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Regulus paced, his sword swaying and chainmail rustling with his swift stride. Caleb had been gone too long. He scowled at the sun half-hidden behind the trees lining the horizon. Much too long. If Caleb had been captured, the blame fell squarely on Regulus’ shoulders. And if Caleb had been captured, that meant they had even less of a chance of success than he had feared. It would mean he had done the exact thing he had sworn to never knowingly do. He had led his men on a suicide mission. And he had left Adelaide to fend for herself to do it.
Thoughts of the last time he had led his men into a trap flashed in his mind. Images of friends’ lifeless bodies, of ten graves. He shoved the memory aside. That wouldn’t happen this time. He wouldn’t let it. And the sorcerer wasn’t here.
As he paced, his long shadow moved over the rest of his men. They sat on stumps or on the ground in front of their tiny make-shift camp of three low tents, their horses staked nearby. Estevan and Perceval played with dice while Dresden watched. Jerrick knelt with his eyes closed, his lips moving silently. Praying to Hallilek. He had a faith Regulus envied. Harold remained at Arrano—Regulus refused to put the youth in Carrick’s path.
“He’s fine, Captain. Cal’s always fine, just tardy. Stop your pacing.” Perceval threw down his dice and wrinkled his nose. Regulus did not stop pacing.
Estevan whooped. “Ha! That’s two homemade mince pies for me!”
“You really shouldn’t gamble your wife’s cooking,” Dresden said, his chin cupped in his hand. “Basically gambling away her labor. That’s just wrong.”
Perceval scowled. “You cheated, Wolgemuth.”
“How?” Estevan rattled the dice in his hand.
“Check the dice,” Jerrick said without opening his eyes. “His weighted one has a tiny nick on the corner.”
Amid sounds of scuffling and grunting as Perceval tried to wrest the dice from Estevan, someone crested a nearby hill, his outline black against the setting sun. Regulus tensed and gripped the hilt of his sword. Behind him, his knights stood and watched the figure approach. The man waved, and fading sunlight highlighted his shaggy blond hair. Regulus dropped his hand from his sword. Caleb walked at a languid stroll, which did nothing for Regulus’ mounting impatience.
“Well?” Regulus asked as soon as Caleb reached hearing distance. He tapped his foot, arms crossed. “What’s the report?”
“Got some good news, some bad news, and some news I’m going to count as great but may be up for interpretation.”
Regulus grunted, but Caleb just lowered onto a nearby moss-covered log. Dresden stood next to Regulus, and the rest of the men returned to their seats, the game of dice forgotten.
“Good news is, based on what the servants around the castle are saying, all the Belangers are alive.” Caleb crossed his ankles and leaned back, propping his elbows on a protruding broken branch. “Bad news, the castle’s well-garrisoned. I spotted ten men on the walls. Looked like more inside. But the stars have aligned, my friend.”
Regulus cocked an eyebrow and waited for Caleb to continue. He should have sent someone less prone to dramatics, but Caleb had a way of making people comfortable and their tongues loose. Made him an excellent scout.
Caleb grinned. “Sir Immortal Brute has just left the castle all alone in a spectacular hurry, with no explanation other than he would be back in a day or two and instructions to keep the prisoners in good health.”
“Carrick is gone?” Caleb nodded. “For at least a day?” Another nod. Regulus smiled and returned to pacing. This would make things easier. Maybe not easy, but easier. He stopped midstride. “He gave no indication of where he was going in such a hurry? Or why?”
“If he did, it wasn’t in public. Hence the up for interpretation.” A dreamy expression spread over Caleb’s face. “I was chatting with a lovely milkmaid in the courtyard. A braid the color of honey, round, rosy cheeks, green eyes that positively demand a song—”
“Focus, Cal.” Regulus rubbed his temple.
Caleb rolled his eyes. “Carrick jogged right past me on his way to get his horse. He was shouting about finding things just as he left them when he returns and threatening dismemberment if any harm came to the prisoners.”
Perceval snorted. “It’s a miracle you even heard that! Why the captain trusts you to stay on task, I’m sure I don’t know, you philandering—”
“Oh, philandering, did you pick that up at university?” Caleb sat forward and pointed at Perceval. “I’ll have you know I was on task. That milkmaid can get us into the castle.” He gave an over-dramatic look of hurt. “To think I’ve called such an uncivilized oaf my friend.”
