
Dresden rolled his eyes. “I get the joust. What’s the point if you enter a tournament and don’t joust, right? Sword makes sense, even if it’s a touch risky. Archery, though?”
“I’ve been practicing so much, I’d like to see how I do,” Regulus said, a little defensively.
“Archery has never been your strongest point.”
“Then there’s room for improvement. If nothing else, watching the others will give me some ideas.”
“You are a strange man.”
“I suppose you would know, wouldn’t you?”
Dresden snorted. He pointed at a group of men. “Looks like Estevan is getting up to mischief already.”
“Oh?” Regulus looked as Estevan threw a knife at an oak tree and stepped back. “Should have known we’d find him throwing knives. Likely gambling, too.” They ambled toward the group to see how his opponent would fare. Regulus stumbled.
“Is that—”
“Adelaide,” Regulus breathed. Adelaide strode to the post were Estevan had stood moments before. Her blue dress parted as she walked, revealing black boots and fitted breeches. A boy stuck several knives in the post.
“She’s not...throwing knives...is she?” Dresden asked.
Adelaide pulled out one of the knives, hefting it in her hand.
Regulus waved his hand. “Khastallanders teach women to use daggers and throwing knives. So...”
“So she thought she’d compete against Estevan?” Dresden shook his head as they stopped at the edge of the group of bystanders.
Adelaide adjusted her stance, raised her arm. She threw the knife. With a flash of reflected sunlight, it arced through the air and buried in the tree with a soft thud, less than a palm’s breadth from one of Estevan’s knives. She tilted her head to the side, then grabbed another knife. The onlookers, most of whom had been talking and several laughing, had fallen silent. She threw the next knife, then threw the rest as quickly as she could pull them from the post, which was impressively fast. When she finished, she leaned back on her heels, crossed her arms, and grinned at Estevan.
All her knives had landed close to Estevan’s. Three of her knives were practically touching his. Estevan stared at the tree, jaw slack. Silence. Regulus looked back and forth between the knives and Adelaide’s jubilant expression. Her eyes sparkled over her confident smile. Regulus’ heart squeezed strangely. Etiros, I’m in love.
“Let’s hear it for the lady,” one man shouted. The rest of the congregated men cheered, and Adelaide blushed and gave a small curtsy. A few of the men looked downcast as they handed over coins to jubilant friends.
“We have a new winner,” said a man with gray-flecked black hair. He handed Adelaide a handful of coins. “Most impressive, m’lady.”
Adelaide pocketed her winnings and crossed over to Estevan with a smile. “Excellent throwing.”
“You too,” Estevan said slowly, jaw still slack. He shook his head and smiled. “I’m sorry. That was...spectacular. Congratulations, Lady...?”
“Belanger.”
“Lady Belanger.” Estevan’s eyes went wide. “B-Belanger?” Regulus watched in amusement as terrified realization dawned on Estevan’s face.
“Yes...?” Adelaide chuckled awkwardly.
Regulus walked up to them. “Lady Adelaide.”
She looked up and beamed. “Lord Regulus!”
He smiled. “I see you’ve met another of my knights, Sir Estevan Wolgemuth.”
Estevan bowed, although his face was red. “It’s an honor to meet you, my lady, even an honor to lose to you. Reg—Lord Hargreaves speaks highly of you.”
“Does he?” She pushed some of her hair back behind her ear, momentarily hiding her face.
“Never letting you live this down,” Dresden whispered to Estevan. Estevan scowled and went to retrieve the knives from the tree.
Sir Gaius and Lady Minerva came up next to Adelaide. Sir Gaius chuckled and shook his head. “I knew you threw knives, but by my sword, that was something to watch.” Minerva elbowed him. “What? Swearing? Your sister just gambled and threw knives against a man she didn’t even know, I think I can be forgiven for an innocent oath.”
Regulus bowed. “Sir Gaius. Lady Minerva.”
“Lord Hargreaves,” they said in unison as they bowed and curtsied.
“Dresden and I were on our way to see the jousting arena.” He looked at Adelaide. “Perhaps you all would walk with us?”
“We would love to,” Adelaide said.
Regulus smiled. “Excellent.” For a moment, he hesitated. He offered her his arm. She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and stepped closer to him. Close enough her skirt brushed his leg. He cleared his throat and started toward the jousting arena.
Dresden and Sir Gaius and Minerva fell behind them. Regulus suspected this to be on purpose, probably a design of Dresden’s. But he couldn’t think of anything other than Adelaide’s hand on his arm.
“I thought Estevan was the best knife-thrower I’d ever met.” He chuckled. “I may have to re-evaluate.”
“That wasn’t exactly ladylike, I suppose.”
He looked down at her in surprise. “What? Why not?”
She looked up, brow creased. “Gaius is right. I gambled and threw knives in competition against someone I didn’t even know. Not things ladies are supposed to do.”
“Why?”
Adelaide wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know why. I’ve been asking for years and no one will tell me!”
They laughed and Regulus felt warmth spread through his chest.
“It truly doesn’t bother you?”
Regulus shrugged. “Can I be honest?”
“All right...”
“It was beautiful.”
Adelaide tripped forward and he caught her shoulders. She leaned into his side for the briefest moment
, and his lungs squeezed. She steadied herself, returning her hand to the crook of his elbow. He swallowed hard. Forced himself to breathe.
“There was a rock,” she muttered.
After a moment, Regulus continued. “I saw beauty. Confident dignity in your posture. Sophistication in your movements, grace in the arc of the blades. I saw nothing unladylike. Just elegant, mesmerizing strength. You know your own capabilities, and that confidence is attractive.”
Adelaide looked at him sideways, a smile dancing at the corner of her lips. “Attractive?”
His face heated. “I...um...” Panic rose in his chest. Had it been too forward to say that?
“I suppose you called my confidence attractive,” Adelaide said, her voice thoughtful. “So, there’s room for debate on whether I am attractive.”
Their eyes met. In unison, they just...stopped walking. Stood there. So close together. Her lips parted slightly, and he felt the sudden, strong urge to lean down and kiss her.
“No,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “No debate. Not from me.”
“If we’re being honest,” she murmured, “you’re pretty good-looking yourself.”
His heart thudded. “Better without the scar, I’d imagine,” he said without thinking.
She cocked her head to the side and grinned. “I like it.”
He ran his free hand through his hair, then rubbed the pommel of his sword. His scar? She...liked it?
A woman cleared her throat in an obvious attempt at getting their attention. Adelaide reddened as they stepped back from each other and her hand slipped off his arm.
“Having a good conversation, are we?” Minerva said as she walked up to them with Dresden and Gaius. Dresden winked at Regulus. Hopefully Adelaide hadn’t noticed.
“Yes, actually,” Adelaide replied. “Ahpak, bes bahda dahlen ped, hei neah?” Regulus recognized the Khast but didn’t have any idea what she had said.
Minerva giggled and responded in Khast.
Whatever Minerva had said made Adelaide’s cheeks darken. “Kop reho!”
That he thought he understood. Best guess? Shut up.
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