Prince of Shadow and Ash

by Selina R. Gonzalez

  “Bad news, Reg,” Dresden said. “Your horse has stolen your lady. You’re only handsome, but he’s gorgeous.”

  She shook her head at Dresden, then looked back at the horse. Sieger’s wavy black forelock tickled the back of her hand as she rubbed between his eyes.

  “He likes you,” Regulus said. “He’s picky about who he lets touch his face.”

  “I’d best let you get to the arena.” She scratched under Sieger’s chin. “Take care of him, Sieger.” The horse whinnied, as if agreeing.

  Regulus tensed. His hand moved to his belt, but he wasn’t wearing a sword for the joust. Adelaide followed his icy gaze as she turned around. Nolan stared at Regulus with obvious rage and a little confusion.

  “Competing, Hargreaves?”

  Her stomach twisted at the venom in his words.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” Regulus said flatly.

  Nolan shrugged, his armor creaking. A vein in his temple pulsed. “Sure you’re in good enough shape to hold your own with a lance?”

  “I’ll manage fine.”

  “Hm.” Nolan shifted his gaze from Regulus to Adelaide. His eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head to the side, considering her. “You look...enchanting, my lady.”

  A feeling like a ball of hot lead settled behind her sternum. He knows. Oh, Etiros, he knows. She swallowed against the tightness in her throat.

  Nolan eyed her token in Regulus’ hand. “Hopefully you don’t regret that.” He offered a curt bow and continued on, followed by a squire leading a large white horse with a braided mane and tail.

  “Hey.” Regulus put a hand on her shoulder. “Ignore him.”

  She forced a smile and laughed nervously. “Yes. I’ll see you soon.” She rushed away, weaving between knights and mounts and servants.

  Minerva frowned as Adelaide approached. “What happened? You look frightened.”

  Adelaide gulped. Her fear was that obvious? “Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine.” Gaius shook his head. “Shouldn’t have let you go alone.”

  “Nothing happened. I just...” What could she say? Gaius didn’t know her secret. And there were so many people around.

  Gaius’ expression softened. “He’ll be fine. He seemed all right last night, and he’s strong. If he has anywhere near the skill on a horse that he demonstrated yesterday on foot, I’m sure he’s in no danger.”

  “Thank you, Gaius.”

  As they walked toward the stands, she pulled Minerva back. With their arms linked, she leaned in close. “I need to tell you something about last night.”

  Minerva glanced at her but said nothing.

  “I messed up. It was an accident. I saw Regulus on the ground, getting pummeled. I didn’t mean to. It just happened.” She glanced around, making sure no one appeared to be trying to overhear her whispered conversation.

  “What happened, Adelaide?” Minerva’s hushed words came out in a rush.

  “Fire. I threw fire at them. I said I had a torch that went out,” Adelaide added in response to Minerva’s horrified squeak. “But, I think they bought it. Most of them.”

  “Adelaide...”

  “Regulus knows.” Adelaide lowered her head, keeping her voice as quiet as possible. The sounds of the chattering crowd also headed to the joust helped hide their conversation. “You were right. He’d seen magic before. He didn’t care, and he promised not to tell. And I trust him.”

  “Then why do you look so worried?”

  “Nolan.” Her lower lip trembled. “I saw him just now. The look he gave me...something he said... I think he knows.” Her breath came out shaky.

  “Are you certain?” Minerva clutched Adelaide’s arm, her fingers digging into her skin.

  “He’s at least suspicious. Curious.” She adjusted her arm, and Minerva’s grip lessened. “What do I do, Min?”

  Her sister shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m not sure there is anything you can do, other than be cautious and alert. This is why Mother and Father didn’t want you using your abilities.”

  “It’s not as if something like this hasn’t happened before,” Adelaide reminded her. “It’s part of why I wanted to learn. To control it.”

  “That’s working splendidly.”

  Adelaide looked at the ground.

  “I’m sorry. That was cruel. It’s going to be all right. Worrying won’t fix it. So let’s enjoy the joust, and figure out what to do if, and only if, this becomes a problem.”

  “All right.” She nodded as the tightness in her chest eased. “Good.”

