Prince of Shadow and Ash

by Selina R. Gonzalez

  Baroness Carrick sighed. “Perhaps if you had an ounce of humility and a touch more civility, you’d have a wife by now.” Her voice reminded Regulus of the time Caleb tightened the strings on his lute too far and one snapped.

  Carrick aggressively bit into a piece of roast quail and didn’t respond.

  Regulus looked over the crowd as he ate, seeking Adelaide. Wherever she was, he couldn’t find her among the crowded tables.

  “Lord Hargreaves,” Baron Carrick’s voice cut through his thoughts.

  He cleared his throat. “Yes, my lord?” Being so close to the baron felt odd. Regulus hadn’t spoken to him in the two years since he’d sworn his fealty and Baron Carrick had confirmed the transference of his title and land.

  “I’m curious why I haven’t seen you compete before.”

  The whole table looked at Regulus. The back of his neck itched. “I spent twenty-seven years of my life without a title, unable to compete in tournaments. Once titled, I hadn’t changed, only my legal status. I was in no rush to risk my neck seeking glory among those who hadn’t yet accepted me when I could finally rest and stop risking my neck for those too rich to risk their own.”

  The row of faces stared at Regulus in mute shock.

  He hadn’t intended to be so blunt or accusatory. The words just...spilled out. His mind seemed to relish the chance to lash out instead of suffering judgmental looks and whispered conversations in silence. Well done, Regulus.

  “Then you’re not still a mercenary?” Carrick’s haughty tone made Regulus’ fingers ache to grip a sword.

  “No.”

  “And why would he be?” Baron Carrick pulled a grape off a bunch on the table in front of him. “Such pursuits are for men cut off, with no inheritance or title.”

  Carrick shot his father a scalding glance before returning to eating and drinking.

  “You think very little of the men who hired you as a mercenary?” Lord Ganlar asked, his expression solemn.

  “By and large they seemed to think very little of me,” Regulus said, on edge. “When you fight another man’s battles and he treats you like a hunting hound, it’s difficult to maintain a high regard for that man.” He thought of the sorcerer with delusions of royalty. His fingers dug into his leg, and he willed himself to relax.

  Ganlar looked thoughtful, if guarded. “I suppose that’s fair.”

  “At least hounds are loyal to their lord. Mercenaries can’t even claim that dignity.” Carrick sipped from his tankard, the look in his eyes daring Regulus to retaliate.

  Regulus kept his tone even. “I never took conflicting contracts, I chose my benefactors carefully, and I refused to work with unscrupulous mercenaries. I only helped innocents, never harmed them. So don’t think me without honor because I served no lord. I was loyal to my men, and my men to me.” He inclined his head, realizing he should cover his bases. “As Lord of Arrano, I am loyal to Baron Carrick and to the king.” Although I hope they never collect on my fealty.

  “I am pleased to have men with skills such as yours I can count on.” Baron Carrick’s voice was steady and pleasant, but he didn’t look at Regulus. Eventually, the others fell to talking amongst themselves. Regulus ate in silence, and no one asked him any more questions.

  After supper, Regulus wove between guests and dodged servants carrying tables and benches, seeking Adelaide. He found her as the musicians started playing. She grinned and his stress evaporated. Don’t get carried away, he reminded himself.

  “May I have this dance?” Regulus bowed and held out his hand.

  “I think you’ve earned it.” Adelaide took his hand with a teasing laugh.

  Her skin on his sent a thrill up his arm. She wore a scarlet dress with a low square neckline. Swirling gold embroidery covered the bodice and cuffed the sleeves at her elbows. Below her elbows, sheer red fabric hung down to her wrists. A gold pendant set with a small ruby hung from the gold chain around her neck, the gold contrasting well with her soft brown skin. She looked like a dream.

  As they danced, everything else seemed to fade. To become less important. More manageable. The awkwardness of supper seemed trivial. Even the mark on his arm seemed inconvenient rather than life-ending. The sorcerer said I’m getting close. Adelaide spun, the lantern light reflecting off the red ribbon and gold pins in her black braid. Her arm brushed his, and reckless hope burned anew in his chest. I can do this. I can love her and earn my freedom.

