Page 61 of Prince of Shadow and Ash

After watching the first pair of contestants, Regulus reentered the arena. He shook hands with Sir Arthur, a bald man in his early forties built of lean muscle, before putting on his helm. Regulus attacked first, and Arthur parried with expert ease. Regulus half-smiled under his helm. This would be a good duel.

They moved back and forth across the arena, attacking and parrying, thrusting and blocking, swinging and dodging. Regulus kept positioning himself on Arthur’s right, causing him to lean more and more onto his dominant side. As Regulus dodged a thrust of Arthur’s sword, he moved toward the left and let Arthur continue to attack. The swing from left to right finally came. Regulus stepped back, not blocking or parrying. He had to lean away to avoid the tip of Arthur’s blade. Right as Arthur’s center of balance shifted a little too far to the right, Regulus swung his sword.

Arthur was too far off center to block the attack, and Regulus’ blade slammed into Arthur’s back. Arthur stumbled and Regulus landed hits on Arthur’s chest and back. As Arthur blocked, Regulus pushed toward Arthur’s right. Arthur tripped. Regulus slammed his shoulder into Arthur’s left side, and his opponent fell onto his right knee. With a mighty swing of his sword, Regulus knocked Arthur’s sword out of his hands. The sword hit the ground a couple feet away. Arthur held up his hands.

The crowd of spectators cheered. The sound filled Regulus to his core. He could imagine a different life, a version of himself that the nobles didn’t mistrust or resent. He offered Arthur his hand. Arthur ignored him as he stood and fetched his sword. The rejection tore the illusion away. Regulus sighed, removed his helm, and bowed to the spectators. Adelaide beamed, but her smile seemed dimmed.

Maybe she noticed Sir Arthur’s snub. Does she wonder now about giving her token to the son of a servant? Or maybe I’m so convinced this is too good to be true I’m looking for negatives.He smiled and clapped his hand over her token on his arm. She blushed.I’m overthinking it.He walked out of the arena.

Carrick won his match, which on the one hand irritated Regulus. He showed no grace in victory, only smug conceit. He entered the arena with the laidback carriage and playful, crowd-winning smile of a man entering a party and left with a kiss for the spectators, a swagger in his step, and a smirk on his face. On the other hand, Regulus now had a one in four chance of facing Carrick in the next round. Never had Regulus so strongly wished to cross steel with a particular person. He forced aside the mental image of knocking Carrick to the ground and focused on the next contestants. He had a one in four chance of dueling Carrick but had equal chances of fighting the other winners. So he studied his potential opponents.

A fifteen-minute recess was called to give the winners time to catch their breath and adjust their armor. Perceval leaned back, his elbows resting on top of the fence.

“Got some decent competition there, Captain.” Perceval nodded thoughtfully. “A few of ‘em might even make good mercenaries.”

Regulus laughed. “Don’t let them hear you. Pretty sure you’ll offend them.”

“Eh, I can take any of ‘em.” Perceval shrugged. None of them argued. Perce was the best swordsman Regulus knew. He’d even beaten Regulus once.

After the break, the herald announced the last four pairs. Carrick would face Sir Bartley. Regulus would face Lord Barden. Based on their fighting styles, Regulus predicted a win for Carrick. Lord Barden wouldn’t be difficult. His aggressive style counted on beating down his opponent so he couldn’t strike back. Accordingly, Barden left himself open for counterattack. All Regulus had to do was accept a couple blows rather than blocking them.

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ADELAIDE WINCED ASLord Barden landed two powerful blows in quick succession on Regulus’ chest. Was he eventryingto block them? Barden swung again, and Adelaide flinched as the blow landed on Regulus’ shoulder. Regulus slammed his sword across Barden’s abdomen. Barden stumbled back. The crowd gasped. Regulus attacked without pause. Barden tried to block and parry, but his defense was weak. Regulus swung and Barden’s sword flew out of his grasp. Adelaide held her breath. Barden raised his hands, yielding the fight. Adelaide applauded, feeling an inordinate amount of pride.

Still, nerves made her twitchy. Nolan had won his match, with a good show of skill, at that. Regulus had a fifty-fifty chance of facing Nolan in the semi-final round. She had confidence Regulus would best Nolan. And yet... She knew Nolan’s type. If Regulus lost, Nolan would interpret that as a clear sign of his superiority and Regulus’ unworthiness. That was how chivalry worked in romances, wasn’t it? Disputes were decided by arms. Suffering defeat while wearing a lady’s token dishonored the lady. To the victor go the spoils.

Nonsense.Love isn’t won on the battlefield. A heart is not a trophy.But Nolan would see a victory in the field as proof Regulus wasn’t worthy of her. Before and after each duel, Nolan made eye contact with her. He winked as he bowed. Mouthedfor youas he held up his sword in celebration. He blew a kiss to the crowd after each victory, but the look in his eyes said the kiss was for her.

I don’t want your victories and I don’t want your kisses!If Regulus won, perhaps Nolan would be too ashamed to approach her again.Please win, Regulus.

The herald announced the round. First up, Regulus and Sir Morrigan, not Nolan. Then Nolan and Lord Thealane. Regulus won his round with ease. He seemed to have found his rhythm.

A nobleman nearby said, “That mercenary is unstoppable.” Adelaide found the speaker and watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was pudgy and balding.

“Seems unfair,” said a man with a thick silvery blond beard. “Over half these men haven’t seen real battle. We’ve been playing war at tournaments for over twenty-five years. The mercenary, though...”

“True,” Balding said. “He’s probably killed more men than some of these competitors have sparred with. But can’t refuse him entry because he has more experience.”

“Probably should have based on his bastardy, though,” said a third man she couldn’t see around the other two.

Minerva put a hand on hers and whispered, “Ignore them.”

“He has a name,” she muttered. “A title. He’s notthe mercenary.”

“People are selfish and cruel, Ad.” Minerva leaned forward, forcing Adelaide to look into her eyes.

“Why can’t they get over themselves?” Adelaide gripped her skirt in her hands.

“You know why. The nobles think what is different taints their carefully constructed superiority. Lord Hargreaves is very different. They aren’t likely to accept him easily.” Minerva pushed Adelaide’s hair over her shoulder. “Adelaide, if talk like that is going to bother you, you can’t court him.”

Adelaide stiffened.

“If you marry him, that won’t stop the whispers. It may make them worse.” Minerva bit her lip. “We have both heard the things people have said about Mother and Father. I know some nobles are less than thrilled about me and Gaius. If you can’t have thick skin, your relationship with Regulus will fall apart.” She squeezed Adelaide’s hand. “You will have to be certain you love him more than you need acceptance.”

Adelaide shifted on the bench. “You don’t have to be right all the time, you know.”

“That’s why I’m here, don’t you know.” They laughed.

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