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“HOW DO I LOOK?” REGULUS ran his fingers through his hair.
Dresden rolled his eyes. “Like you always do.”
“This is a bad idea.” Regulus paced back and forth in the foyer, the clack of his boots echoing in the vaulted ceiling. Magnus padded along after him, tongue hanging out of his mouth and tail wagging. Two curving staircases rose on either side of the room, meeting at the top and leading into the great hall. The only decorations were a couple suits of armor on either side of the door centered between the two staircases that led to the wine cellar. He had never cared for ostentation, so when he moved in, he had cleared away the oversized vases and faded blue carpets that reminded him too much of his father’s wife. Besides, he had never had guests before.
“What if I can’t get her alone to explain? What if she doesn’t understand?”
Dresden leaned against one of the stone bannisters. “Relax.”
“What if supper is awkward?” Regulus stopped short and Magnus pushed his head under his hand. He scratched behind the big dog’s floppy ears. “I think Sir Gaius has mixed opinions of me. What if I do something he dislikes? Or worse, I do something that offends Lady Minerva?”
“You’re offending me with your incessant worrying.”
The doors to the foyer swung inward and Regulus turned. Magnus stepped in front of him with a low growl. Steward Preston led Adelaide, Gaius, and Minerva into the castle. His anxiety melted away as she smiled. “They’re friends, Magnus.”
Magnus looked back at him, his tongue hanging out of what looked like a grin.
Adelaide knelt in front of Magnus. “Hello, Magnus.” He panted as she scratched beneath his chin. “Aren’t you a handsome big boy. Regulus told me all about you.” Magnus licked her bare forearm—she wore a sleeveless dress today. She laughed.
“First your horse, now your dog,” Dresden said. “Maybe she wants to steal your animals, not your heart.”
Adelaide stood and crossed her arms, but he caught the slight blush in her cheeks. She cocked an eyebrow. “Really, Dresden,” her tone was teasing. “If you put as much effort into your manners as you did into maintaining your beard, you’d have a wife by now.”
“All right, all right.” Dresden laughed. “The lady knows how to spar. I humbly fold.”
Regulus held out his arm. “Shall we head in?”
Adelaide took his arm and they entered the hall. Magnus pushed between them, rubbing against their legs. He looked from one to the other, whimpering for attention. They moved to their seats as the rest of his knights arrived to join them for supper. Perceval’s wife Sarah and Jerrick’s wife Leonora joined as well. Adelaide sat in the chair to the right of the head of the table, Gaius in the chair to the left. Regulus pushed in her seat and sat down. Magnus laid between his and Adelaide’s feet.
Contrary to his fears, supper progressed wonderfully. Gaius seemed relaxed and Minerva was as sassy as she was sweet. Adelaide’s laugh made his heart soar. The warm chatter that echoed down the long table filled his soul. This was all he ever wanted. To be surrounded by people he cared about and who cared for him in return. To see the joy on their faces.
Halfway through supper, Estevan regaled them with a story about the time Perceval stepped in a hunter’s snare and refused help for an entire hour while he kept trying to cut himself down, all while hanging upside down. Regulus reached for his goblet, watching Adelaide’s eyes sparkle with mirth. Searing pain sliced up his arm. His hand jerked, and he knocked over his goblet with a clatter. Wine spilled over the table. He clenched his teeth against the stabbing, burning sensation covering his right forearm. The mark had never hurt like this when the sorcerer summoned him before.
Estevan stopped mid-sentence. All eyes turned toward him.
“Regulus? What’s wrong?” Alarm rang in Adelaide’s tone.
“Nothing.” Another stab of pain. He gripped the edge of the table. “An old injury acting up. Excuse me for a moment.” He left the table, their stares clinging to him.
Magnus followed, but he shook his head. “You stay here, boy.” Magnus cocked his head, and Regulus pointed back toward the table. The dog padded back and laid down at Adelaide’s feet. It pleased him Magnus liked her, but the searing pain commanded his attention.
Dresden cleared his throat. “You haven’t gotten to the best part yet, man! Keep going.”
Good old Drez.
The pain kept increasing, spreading from his arm to his shoulder to his chest. Regulus raced up the stairs, stumbling as his ribs ached. He threw open his door and slammed it behind him. He fumbled with the key, his hand shaking from the pain that wasn’t abating despite his obedience. It seemed to take forever to lock the door. I’m coming! He cursed.
He struggled again with the lock on the chest. What in creation was the sorcerer’s problem? He yanked out the mirror and the pain eased. “I’m here.” He hung the mirror on the wall and stepped back.
The mirror shimmered and the sorcerer appeared, an ecstatic grin on his face. The pain vanished.