  They moved through the steps. Closer together, her nearness an ache in his heart. Further apart, her distance suffocating. She spun as the song ended, and Regulus stepped forward. Adelaide bumped into him, her hands resting on his chest. A pleasurable tremor skittered down his spine as his hands found her waist.

  His eyes darted down to her lips. The warmth of her body so close to his was intoxicating. He leaned forward. She didn’t pull back, but he thought of the sorcerer and hesitated. She deserved to know the truth first. To have a choice. He wanted to kiss her—Etiros above did he want to kiss her—but he wanted her to kiss him with full knowledge of everything he was. She bit her lower lip and his heart raced like a startled deer.

  “Come to Arrano for supper,” he whispered, breathless. He forced himself to look back at her eyes.

  Her gaze dropped momentarily, as if she were disappointed. “When?”

  “As soon as you can.” Suddenly, he realized she couldn’t just come over. Not alone, anyway. “You, your sister. Sir Gaius. I want you to come to my estate for supper.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “There’s the tournament. Then getting back. Five days from now?”

  Regulus shook his head, remembering the sorcerer. “I forgot. I have an...engagement. I promised I would help someone and will be away for a few days. In twelve days?”

  Adelaide’s shoulders slumped. “That’s the day before Lord Drummond is hosting Lord Thealane and his family for three days. We won’t be able to get away.”

  “What about in eleven days?” The sorcerer needed his ingredients before the full moon, not on that day. He could get the ingredients and be back by then.

  “All right. I’ll check with Gaius and Minerva.” She pulled away from him, and he let her go with reluctance. He moved further away from the couples trying to dance around him, some looking at him with pursed lips. Within a couple minutes, Adelaide found him again. She beamed. “We’ll be there.”

  “Six in the evening?”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  Regulus took her hand and danced with her until the musicians stopped playing. They talked and laughed. As the last note faded, he cupped her face in his hands. He swallowed against the lump in his throat. Not yet. He wouldn’t try to kiss her in front of all these strangers—several of whom cast disapproving frowns their way. No, he wouldn’t take advantage of the rush of dancing so close to each other. He still needed to tell her the truth. Patience. He brushed a soft kiss against her forehead and stepped away before he lost his resolve.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Adelaide nodded, a bashful smile on her face. “Tomorrow.”

  He watched her find her sister and Sir Gaius and disappear among the crowd leaving the arena. He sighed. Deep. Contented. For the first time in years, he knew exactly what to do.

  Joust. Win. Take care of the sorcerer’s shopping list. Have supper with Adelaide, Gaius, and Minerva. Get Adelaide alone. Tell her everything. And if things went how he hoped, once free, he’d ask her to marry him.

  Regulus felt too exhilarated and nervous at once to sleep, so he exited the opposite end of the jousting arena. The waxing moon and glittering stars shone in the cloudless sky. The cool summer night air comfortable after so much dancing.

  He wasn’t a good dancer, never had been. Adequate, sure. But Adelaide didn’t seem to mind. No one had bothered them. Even Carrick hadn’t shown his face. And Regulus had been too busy looking at Adelaide to bother noticing anyone else.

  Footsteps. A rustling, behind him and to his right. He spun aro
und.

  Carrick stepped out from behind a large bush, sword hanging from his belt. “Hello, mercenary.” He sneered. “Where are your peasant friends? The Carasian who’s always trailing you like a shadow?” Four more men stepped around Carrick, although none of them carried swords.

  Regulus reached for his sword. His fingers grasped at empty air. Feast. Dancing. No swords. A string of curses went through his mind.

  “Missing something?” Carrick drawled. “You look better without the sword. More like what you really are—the son of a servant.”

  Regulus’ hands clenched. “What do you want?”

  “I’d like your head.” Carrick rested his hand on his sword hilt. “But it would be suspicious if you turned up dead. So, I’m not going to kill you. But I’ll settle for your humiliation. Kneel.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You said you’re loyal to my father. Prove it. Kneel.”