  They found some seats close to Baron Carrick’s box. All the signs of the feast from last night were gone, replaced by a tilt, the wooden fence running down the middle of the length of the rectangular arena. Once nearly everyone was seated, a herald sounded a trumpet, and the competitors rode into the lists. People applauded, loud cheers going up now and then as favorites rode past. The competitors, twenty-six in all, rode once around the arena. They sported a variety of decorative pieces, from plumes on helms to full body caparisons on horses. Some knights, such as Regulus, had little to no decoration, and wore simple armor. While all the horses wore criniere armor pieces over their chests, they had a wide range of barding, from full armor to only the criniere.

  Regulus received a few cheers from people who had been impressed with his performance in the sword competition. He nodded at Adelaide as he passed, a crooked smile beneath his raised visor. She heard the name “Belanger” from someone seated lower down in the stands and strained to hear, even though her gut told her she shouldn’t.

  “Well,” a man said, “he traveled all over as a mercenary. Probably developed a taste for foreign women.”

  “Not to be crude,” a woman said, “but it seems fitting, doesn’t it? They’re both mongrels of sorts.”

  A loud cheer as another jouster rode past drowned out the conversation. Other conversations filled her ears, and she couldn’t hear any more. Adelaide’s eyes stung. She gritted her teeth. But the woman was right, in a way.

  They were both mongrels of sorts, although she hated that derisive term. Both looked down on because of their parentage. Maybe it was fitting, but not in the judgmental way the snobby noblewoman thought. Perhaps that was why they were so comfortable. Why they understood each other so well.

  She watched Regulus ride out of the arena, a pleasant warmth settling in her chest. Let them talk. Their talk had never determined her worth, and it wouldn’t define her now. Talk didn’t determine Regulus’ worth, either. And if they couldn’t see him for the good man he was—a man who wouldn’t press charges against his attackers, a man who accepted her secret without question, fear, or selfishness, a lord who treated his knights as equals—their loss.

  The first competitors took their lances, and Adelaide got caught up in the excitement of the joust. Baron Carrick had opted to choose combatants at random, rather than using a tree of shields. Apparently last year the right to choose your own opponent had been abused to further personal feuds, and Carrick wanted to keep things civil.

  To her right, a knight with a small metal eagle with spread wings on his helm rode a dappled gray destrier with hooves the size of supper plates. On the other side of the arena, a knight rode a blue roan with a spiked chanfron over its face. Hooves pounded the ground as they charged, sending up little clouds of dust. Lances shattered with a resounding crack. The first pass ended in a tie, with both men landing solid hits on the other’s ecranche, the small shield affixed to the left shoulder. Both lances broke. Three points out of a possible four—one for broken lance, two for hitting the ecranche. They had two more passes to secure victory in the round. Unless, of course, one unhorsed his opponent in the second pass.

  Adelaide shifted forward in her seat as the knights re-queued. The horses nickered and pawed at the ground, waiting for the squires to release them to charge again. The knights picked up their lances and the squires dropped the reins. A roar went up from the crowd as the horses surg
ed forward, power in the thunder of their hoof falls. The knight on the blue roan struggled to couch his lance, and the tip bounced off his opponent’s breastplate. Eagle knight’s lance crashed into the other knight’s solid visor. The lance exploded from the impact, sending shards flying high into the air. Adelaide gasped, as did most of the rest of the crowd, as the second knight’s head whipped back. His left hand grabbed desperately at the pommel of his saddle as he leaned backward until his back hovered over the blue roan’s flanks. But he kept his seat.

  One point for the knight on the blue roan. Four for eagle-helm knight. Adelaide enjoyed the joust for the tension, the uncertainty of it all. The eagle knight’s chances looked good. He just needed to get another good hit. But if their luck reversed in the third tilt and they tied, they would have to take an extra pass. If the blue roan knight could unhorse eagle knight, he would win. She tapped her hands on her lap in anticipation.

  The knights charged forward again. Their horses leaned away from each other as they met in the center of the arena. The snap of breaking lances echoed as pieces of wood scattered. Blue roan knight had managed a clean hit on eagle knight’s chest but had missed the ecranche. Eagle knight hit the ecranche and won by four points.

