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Sunlight glinted off the neumenet tree’s leaves, casting a rainbow of color into the tendrils of mist drifting over the meadow. In the early morning light, Regulus imagined he could see how thin the veil between their world and the fairy realm was under the tree’s canopy. Even if the ground under magical trees still proved hard and uncomfortable.
He had always hated sleeping on the ground. But with Adelaide pressed against his chest, the ground and his aching muscles didn’t seem so bad. As their eyes met, the enchanting beauty of the meadow and neumenet tree faded away, leaving only her.
The sound of her gentle breathing. The dip in her waist where his arm fit so perfectly. Her gorgeous round face and soft brown skin, her dark brown eyes that held his gaze captive and tangled up his insides. The second the sorcerer was dead, Regulus was going to marry her and make sure he woke up to her every morning.
Adelaide ran her finger along his scar, tickling his skin and sending his mind careening in a dozen directions, several of which were less than innocent. But shame about the scars covering the rest of his body tainted his thoughts.
“What are you thinking about?” she murmured.
His face heated. “Um... How to help you train today.”
Adelaide laughed, her eyes glinting mischievously. “No, you weren’t.”
“No,” he admitted. “I was thinking about doing this.” He leaned over, gripped her waist, and kissed her. “Every day.” He kissed her cheek. “For the rest.” A kiss against her neck that made her sigh. He smiled and moved his lips back to hers. “Of my life.” She met his kiss and clutched the side of his neck. Her stomach rumbled, intruding on the moment and making him laugh against her mouth. “Hungry, piahre?”
“Using so much magic makes me starved.” She gave him a quick peck and slipped out from under him.
He collapsed onto his stomach on the grass that was still warm with her body heat with a groan. A few moments later, Adelaide’s shadow fell over him.
“Are you going to eat, or should I use your back as a table?”
Regulus sat up and rolled his eyes. She sat across from him and handed him some bread and roasted nuts. He raised a brow as she tore into the bread with as much gusto as one of his men after a hard training session. Her gaze moved from his eyes to his lips to his scarred cheek before returning to his eyes.
“I know you said you like my scar, and that I don’t need to hide.” He tossed some nuts in his mouth, trying to appear nonchalant. “But... I heard you gasp when you saw the rest. Are they...” His throat knotted. Repulsive?
Adelaide set her bread down. “They don’t bother me.” She moved toward him. Regulus wasn’t ready for the shock that went through him when she slid her hand under his shirt and pushed it up. “They sadden me.” She ran her left hand over the large scar from the dragon’s tail. “This looks like it should have killed you.”
He had to force his mouth to work, his mind was so consumed with her touch. “It would have, if the sorcerer’s magic didn’t pull me back.”
“What happened?” She met his eyes, her brows knit. “Unless you don’t want to—”
“Dragon.”
“Oh, Etiros.” Her hand left his stomach. “At the Glowers’ party, when I asked you about the Black Knight and the rumors about a dragon... No wonder you were upset. I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “You didn’t know.”
She lowered her gaze, her right hand still holding up his shirt as her fingers trailed over various scars, warming his skin and making his breath hitch. “Are they all from serving him?”
“No. Mainly the worst ones.”
Adelaide let his shirt fall and touched the long scar on his cheek. “And...this one?”
He worked his jaw and swallowed. “Not that one.”
Her fingers slipped off his cheek. She settled back and picked up her bread. She wouldn’t push him for the story, and he appreciated that. But he couldn’t pressure her not to keep secrets and then do the same.
Regulus sighed. “First and most obvious scar, over a momentary, stupid decision. The first mercenary troop Drez and I joined isn’t the one we stayed with. We’d only been with them two weeks when I got in a fight with the lieutenant and a few of his friends. They were drunk and bothering some poor barmaids.”
He looked at the charred remains of the fire, remembering the feel of hands pinning down his arms and knees digging into his torso, the fist yanking on his hair to hold him in place. The agony as the knife traced over his skin.
“Drunk men still understand insults. And are still strong.” He massaged the scar. Thinking about it made it hurt. “I’m just glad the fool with the knife was either sober enough or drunk enough not to cut all the way through. Drez cursed enough to make a sailor blush the entire time he stitched me up.”
Adelaide placed a hand on his arm. “Stopping churls from bothering girls isn’t stupid.” He looked at her. She watched him with a warm smile. “It makes your scar more attractive.”
He laughed through a frown. “I’m both bewildered and pleased I found a woman who finds my scar attractive.”