  Regulus worked his jaw and eyed the other men, weighing his options. If he walked away, Carrick could attack from behind. “I do not need to kneel before a spare son with a title beneath my own.” Carrick grimaced, and Regulus knew he’d struck a nerve. “But out of deference for your father...” He bowed at the waist. “Have a good evening, my lord.”

  Carrick glowered. “Break the bastard’s arms.”

  The four men moved forward. Regulus stepped back, trying to decide if he should fight or run. “You would assault a lord?”

  Carrick shrugged. “My father and I are not on the best of terms, as you probably noticed. But who will he believe? You? Or me and the sons of some of the most respected knights in Thaera Duchy?”

  “All this over a lost contest?” Regulus shook his head, watching the other four men. “Why is it so important to you?”

  Carrick’s expression darkened. “You think this is about one contest?” He jutted his chin at Regulus. “Take him down.”

  The other knights lunged forward. Regulus hesitated only a moment. He couldn’t risk them discovering his secret. He turned to run.

  “Coward!” He ignored Nolan’s taunt.

  An arrow whistled and Regulus scanned the darkness. An archer stood half-hidden in the shadow of a small tree ten paces ahead of him. He didn’t find the arrow fast enough to dodge it. The head bit into his left arm, the shaft sinking deep into his flesh. He gritted his teeth as he changed course away from the archer. The tip of his boot caught on the ground and he tripped. Not enough to make him fall, but enough to slow him. One of the knights threw himself against his back. Regulus fell to the ground.

  Chapter 27

  MINERVA HELD ADELAIDE’S hand, squeezing it in her excitement as they walked back to their tents. Gaius chuckled and shook his head as Minerva rattled off questions.

  “Is he a good dancer? Did you kiss him? He invited just us? How do we dress for that? Did he say anything about courtship? Marriage? Do—”

  “Slow down, Min.” Adelaide giggled. “One at a time.”

  “All right, all right. Is he a good dancer?”

  “I’ll be honest; I’ve danced with better.” She squeezed Minerva’s hand. “But that was the most fun I’ve ever had dancing.”

  “So?” Minerva elbowed her. “Did he kiss you?”

  “Min!”

  “Is that a yes?” Minerva winked.

  “No.” Adelaide bit her lip. “He seemed hesitant. I nearly kissed him myself, but then, I thought...maybe he should know first.”

  “Know what?” Gaius asked. Her eyes widened in alarm.

  “That Father’s picky about suitors,” Min said. Adelaide relaxed.

  “Truth.” Gaius laughed. “Curious, though. Hargreaves hasn’t invited anyone to Arrano castle since he arrived.”

  Adelaide shrugged. “I guess you’ll see Arrano in eleven days. The third of next month.”

  “What do we wear?” Minerva rubbed her stomach. “It’s not a party, but he is a lord...”

  “I’m pretty sure he doesn’t care.”

  “Mm, true, we are only invited because he couldn’t invite only you.”

  Adelaide rolled her eyes to hide her embarrassment.

  “Did he say anything about courtship or marriage?” Minerva prodded.

  “Well, no.” She pinched the sheer fabric of one of her sleeves between her fingers. “We were a little preoccupied with dancing. And talking about...everything and nothing. Sword fighting. Daggers. Food. Stories from when we were children.”

  “Maybe that’s something you should talk about before the tournament ends,” Minerva said. “Might be a good idea to make sure you’re on the same page about where this is going before we go to his estate.”

  Blood rushed to her face. “Are you doubting his intentions?”

  “No, just...” Minerva’s expression communicated more than words. Understanding. Sympathy. Love. Protectiveness. “Regulus seems like a good man. I like him. And I won’t lie, I like the idea of you living closer.” She winked. “But anyone can put on a good act, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I can take care of myself you know.”

  “I’m not talking about physical pain.” Minerva rubbed her thumb on Adelaide’s hand as they stopped in front of Adelaide’s tent. “I don’t want him to break your heart. I want to make sure you’re staying grounded.”

  “Don’t worry.” Adelaide pulled her hand away and smiled. “I’m using my heart and my head.”

  “All right.” Minerva rubbed Adelaide’s arm. A comforting gesture she had picked up from Mother. “I’ll see you in the morning.” She and Gaius headed toward their tent.

