Page 58 of Prince of Shadow and Ash

Chapter 22

ADELAIDE SIGHED ASCarrick jabbed his sword into the air, celebrating his victory. Part of her had expected him to be all style and no substance, despite William Carrick’s advice not to bet against him. When Lord Thorne appeared to have the upper hand, she felt smug. But once Nolan moved to the offensive, she realized he had always been in control. He had a plan from the beginning, and it worked. Reluctantly, she applauded as he removed his helm. Nolan had his faults, but hehadapologized. He had not approached her since the afternoon prior. And based on his congenial handshake with Regulus before the contestants entered the field, they must have worked out their differences. It made her dislike him a little less.

Carrick looked directly at her as he bowed. He flashed a charming smile and mouthed something that looked like“for you.” She clenched her jaw as he turned and swaggered out of the arena.Never mind. Some might find his determined pursuit attractive, but she found it annoying. What was his goal, wear her down until she was so tired of saying no, she said yes? How unromantic.

Regulus leaned against the fence, a deep, thoughtful frown on his face. He looked toward her, and Adelaide smiled. His expression softened, and his hand strayed to the strip of fabric fastened to his arm. Minerva poked her side.

“The next competitors have entered the field, in case you missed it while making love eyes at Lord Hargreaves.”

Adelaide scowled. “You’re ridiculous. What evenarelove eyes?”

“The look you were just giving Regulus Hargreaves.” Min laughed as Adelaide rolled her eyes.

“How convenient and vague a definition.” She looked back at Regulus, but he had turned his attention to the new combatants.

Nobles from as young as seventeen to as old as fifty took their turns in the arena. Most fights ended quickly. Others had her on the edge of her seat as evenly matched opponents went back and forth, gaining and losing the upper-hand at staggering speed. Between each match she looked to Regulus, and he always met her gaze before turning his attention back to the combat.

Finally, Regulus entered the field. Her pulse quickened. Regulus nodded at Adelaide before he turned to his opponent. Regulus was taller Sir Morris MacCombe, but they had similar muscular builds and the same air of resolve as they shook hands. She remembered liking Sir MacCombe at the Carrick’s dance, but she hoped Regulus beat him. A loss wouldn’t change her feelings, but she wanted Carrick to see Regulus win. And she didn’t care to see the disappointed expression Regulus had after he lost the archery contest again.

Regulus pulled on his helm and took up his stance. Feet planted, knees bent. Chin tucked in as he looked through his visor. Adelaide leaned forward and wrapped her fingers around the edge of the wooden bench.

MacCombe shifted to his right, and Regulus did the same, moving his feet in a fluid movement close to the ground. The men circled for a moment, sizing each other up. Both moved at the same time. Their swords met with a ringing clang. Their blades parted as they both carried through their momentum and stepped back. MacCombe swung. Adelaide gripped the bench harder.

Regulus parried, pushing MacCombe’s blade aside. As MacCombe adjusted, Regulus attacked, but MacCombe blocked then pushed back. Regulus retreated but kept his guard up and his stance forward. They ranged back and forth, a flurry of attacks, parries, and blocks. Adelaide scarcely blinked.

“Lord Hargreaves is good, isn’t he?” Minerva murmured.

“Indeed,” Gaius said. “I’d heard he was, but...my word. He’s impressive. Did you see how—”

“Shush!” Adelaide released her iron grip on the bench to wave in Gaius’ direction.

Minerva giggled. “Are we not allowed to talk about your suitor?”

Adelaide pursed her lips but didn’t take her eyes off the duel. “You’re distracting me from the sparring.”

Gaius chuckled and whispered something to Minerva that made her laugh and hold her belly. Adelaide ignored them, focused on Regulus’ every movement.

Regulus moved with ease and controlled awareness. She knew what control looked like. It took control to throw knives quickly with accuracy. A subconscious awareness of your body, of each miniscule movement of your arm from your shoulder to the tips of your fingers. Honed control of the rotation of your shoulder, the straightening of your elbow, even your breathing. Practice until control and awareness became second nature, the movement reflexive, the knives an extension of your hand. That was how Regulus moved. With precision. But there was something else.

He was holding back.

She couldn’t pinpoint how she knew. Something about the ease with which he swung his sword. The way he pressed into an attack, but not as far as he could. A forceful parry where he seemed to stop short. It was miniscule. But there was an energy there she knew all too well. A pent-up power that tried to push itself out of every limb. The constrained feeling of keeping her magic caged when it coursed through her and she wanted to let it out, to release the power trapped inside. Something in her gut told her Regulus had strength he wasn’t letting out. She just couldn’t understand why.

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