| |
AFTER REMOVING HIS armor, Regulus double-checked each knot holding the tent flap closed. Dresden sat lounging on a stool in front of the entrance as an extra precaution. Caleb had pulled out his lute and was playing it as loudly as possible. All the surrounding tents were his knights’, but Regulus couldn’t chance a passerby hearing anything suspicious.
He pulled a chain out from under his armor and over his head. The key hanging on the chain glinted in the lamplight. His hand hovered in front of the lock as he crouched in front of the chest. The mark burned hotter, the pain sharpening as he hesitated. A reminder the sorcerer would not be denied or ignored. He unlocked the chest and pulled out the mirror, then hooked it on a nail he had hammered into the tent post next to his cot for this exact eventuality.
With a deep breath he focused on keeping the anger and bitterness out of his face and voice. He wouldn’t risk incurring the sorcerer’s wrath in the middle of the tournament campground. “I’m here, my lord.”
The mirror shimmered, and the sorcerer appeared. His hood was thrown back, revealing graying brown hair pulled away from his face. Regulus stifled a gasp. He had never seen the sorcerer’s eyes before. The whites were bloodshot around coal-black irises rimmed with a thin line of green.
“Good! I—” The sorcerer squinted. “What are you doing? Where are you? This isn’t familiar.” He moved closer to the mirror, craning his head as if to look around Regulus’ tent. “Where are you?”
What good would lying do him? “I’m competing in a tournament.”
“A tournament? Interesting. Winning, I’d imagine.”
“Yes, my lord,” he kept his voice level, “but on my own strength.” I don’t owe you anything.
“Hmph. Ungrateful idiot. But that’s not relevant right now.” The sorcerer tugged on his beard, his movements frantic. “I’ve hit a wall. It’s infuriating. You get so close to everything you’ve planned, you think you’ve thought of everything, that vengeance is finally assured, and just like that...a wall. A wall of my own creating! Isn’t that darkly poetic.” He glowered at Regulus, as if whatever wall he was talking about was Regulus’ fault.
Regulus didn’t respond. The sorcerer would get to the point eventually.
“Fix one problem, create another. Just have to do it all over again!” The sorcerer shook his head. “If those thrice-cursed mages weren’t already long dead, I’d kill them. Such a hassle. Should have seen it coming, though.”
Regulus tried to look uninterested and keep his confusion hidden. What mages? Should have seen what coming?
“No matter. Always work-arounds. See you, for example.” The sorcerer chuckled to himself. “Just time-consuming. And requires precision. And it’s exhausting.”
Regulus clenched his jaw. Don’t ask. Obey. Pay your debt. If he earned his release, he could court Adelaide. The thought made him much more willing to play the obedient servant.
“I need several very specific things from you,” the sorcerer continued. “So pay attention. One thing out of place, and this won’t work. And if this doesn’t work, I swear by every dark curse I know I will kill you and everyone you care about. Understand?”
Regulus swallowed and nodded. “Yes, my lord.” He was grateful the sorcerer didn’t know about Adelaide. Just follow his instructions, and no one will be hurt.
“Good.” The sorcerer crossed his arms. “First, I need a circlet of silver. It must be pure silver, no other metals. Second, I need a bushel of white flowers. Doesn’t matter what kind, but they must be white. Third, I need clamshells. Eight large shells should do it. Fourth, and this is where things get difficult, I need the blood of an innocent person. Doesn’t have to be a lot, just a few drops. And finally, I need a foot-long piece of a root of a neumenet tree.”
“What?” Regulus gaped. “Blood?”
“Of an innocent person, that’s important.” The sorcerer waved his hand. “Yours won’t do.”
Regulus winced, guilt pricking his conscience, but moved on to another problem. “What’s a neumenet tree?”
The sorcerer groaned. “Don’t you know anything?”
Regulus stayed silent.
“Useless. Neumenet trees were considered sacred for thousands of years. They’re very rare, and strong vessels of magic energy. People used to try to conceive their children in their shade, hoping to have a baby born with magic abilities. Sometimes worked, too. They have bark like obsidian and leaves that look like shards of glass but feel like feathers.”
“And where do I find one?”
“There’s one in Holgren Forest.”
“But that’s a royal forest!”
The sorcerer thrashed his teeth. “And I’m the Prince of Shadow and Ash! That forest belongs to me!”