  Adelaide applauded. The knights exited the arena and the next competitors entered while servants cleared wood shards from the ground. The matches flew by, not least because of how easy it was to get caught up in the crowd's fervor. Nolan won his match. She didn’t applaud him. He didn’t acknowledge her.

  At last, Regulus entered the lists. Green fabric fluttered around his right bicep, tied around his armor. He smiled at her before closing his visor over his face. Only two thin slits indicated where his eyes were under his helm. His opponent, a knight who looked more mountain than man, rode a brown destrier as large as Sieger. How in creation is anyone supposed to unhorse him! A caparison of red chevrons on a field of dark blue covered the horse to its knees. She recognized the heraldry. Must be Sir Edgar Druadan.

  Her heart pounded as Regulus and Sir Druadan charged each other. As hooves threw up clots of dirt and horse nostrils flared, they leveled their lances. Adelaide leaned forward, clenching her fists. The impact of their lances on each other’s ecranches and the simultaneous burst of lances into tinder sounded like a clap of thunder. Both men swayed in their seats, but kept their balance. The crowd roared in delight. Adelaide released a shaky breath.

  They rode to the end of the arena and wheeled around. Pages handed them fresh lances. Minerva reached over and squeezed her fist.

  “Relax!”

  “I remember you being similarly tense last time Gaius tilted,” she scolded.

  Minerva laughed. “All right, that’s true.”

  Her gaze remained trained on Regulus as the horses leapt forward. The pounding of their hooves seemed to vibrate in her chest. Both men’s heads snapped backward as lances met helms. Her eyes widened and her nails bit into her palms. Splintered wood rained onto the ground. Regulus swayed but made it to the end of the arena. Harold turned Sieger around. Regulus shook his head and adjusted his helm before taking a new lance. She looked to the opposite end of the lists. Druadan had also maintained his seat. They were tied.

  Her jaw hurt from clenching her teeth. She released a long exhale and tried to shake some of the tension from her shoulders. Both men raised their lances, signaling they were ready. Their squires released the reins. The horses charged. Adelaide pressed her palms together and raised her hands to her mouth, her thumbs tucked under her chin. Hooves thudded. The crowd cheered.

  Druadan’s lance pummeled into Regulus’ visor, pushing his head back as the lance snapped in half. Regulus’ lance slammed into the left side of Druadan’s chest, just shy of his ecranche. The lance bowed. Regulus leaned forward, even as his head whipped backward. Adelaide gasped.

  Druadan leaned back in his saddle. The broken lance slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground. Regulus’ lance burst, sending out shards like dozens of forcefully thrown wooden knives. Druadan flailed as he twisted backward and sideways over his horse’s flank. He hit the ground with a clang. Regulus had won.

  Adelaide leapt to her feet, applauding as a cacophony of cheers, gasps, and boos erupted from the crowd. Regulus leaned forward on Sieger, his head swaying from side to side. She froze. Oh, Etiros, please. Let him be all right.

  Harold seized the reins and stopped Sieger. Adelaide looked over the heads of other standing spectators, watching with bated breath. Regulus removed his helm and looked back over his shoulder. He caught her gaze and smiled. Relief rushed over her as she smiled back.

  Chapter 30

  REGULUS STRETCHED HIS neck. The pain was fading, but that was cutting it close. Sure, he had seen knights take similar blows and walk away. But not exactly fine; a hit like that often sent knights home. Hopefully, everyone was too caught up with his opponent’s unhorsing to notice him take a blow that could have snapped his neck in half. In fact, he suspected something had cracked. The sorcerer’s dark magic was at work, making his neck tingle and ache.

  Once free, he would have to relearn how to fight without the ability to take risks he knew might kill him. Learn how to fight to live again, instead of accepting he couldn’t die.

  One thing he knew, he wouldn’t miss how it felt. The pinching, the burning, the prickling. So different from Adelaide’s healing. That had been soothing. Cool and warm all at once. Numbing and mending without pain and leaving no scars. If it wasn’t already clear that the sorcerer’s healing came from a place of corrupted magic, Adelaide’s magic proved it.

