Page 81 of Prince of Shadow and Ash

“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 youcando, 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.

Theywereboth 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 surged 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.

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