Regulus recoiled. He had claimed that title the first time Regulus met him. Had bound him to tell any who asked the Black Knight who he was that he served the Prince of Shadow and Ash. Regulus had assumed the sorcerer was being grandiose. But now he realized—the sorcerer seemed to think himself actually royal.
“With all due respect, my lord,” Regulus said, trying to sound as humble as possible, “I don’t think any sheriffs or forest rangers will care.”
“Well,” the sorcerer grinned coldly, “then kill them. Better yet, don’t get caught.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Now, tell me what you’re bringing me.”
Regulus sighed. “A circlet of pure silver. A bushel of white flowers. Eight clamshells. The...” he swallowed, his mouth dry, “the blood of an innocent person. The root of a neumenet tree.” Whatever such specific and odd ingredients were for, he suspected he would regret being a part of it. As if the sorcerer interrupting a wonderful moment wasn’t bad enough, that made his mood worse.
“Good. Make your plans. I must have everything before the next full moon, do you understand?”
Regulus shook his head, trying not to let his irritation with the sorcerer’s tone show on his face. “When is the next full moon?”
“You are such an idiot.” The sorcerer rolled his eyes. “A useful idiot, luckily for you.”
Regulus clenched his teeth.
“Eleven days. You have eleven days. That should be enough time to gather everything. If I don’t have all the ingredients on the eleventh day, or if you bring me the wrong ingredients—I will consider your debt unfulfilled. And I will collect in full.”
He bit his tongue to stop his panicked protests as a shudder raced down his spine. “And...if I succeed, my lord?”
“Then we’ll be much closer to being even.” The image shimmered and reverted to a mirror.
Regulus stared at his scarred reflection. Eleven days. The mark had stopped burning. So long as he intended to obey, the mark should leave him alone. He could finish the tournament and still make it on time. He bit his cheek. “I will collect,” the sorcerer’s voice echoed in his mind. No. He wouldn’t be that selfish. He needed to leave Adelaide alone until he was free.
He locked the mirror back in the trunk and opened the flap of his tent. Dresden raised an eyebrow in a silent question. Regulus motioned him inside. Caleb continued to play his lute.
“What did he want?” Dresden sat on the small stool next to Regulus’ bed.
“Flowers. Clamshells. A pure silver circlet. The root of a magical tree in a royal forest. Oh, and the blood of an innocent person.”
Dresden gawked. “What?”
“I know.” Regulus sat down on his cot and put his head in his hands. “He’s doing something, working to accomplish some plan. He needs all of that before the next full moon, in eleven days.” He dug his fingers into his skull. “If I don’t get him the right ingredients on time, he will consider my debt unfulfilled and collect.”
“But...that would mean...”
“Yes.” Regulus laid back on the cot, his hands clammy and stomach churning. You’ll all be killed. Acid burned at his throat. “But if I do this, he said we’d be close to being even.”
“So the end is in sight.”
“But at what cost, Drez?” He sat back up and wiped his forehead with his sleeve. “I have no idea what I’m helping him do! I think...he might have designs on the throne.”
“Two years you’ve done his bidding. He’s holed up in that infernal tower. Maybe you’re wrong and he’s not dangerous.”
“Maybe.” I doubt it. He hung his head. “But I can’t refuse him. We know how that ends.”
They sat in silence for a couple minutes until Dresden suddenly sat up straighter. “Wait, eleven days?”
“Yes.”
Dresden grinned. “Then I propose you go dancing.”
“Drez—”
“Come on. It’ll cheer you right up. Get you to see some positives.”
“I can’t.” Regulus shook his head. “I was a fool. I can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Court Adelaide!” He yanked his sleeve up, revealing the mark. His face burned with humiliation and guilt. “I’m not the hero in a romance. I let myself forget it, but I received a cruel reminder today.”
“You said yourself, you’re getting close.” The gentleness and pity in Dresden’s eyes made Regulus more irritated. “You will be free one day. Live like it. You choose who—”
“I am, yes. Right.” He shook his head. “What if he orders me to do something I can’t? What if...” His throat tightened, and he closed his eyes.
“You won’t hurt her.”
He met Dresden’s eyes. “But what if—”
“You’ll do what he wants, and he’ll set you free.” Dresden spoke slowly, his palms pressed together.
“Free or not, after everything I’ve done...” Regulus slumped. “I’m not worthy.”
“Worthy? Etiros above, Regulus. You’re a respected swordsman, a lord who can live comfortably, the best commander I’ve ever met, and the kindest, most selfless man I know.”