“Yes, my lord?” Regulus said, not hiding the irritation in his voice. “What’s with the...urgency? What if I had been out?”
“I knew you weren’t,” he said, as if this were obvious. “I’ve found what I’m looking for.”
Regulus sighed. “Which is?”
“You see,” the sorcerer bobbed up and down, as if rocking back and forth onto his toes, “some twenty or so years ago, I lose count, I tracked down and killed—or rather, had killed, mostly—every mage in Monparth. Every sniveling idiot with pure magic in their veins.”
“You...” Regulus’ jaw dropped. Of course. Idiot. Of course the self-proclaimed Prince of Shadow and Ash was The Shadow that had caused the extinction of mages in Monparth. His thoughts turned to Adelaide downstairs. Almost extinction. Panic surged, but he snapped his jaw closed.
“Yes, that was me. Who else could have that much power?” The sorcerer paused, but Regulus didn’t know how to respond, so the sorcerer continued. “The trouble is, the final relic I need is hidden behind an enchanted wall. It’s like a gigantic lock. And only a mage,” he snarled, “can open it. It repels sorcery.”
“So you used those ingredients to find mages again,” Regulus guessed, his spirit sinking.
“What do you know. You’re not a complete idiot.”
Regulus tried to keep his voice from shaking. To look indifferent and uninterested. “Did you find any, my lord?”
“Oh, yes.” A sickening grin spread over the sorcerer’s face. “Would you believe a mage is downstairs, in your home, this very moment?”
No. No, no, no. “Downstairs?” The word came out choked. Etiros, please, no!
“Yes, pretty young woman.” The mirror turned watery and shifted to an image of Adelaide in Arrano’s hall. She rested her chin on her palm, her elbow propped on the table as she spoke. The image shifted back to the sorcerer.
Regulus swallowed back the bile rising in his throat. “You...you’re certain?”
The sorcerer’s smile turned into a frown. “I don’t make mistakes! She’s a mage as certainly as I’m a sorcerer. Hopefully she has the power to do what I need. What’s her name, anyway?”
Regulus grit his teeth. His hands balled into fists.
“I asked you a question, boy.”
Pain burned his arm, and he grunted.
“Her name?”
He stared at the ground, clutching his forearm. “Adelaide Belanger.” The pain subsided.
“You told the truth. Very good. At least bringing her to me should be easy. You know right where to find her.”
Regulus hung his head. “Please. Don’t kill her.”
“I won’t kill her, weren’t you listening? I just need her magic.”
And after you’ve used her magic? He swallowed hard. “Surely there is someone else—”
Agony exploded up his arm. He clutched his chest and doubled over as the pain spread from his sternum. A moan stuck in his throat.
“I. Want. Her. As soon as possible.”
Shouts sounded from the hallway. Cries of “Lord Hargreaves!” echoed up the stairs.
Confused and gasping for breath, Regulus looked toward the door. He panted out, “My lord, I should go check—” before he fell to his knees as the pain redoubled, spreading over his entire body.
“You will bring her to me.”
Regulus’ eyes watered as his breathing grew more labored. The shouts continued, muffled and unintelligible.
“I...can’t...” He swallowed back a scream as it felt like fire filled his veins. His vision blacked out, and he curled into a ball on the floor.
“You’re my slave. You do what I tell you.”
His heart felt like it would burst. Dying. He was dying. Etiros...save me.
“Do this, and your debt will be paid.”
The pain ceased. Regulus took several deep breaths to steady himself. The darkness shrouding his vision receded. He stood, his knees shaking.
“I expect to see you tomorrow with Belanger. I don’t want to harm her. But you must bring her.” The sorcerer’s voice became dark and menacing. “If I have to force you, every pain I have inflicted on you will seem as nothing compared to the pain you will inflict on everyone you care about, including the girl. And then you will die in more pain than you can imagine.”
Regulus looked up. The mirror was blank—just a bronze mirror. He stuffed it in the trunk as someone pounded on his door. The muffled shouting from downstairs continued.
“My lord!” Harold sounded panicked. “I am sorry, but you must come downstairs.”
Regulus opened the door. “What is it? What’s going on?”
“We couldn’t stop them,” Harold panted. “The sheriff has a warrant—”
“Sheriff?” Regulus cursed. They had been spotted in Holgren. Someone must have recognized him or his description. Regulus grabbed his sheathed sword from next to his door and pushed past Harold, fastening the belt around his hips as he hurried down the stairs. If he was going to be accused of hunting in the royal forest—a theft against the crown—he needed to look like a lord.
Because a lord might get away with a heavy fine. But a commoner could be hanged. If they tried to hang him, he would live. He would be exposed for the monster he was.
