Page 35 of Prince of Shadow and Ash

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REGULUS SLEPT FOR Aday and a half after arriving back at his estate. When he emerged from his room, he headed to Arrano’s overgrown garden. Dresden appeared out of nowhere, waving a piece of parchment in the bright sunlight.

“I come bearing good news!”

Regulus eyed the parchment and grunted. He turned down another grass-infested path, his sword bumping a stone bench. As ever, Magnus followed close behind, his shaggy tan tail wagging leisurely, large pink tongue hanging out of his black muzzle.

“Oh, cheer up.” Drez propped his arm on Regulus’ shoulder and leaned on him, holding up the parchment. “‘To Lord Regulus Hargreaves of Arrano,’” he read aloud. “‘Sir Thomas Glower and Dame Isabelle Glower cordially invite you to join them for a feast to be held on their estate a week hence on the eleventh of Verdanmunth at six o’clock in the evening.’ I told their messenger you would attend.”

“Great. This is meant to cheer me?” Regulus shrugged Dresden off his shoulder.

“That’s only half of the good news.” Drez pulled another letter from the back of his belt and held it out, the unbroken seal toward Regulus. “I even had the courtesy not to read this one, despite my curiosity.”

The wax bore an impression of a rearing unicorn. Regulus’ breath caught, but he wouldn’t give Dresden the satisfaction of admitting it. Unfortunately, he grabbed the parchment too eagerly, and Drez laughed.

Regulus turned away and opened the letter. The words indented the parchment and globs of ink marred the letters, as if she had been pressing too hard.

Dear Lord Regulus Hargreaves,

I apologize for any offense I caused. Please forgive my impertinence. I had no idea the Carricks were so prejudiced as to not invite you. If it helps, it was a miserable party. I hope I’ll see you at some other party. I’ve had my fill of shallow nobles, and your honesty and acceptance are refreshing.

Sincerely,

Lady Adelaide Belanger

Regulus leaned against a tree, willing his heart to stop dancing. He should put the letter down. He should burn it. Instead, he read it again. And again. And again.

“Well, is it good news? Because you’re clutching it like you’re afraid it will turn to ash in your hands, and your expression keeps flickering between pleased and confused.”

Regulus hesitated, then handed the letter to Dresden. Dresden read it and grinned as he handed it back. “I’m so glad I told the Glowers you’re going. She’ll likely be there.”

“You’re incorrigible.”And irritating. I can’t see her again.Because he knew, deep down, he wouldn’t be able to stay away from her.

“Pick a good outfit—”

“Drez.” Regulus rubbed Magnus’ head. “The sorcerer says I’m getting close, but... I killed a dragon, and even that’s not enough.”

“You killed a dragon?”

“Did you saydragon?” a voice asked from Regulus’ right.

Two of his knights, Caleb and Estevan, walked toward them. Both men wore swords at their sides. As usual, Estevan was playing with a knife. This one had a round hole in the end of the hilt, and he was spinning it around his forefinger and catching the grip. Spin, catch. Spin the opposite direction, catch.

Regulus didn’t know where Estevan was from, because Estevan himself wasn’t sure. His family were gypsies, and his accent was a strange amalgam of places he’d lived. A liberal sprinkling of freckles covered his tan face. His thick, curly brown hair refused to be tamed. The wing of a tattoo of a gryphon on his back peeked out from under his shirt collar at his shoulder. At twenty-two, Estevan was the youngest of Regulus’ knights, and accordingly, the cockiest.

“Dragon,” Regulus confirmed.

“Like, big, scaly, horned, fire-breathing, winged dragon?” Estevan pressed.

“Yes to everything but the wings.”

Estevan whistled. “You kill it?”

“Barely.”

“It kill you?” Estevan grinned.

“Hey!” Caleb smacked Estevan’s shoulder. “Show a little respect.”

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