Regulus flinched under the praise. “But I—”
“You are on the verge of having everything you never thought you could have. You’re a lord with loyal knights. You won a contest of swords, and people cheered. For you. They might not all accept you, but some of them are coming around. You’ve found a chance at love.”
Regulus rubbed the mark on his arm, his thumb pressing against the irregular scars. He wanted to believe Dresden. But he was a slave with blood-stained hands. He’d taken lives long before he met the sorcerer, but it wasn’t the same. Guilt weighed on his shoulders while frustration mounted. Anger at what the sorcerer had forced him to become. Anger at the guilt that wouldn’t die. Anger at Dresden for not understanding his despair.
“You can have a normal life,” Drez said. “You can stop hiding in your castle. Stop living behind this wall you’ve put up around yourself and I’ve only seen you lower around her. You don’t have to live the rest of your life shutting people out. Don’t throw that all away.”
“I don’t shut you out,” Regulus said weakly.
“Yes, you do!” Dresden stood and paced away. He turned around and Regulus recoiled from the anger in his friend’s eyes. “We know your secret, but you don’t let us help. You rarely tell us where you go or what you do. You push us all away! And don’t say to protect us. You do it because you’re too proud to admit you’re afraid.” Dresden shook his head. “After two years, I don’t know if I can keep having the same conversations with you, Reg. How can I hold you up when you’re so determined to drown!”
Regulus’ heart twisted as Dresden’s frustration stoked his own anger. He yanked his sleeve down. “If that’s how you feel, why don’t you go? I never asked you to stay!”
“You idiot!” Dresden cursed. “You didn’t have to!”
Regulus turned away. “Just leave.”
“No.” Dresden sat on the ground and folded his arms. “Not until you stop being a fool, believe that you’ll get through this, and agree to dance with Adelaide tonight and joust tomorrow. You didn’t come all the way here—”
“You don’t get it! You don’t understand what it’s like!” Regulus stood and pointed at the tent door, fury and hopelessness burning under his skin. He hadn’t asked for a lecture. “Get out!”
Dresden scowled. “I’m here as your friend. You can’t give me orders.”
“I can and I am. Leave, or I’ll throw you out.” Regulus pointed again, more emphatically, but Dresden didn’t budge. “Now, Jakobs! Go!”
Dresden turned crimson. “I see.” His neck muscles bulged as he swallowed hard and stood. “Anything you want me to do once I leave, Captain? Or is it my lord?” He gave a messy, low, mocking bow, his voice bitter. “Command me, master. I live to serve.”
Blood rushed to Regulus’ face. He dropped his hand to his side. Dresden turned toward the tent entrance.
“Drez, wait—”
“That’s a bit familiar for your servant, isn’t it, master?”
“I didn’t—” But Drez walked out of his tent. “...mean it.” Shame twisted Regulus’ stomach. He groaned and kicked the leg of the cot.
Regulus had never viewed Dresden as inferior, despite their often unequal and complicated relationship. Dresden calling Regulus master had only been to appease Regulus’ strict childhood guardian. One of many things Regulus had done over the years to protect his friend. But nothing could erase that Dresden had been little more than a slave for seven years. Nothing negated that there had been times as a captain when Regulus couldn’t make an exception, not even for his lieutenant. He shouldn’t have snapped. But it was Dresden’s own fault for pushing him. And Dresden shouldn’t have thrown such a low blow in return.
It took Regulus an hour to cool off and swallow his pride enough to leave his tent, but he couldn’t leave things like that. Caleb lounged in front of his own tent, strumming on his lute. Harold and Jerrick were talking while Harold polished a pair of boots. They all went silent and looked up at Regulus.
“He’s in his tent.” Jerrick looked at Regulus through narrowed eyes. “But enter at your own risk.”
Caleb plucked at a string on his lute, pointedly not making eye contact with Regulus. “Haven’t seen him that riled in a while.”
Thankfully, Dresden hadn’t fastened his tent door closed. Regulus ducked inside. Dresden had his double scimitars in both hands, moving through his drills between his cot and a small leather trunk. He spun around just as Regulus entered, and Regulus jumped back. Dresden lowered the blades and bowed his head.
“Yes, my lord?”
“Drez, don’t. I told you never to call me that.” Regulus chewed on his cheek. “I’m sorry, okay?” No, it’s not okay. “I crossed a line. I didn’t mean anything by it. And I’m sorry.”
Dresden’s scimitars twitched, but he raised his head.