“Not now, you two,” Jerrick said.
Regulus gave Jerrick a grateful nod. “How can this milkmaid of yours get us in?”
“She’s not my milkmaid.” Caleb’s eyes danced. “At least, not yet. But she’s not happy with the current situation at the castle, and when Carrick left, was easily convinced to let us in. Two hours from now, just after dark, at eight and a half bells.”
“Well done, Caleb.” Regulus turned to Dresden and motioned with his head.
They walked a short distance away, followed by the sound of Perceval and Caleb’s routine bickering and Estevan goading them both on.
“This could be good, but I don’t like it,” Regulus admitted. “Something strange is going on.”
“Agreed.” Dresden looked toward Belanger castle, its turrets just visible over the tops of the trees. “I can think of no good reason for Carrick to have left so abruptly.”
“The sorcerer could have called him away.” He chewed on his lower lip. “I don’t like not knowing what they’re up to.”
Dresden rubbed his beard. “Or he could somehow know we’re here. It could be a trap. Caleb’s milkmaid could even be in on it.”
“That occurred to me, too.” Regulus rubbed the back of his neck. “But, even as blinded as he can be when it comes to women, Caleb would have noted if her behavior was suspicious.” His chest tightened. “There is another possibility, though.” His throat dried out.
“Carrick might have learned something about Adelaide’s whereabouts.”
“She wouldn’t leave her parents behind. Splitting up seemed the best way to keep her away from Carrick.” Regulus sighed. “But now I don’t know where she is or if she’s okay. I think I made a mistake. I should have dragged her to the palace if that’s what it took.”
Dresden gazed out at the sunset. Loud laughter rose from the camp behind them, the men unaware of the turmoil and fear in Regulus’ heart. Drez turned to Regulus.
“There’s no point in agonizing over what’s done. We focus on the mission at hand. With Carrick gone and a way in, we can take back Belanger castle, not just get the Belangers out. So, let’s plan.”
Like it or not, Drez was right. He didn’t have the luxury of spending energy and time worrying about Adelaide. She would have to take care of herself. He just prayed he had been right in believing she could.
––––––––
DARKNESS FELL AND THEY crept toward the side door of the castle. The same one he and Adelaide had escaped through just a few days prior. Based on the fresh wood, the same one that Carrick had broken down. The mercenaries wore dark cloaks over their armor and moved with speed and stealth across the hill leading up to the castle walls. A dim crescent moon made it easier to blend into the night.
Regulus pressed against the wall next to the door. The fresh wood was reinforced with iron that gleamed dully in the faint moonlight. Dresden moved behind him, and the knights lined up against the wall. A gentle bell somewhere in the castle pealed once, signaled half-past eight. Regulus took a deep breath and knocked. Three rapid taps. Pause. Two slow taps. Pause. Three rapid taps.
A key scraped in the lock. Regulus drew his sword, nerves taut and every muscle coursing with energy. The door opened without a sound—a blessing of new hinges. Regulus raised his sword. A small, pale hand held aloft a lantern. The flickering yellow light illuminated the wide-eyed face of a young woman with a gray shawl pulled over her head and shoulders. She stepped back and Regulus lowered his sword, scanning the darkness behind her. She beckoned them inside, and they followed.
Two guards sat slumped against either side of the door, sleeping. One snored and shifted position as they entered. Regulus grabbed the girl’s shoulder and leaned in close to her ear. “Did you drug them?”
She shook her head, fear etched on her face. “The cook did.”
“Carrick’s men or Lord Belanger’s?”
“Carrick’s.”
Regulus glanced down at the men. Still slumbering. But for how long? And they had aligned with Carrick. They chose violence the moment they entered this castle. He nodded at Estevan, then pointed to the men. Carrick had declared war by taking Belanger castle. He and his would reap what they sowed.
Silent as a shadow, Estevan slit both men’s throats. The milkmaid pressed a hand to her mouth and the lantern shook in her outstretched hand. Regulus took it, extinguished the flame, and set it down.
“Can you lead us to the dungeon?” Regulus murmured. She nodded, still staring at the corpses. Regulus turned her away with a flicker of shame. Adelaide deserved better than a killer. But taking a castle with only six men required the ruthless mercenary. The girl stood immobile in shock. “We need to move quickly...” He looked to Caleb questioningly.
“Susan,” Caleb whispered.