“Well, you don’t think I’m beautiful in spite of being half-Khastallander...” She trailed off, her smile vanishing as she stuffed the last of her bread in her mouth.
“Who would say something like that?”
She reddened and didn’t look at him as she stood. “I’m ready to train now.”
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THEY SPENT THE DAY training. Regulus challenged Adelaide to see how many things she could do at once, recalling the fairies’ advice. Even when she grew tired, he pushed her. The sorcerer wouldn’t stop when she was tired. And with Regulus’ immortality gone, the best way he could help was by making her ready.
Adelaide dropped her shield and straightened. “I need a break—”
He hurled a large stone at her. She gasped and dove to the ground, but Regulus didn’t pause and ran toward her. He knocked her back down just as she started to rise and grabbed her wrists, pinning her down. She smirked.
“If you want to kiss me, you can—”
“This isn’t a game!” He released her wrists and stood, pacing back and forth. “Without a staff, the sorcerer bested fifteen of the best mercenaries I’ve ever met. According to the fairies, the Staff will make him stronger.”
“You said...I can do anything.”
Regulus stopped. Fear showed in Adelaide’s eyes and a pang of sorrow shot through him. He knew what it felt like to question everything you thought you knew about yourself. He knelt next to her, trying to think of what Dresden would say.
“You are strong, Ad. But what separates a warrior from a champion isn’t strength. It’s perseverance. And it’s training so their skills are the best they can be when they are tested.”
An idea occurred to him. He could make his point and have fun.
“There’s a coastal town in Hedengal where they tell stories of—well, I won’t try to pronounce it, but it translates to ‘the cliff-men.’ Men who were battered like the cliffs by a stormy sea, but like those cliffs, they would not break. They killed the demon sea serpents that had been tormenting the town. They fought without rest from dawn until midnight, when the last serpent fell.”
Adelaide huffed. “Legends make good stories—”
“Hey.” Regulus turned and pulled up his shirt just enough to reveal a small knotted scar on his lower back. “Demon serpent bites burn. They spit saltwater in the wounds they inflict. My men and I fought too hard for you to roll your eyes at us.” He released his shirt.
She stared. “Are you being serious?”
Regulus enjoyed her look of astonishment. “I should mention we also are forbidden from ever entering that town again after Caleb got caught kissing our benefactor’s—the mayor’s—daughter.” He offered her his hand. “The point is, I’m pushing you because you’ll need to be a cliff-woman to win.”
“Okay.” Adelaide took his hand and stood with a sigh. “You’re right.”
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THEY LEFT THE TREE at dawn the next day. As they reentered the forest, Adelaide paused to look back at the neumenet tree. “I can still feel its energy,” she murmured.
Regulus shifted in his saddle. “Should we stay another day?”
She shook her head. “No. It isn’t pulling me anymore. And I want to get back.”
“Okay.” He nudged Sieger forward. “But you should practice everything you can while we ride.”
Sometimes Regulus would point out a branch to throw a magical spear at or ask her to see how long she could keep a shield up. He hoped the practice helped keep her mind off whatever Kirven and Nolan were doing.
The sun sank toward the horizon, turning the sky pink and the clouds burnished orange. A few hours away from Belanger castle, they heard voices ahead. Regulus had decided they should assume the worst and avoid everyone, so they moved into a copse of trees in a nearby field. The men kept talking, but no one came down the road.
“Let’s keep to the field,” he whispered. Adelaide nodded and followed him.
Three men stood next to a small fire on the side of the road. All wore swords and chainmail. Their horses were staked nearby.
“Sure, tell that to his face, coward.” One of the men threw what looked like a bone into the fire, then wiped his mouth. “Yer more than happy to take his gold.”
“His gold won’t help if we’re hanged!” another man said.
Regulus glanced at Adelaide and put a finger to his lips, then gestured to ride further from the small group.
“Then leave.” The third man’s deep voice carried loud and clear over the field.
“Yeah, if I have a death wish. Carrick’s lost his mind.” The second man cursed.
Regulus whipped his head around and locked eyes with Adelaide as her face drained of color. No! He shook his head, but she was already turning Zephyr back toward the road. Mentally cursing, he followed her.
“Carrick’s got a plan,” the first speaker said. His dark hair was pulled back in a short braid. “And he ain’t lyin’ about bein’ immortal.”
“Well, I don’t see how that will save my neck if somebody finds out what he did.” The man ran his hand through knotted blond hair. “His family connections won’t save him or us this time.”
Zephyr snorted, and the three men turned toward them, swords drawn.
“Hey.” The man with the braid pointed. “That’s her, right?”