“You’re right. I don’t talk to you.” Regulus rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, I’m afraid. Afraid I’ll hurt one of you. Afraid you’d lose all respect for me if you knew the things I’ve done.”
“Reg.” Drez sighed, hurt in his pinched expression. “Don’t you know me better than that? We’re brothers. We need each other. Being a lone wolf doesn’t make you stronger, just lonely and vulnerable. You used to tell the mercenaries wolves were strongest when they worked together. When did you stop believing that?”
When my presence became a threat. Drez didn’t give him time to reply.
“And we’re mercenaries. We’re not squeamish. Besides, it’s not you. It’s not who you are. You’re doing what you have to; it’s not like you enjoy it.”
“But I’m still doing it.” He stared at the trampled grass beneath his boots.
Dresden shuffled his feet. “If it was me...would you leave?”
Of course not. “I don’t know. You’ve never attacked me in cold blood.”
“I’ve felt like attacking you in hot blood.” A hint of mirth crept into Dresden’s voice. He placed the weapons on the trunk. “I’m still not abandoning you. Even if I have to tell you a hundred times a day: it’s going to be okay, you’ll make it through this, you’re still worthy, still my brother. And Regulus...it wasn’t you. If Harold and I can accept that, why can’t you?”
Because it was still my fault. The words stuck in his throat, too raw, too shameful and excruciating to let out of the darkness of his mind. Because I saw the light in your eyes fading, felt you dying as I squeezed your throat. Because your tear-stained face as you begged me to remember you—when I did, when I knew you, but I couldn’t control my own body—still haunts my dreams.
The cot squeaked as Dresden sat on it. “He hasn’t controlled you—”
“He has.” Regulus didn’t look at Dresden.
“...what?”
Regulus closed his eyes and spoke quietly. “Four times since then. Just not at the castle. A momentary hesitation, a brief refusal, temporary uncertainty. Usually just long enough to remind me he can. And I’ve been tortured so many times I’ve lost count.” The silence that followed his admission threatened to swallow him alive.
“Etiros above, Regulus. Why?”
Regulus opened his eyes. “He’s easily angered. And I’m...stubborn and resentful.”
“No. Why haven’t you told me?” Hurt reflected in Dresden’s eyes.
“Telling you doesn’t change it.”
“You’re a damned fool.”
“You’re right,” he murmured. “That’s why I don’t deserve Adelaide.”
Dresden was silent for a moment. “So? You haven’t endangered us; you won’t endanger her. Maybe having someone else to protect will help you be smarter. You’re better around her, Reg. More hopeful. You should tell her the truth.”
“What?” Regulus jerked his head up. “Are you out of your mind?”
“You’re so afraid she won’t accept you, you’re about to push her away. Why not give her that choice? You will lose her by walking away, anyway. Doesn’t she deserve a chance to decide for herself if she wants to take the risk? Just like the rest of us did?”
Regulus worked his jaw. Dresden had a point. If Regulus and Adelaide’s roles were reversed, wouldn’t he want the truth? Wouldn’t he want a chance to choose acceptance or not? But if he walked away now...yes, he might lose her. But he wouldn’t have to live with the pain of seeing the way she looked at him change. But if she could understand, if she could love him anyway... He longed for her acceptance as much as he longed for freedom.
“Do you even like her, Reg?”
“Excuse me?”
Drez threw his hands in the air. “You’re giving up so easily, she must not be that special.”
Heat flared in his chest. “Of course she’s special!”
“Then tell me why!”
“She’s...” Regulus looked away and took a deep breath as he pictured her smile. The thought of her calmed his jittery nerves. “She’s smart and capable and confident. She’s humorous and kind. She’s honest. And...she sees me. Not a servant’s son, or a mercenary, or a captain. Not someone she owes anything to. More than a walking testament to my father’s infidelity. Not an imposter or just a title. Not a slave. I haven’t met someone who sees me apart from all of that since we were children. And it took you months to see me as your friend.”
As he spoke, he understood. He might never find someone like Adelaide again. And if she could see him now, maybe she could see him in spite of his link to the sorcerer. Drez was right. He wasn’t protecting her. He was hiding.
“If you mean all that, how can you walk away?”
“Fine.” Regulus nodded. “I’ll consider telling her.”
“And you’ll go to the dance?” Dresden crossed his arms, his gaze sharp, the hard slant of his mouth allowing no argument. “You owe me after that ordering stunt.”
Regulus winced. An opportunity to hold Adelaide in my arms? He sighed, losing the battle with both himself and Drez. “Yes.”