  Giselle held open the entrance to the tent. “Shall I help you change, my lady?”

  Adelaide peered into the dark tent. How could she sleep right now? The rush she had felt when Regulus cupped her face in his hands hadn’t quite worn off. She still felt the touch of his lips on her forehead. The strength of his hands on her waist as they danced. Still saw the longing in his eyes. She’d felt pulled to him, like he was magnetic.

  No, she couldn’t sleep yet. Too much energy still thrummed through her. “Actually,” she ducked inside to grab her riding cloak, “let’s go for a walk.”

  As they wandered away from the tents and the accompanying fires and lanterns, Adelaide realized they should have brought a torch. But her eyes adjusted to the moonlight well enough. Giselle followed a short distance behind her, more a consideration of propriety than any kind of safety.

  Away from the crowded tents, the noises of the night took over. The whisper of leaves brushing against each other. The chirping of crickets. An occasional croak of a frog or hoot of an owl. Adelaide breathed in the cool air, letting it calm her. Distant shouting jarred her out of her reverie. On instinct, she turned toward the noise. Grunts, shouts, and gasps carried through the night. Pulse rising, she drew her dagger from her boot.

  “Wait right here! Understand?”

  Giselle nodded, her face pale in the moonlight.

  Adelaide hurried toward the sound. The voices came into focus. “...strong!”

  “Kick him harder!” A man yelped, others shouted. “Stay down!” Gasps. The sound of flesh hitting flesh.

  “Get off me!”

  Adelaide’s breath came out in a rush. Regulus? Magic flared in her veins, a wild inferno of desperate energy under her skin. She ran past a couple trees. Several feet ahead, a group of four men leaned over a man on the ground, hitting and kicking him, while another man looked on. The man on the ground grabbed the shirt of one of the attackers and pushed him away. The assailant stumbled back, and moonlight fell on the downed man’s face.

  “Regulus!” Adelaide screamed as she ran toward the group.

  They all looked up, surprise on their faces, even as one of the men sent his boot into the side of Regulus’ head.

  Anger rushed through her like fire. “Leave him alone!” She swung her dagger, although she wasn’t yet close enough to hit any of them. Fire erupted from her hand, traveling down the dagger and throwing an arc of flame t
oward Regulus’ attackers. They yelled and jumped back. Her dagger burned in her hand, and she tossed it aside. She grabbed a throwing knife out of her other boot. “Get back!”

  “What was that?” one of the men demanded.

  Panic clawed at her insides. “My torch. It went out.” She held up her knife as she advanced. “But I still have this knife, and I’ll throw it into the head of the next man that harms him!”

  The men looked at each other. “Let’s go,” the onlooker said.

  Her hand dropped as she recognized his voice. She looked over, shock replaced by fury. “Nolan?”

  Nolan’s hard expression was unreadable. “We’re done here. I’ll leave you with your strong hero.” He turned and strode away, followed by the other men. Another man she hadn’t noticed walked past her and Regulus, following the others, a bow in his hands. Fool. You rushed in without checking your surroundings! Father would be ashamed.

  Adelaide dropped to her knees next to Regulus and let the knife slip out of her hand. He pushed himself up.

  “Stop! Wait! How badly are you hurt?” She put her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to lie on his back. That’s when she noticed the arrow in his left arm.

  He grasped her hand with his right hand and sat up. Blood ran down the side of his face. “I’m fine. Honestly.”

  “You’re hurt!”

  Regulus lifted his right shoulder but kept his left arm still. “I’ve been worse.”

  Her chest heaved as she looked him up and down. Regulus’ clothes were torn. Moonlight reflected off the blood on his face and on his arm around the arrow, and he might have additional wounds she couldn’t see. “Is anything broken?”

  He winced as he shifted. “I don’t think so.” He still held her hand in his. “What are you doing out here?”

  “I was going for a walk.” She pulled her right hand free and reached for his head. He gasped and jerked away when she touched his hairline. She clenched her jaw. “What happened?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “You’re hurt! And Nolan...it matters!”

  “I’ll be fine.” He rubbed a circle on her hand with his thumb. “Thank you.”