  As Regulus stretched and waited for his next joust, his thoughts wandered. What a pair they made. Adelaide also carried a weighty secret that she lived in fear of someone discovering. But her secret, while dangerous, at least was not bad. Not like his. He worried that the pure magic in her would sense the corrupt magic in him. But if she hadn’t detected it yet, she couldn’t, right?

  He had to tell her the truth.

  He rubbed Sieger’s neck as he checked him over, looking for any cuts or protruding bits of lance. The simple criniere protected Sieger’s shoulders and chest, the areas most susceptible to damage from broken lances. He had a couple small nicks on his lower legs, but nothing concerning.

  The roar of the crowd provided a buzzing backdrop to his thoughts. He had to tell her, but the thought of losing her made his heart physically ache. Was that ridiculous? He hadn’t even known Adelaide long, yet... He felt like he had known her forever. Or like he had been waiting forever to know her.

  Dresden sauntered over and stood on the opposite side of Sieger. He leaned across the saddle. “It should please you to know that Adelaide looked absolutely terrified for you.”

  Regulus’ brow furrowed. “Why would that please me? I don’t want her terrified.”

  “When you’re jousting? Yes, you do, numbskull.” Drez rolled his eyes. “She’s scared you’ll get hurt. It means she cares about you and what happens to you. The more terrified, the more she cares.”

  “I, on the other hand,” said a smug voice behind him that he quickly recognized as Carrick’s, “sincerely hope you fall and break your neck.”

  Regulus turned as Carrick’s page led his horse past, but Carrick paused.

  “I’d rather hoped your neck would snap with that last hit, but I guess it wasn’t as hard a hit as I wanted it to be.”

  “What exactly is your problem?” Dresden rounded Sieger’s flank.

  Carrick looked down his nose at Dresden. “Your master and I are talking, Carasian.”

  Regulus put himself between Drez and Carrick before Drez did anything stupid. “I hold no malice for you, Sir Carrick. I see no reason for this continued hostility.”

  “You hold no malice for me?” Carrick laughed. “Ah, but I have more than enough for you. You’ve taken something I want, something I need. I won’t rest until she’s mine.”

  Regulus’ hand curled into a fist. His jaw tensed. “Adelaide is not something to be
taken or owned. She’s a person who makes her own choices.”

  “Then she’s made a profoundly stupid choice.” Carrick stepped closer. “She should be honored I want her. Flattered that someone of my quality would desire her, common Khastallander mother and all. And yet she settles for a nobody.” He sneered. “An illegitimate mutt turned mercenary who doesn’t deserve the title he shouldn’t even have.”

  Regulus exhaled. If he could keep his temper when taunted by the sorcerer, he could do so when facing Carrick. Several nearby lords, knights and squires watched them out of the corner of their eyes. Not one said anything. Suddenly, Regulus latched onto something Carrick had said. “What do you mean, you need her?”

  “Doesn’t matter. I just want you to know the stakes. I have no intention of playing fair. If I were you, I’d bow out before anyone gets hurt.”

  Regulus stepped forward, capitalizing on his height to look as menacing as possible. “Are you threatening Adelaide?”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt her.” He glanced at Dresden, then looked back at Regulus and sneered. “I’m saying you should consider what you’re willing to lose to keep her.” He walked after his horse toward the arena.

  “Did...did he just threaten me?” Dresden sputtered.

  “I think it was a pretty generalized threat against me and anyone in my circle,” Regulus said grimly. “He’s insane.” All the same, he sent up a quick prayer to Etiros that Carrick wouldn’t act on his threats.

  Drez gestured at the men in the area and muttered, “And no one cares.”

  Regulus unseated his next opponent in the first pass, which the crowd greeted with exuberant cheers and some disgruntled boos. The next joust he won by five points. Then he faced Carrick.

  His anger flared as he stared at Carrick down the list. Carrick gave him a smug smile before closing his visor. “I’d bow out before anyone gets hurt.” Should have heeded your own advice, Carrick. Sieger shifted beneath him, eager to charge. Regulus adjusted his grip on his lance and raised it above his head. Carrick did the same. Harold released the reins.