“The dungeons, Susan.”
Susan nodded again and drew a deep breath. She clutched her shawl against her chest and led them in the shadows along the base of the wall. Something moved ahead of them, and Regulus grabbed her arm to stop her. A guard carrying a torch approached. A soft whoosh passed Regulus’ head and moonlight glinted on the edge of a blade before Estevan’s throwing knife buried into the guard’s throat. Regulus sprinted forward, caught the body before the sound of its fall could draw any attention, and lowered it to the ground.
Susan stifled a gasp. Her knuckles whitened as she gripped her shawl tighter. “I knew him.”
“He’s not locked up; he’s a traitor,” Perceval muttered. “Good riddance.”
“It’s Lord Belanger’s choice what happens to the traitors,” Regulus hissed. He looked at Estevan. “Let’s try not to kill any of them again.” Estevan and the others murmured disgruntled agreement.
They continued, moving from shadow to shadow across the courtyard. At a corner, Susan held up her hand for them to stop. She peeked around.
“One of Carrick’s is guarding the door,” she whispered.
Regulus moved her back and glanced around the corner. A large man leaned on the side of his shoulder against a door some twenty paces away. Regulus waved Caleb forward.
Caleb pulled his bow off his shoulder and nocked an arrow as he knelt at the corner. A soft thwang of the bowstring, and a short grunt followed by a muffled thud. Caleb stood and gave a quick nod. Regulus scanned the surrounding area before they ran to the building. Jerrick found the dead guard’s keys and opened the door. Susan led them down a hall, then pointed to a descending spiral stone staircase.
“The dungeon is down there. From what I’ve heard, Carrick is only letting his own men be on guard in the dungeon.” She glanced around, her wide eyes searching the shadows. “But Lady Belanger and Lady Julia are locked in their rooms.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get them next.” Regulus smiled, trying to reassure her. “You’ve been very helpful and very brave. We can take it from here.”
“Good luck.” Susan fled.
“Permission to kill anyone not in a cell, Captain?” Perceval asked dryly.
Regulus adjusted his grip on his sword. “Granted.”
They rolled their steps as they stole down the stone stairs. Quiet, indiscernible voices echoed up the stairwell. The stairs emptied into a guardroom. A few torches in iron ring sconces lit the room in orange light. Three men wearing chainmail and armed with swords sat playing a game with bone dice at a wooden table.
The guards jumped to their feet, but not fast enough. Estevan threw, and his knife buried into the throat of the guard on the right. His eyes widened and he fell backward. Caleb shot an arrow straight through the neck of the middle guard. The man fell onto the table. Jerrick ran forward, hefting his two-sided battle-axe. The last guard fumbled with his sword, his eyes darting to his deceased cohorts. Jerrick swung. The last guard’s head rolled across the dusty stone floor.
Dresden was already crossing the room, double scimitars drawn, his gaze sweeping the hallway beyond the guard room. Perceval followed, broadsword in hand. Regulus stepped over the headless corpse and snatched the keyring off the hook on the far wall with a loud jangle. The sound of footsteps bounced off the stone walls as someone ran toward them down the hallway.
“Hey, what’s—” The newcomer’s sentence was cut short as Dresden sliced both scimitars in an X across the guard’s neck. The body crumpled to the ground.
Regulus had grown accustomed to facing battle alone. But as his men worked seamlessly together, their movements coordinated, each one knowing the others had their back, he remembered why he loved leading them. A wolf is strongest with its pack. What a fool he had been to forget that. Facing enemies with his men—his brothers—was the only place he had ever felt comfortable. Until Adelaide. Etiros, wherever she is, protect her.
Regulus grabbed one of the torches from the wall and they continued, alert for more guards, but none appeared. They passed several empty cells before the dungeon opened further, spreading to the right and left. Someone moved in the cell to their left. A shorter man stood and walked to the door of the cells. The man leaned against the bars, taking in their appearance with confusion on his weathered face.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
“Lord Hargreaves.” Regulus stepped closer. “Here to help Lord Belanger take back his castle.”
“Lady Adelaide’s Lord Hargreaves?”
“Yes.” Regulus ignored Dresden’s snicker and the laugh Jerrick hid behind a cough. A couple more men hidden in the shadows at the back of the cell came forward.
“Excellent. I’m Sir Ruddard. Lord Belanger’s men are in the next few cells.” Ruddard cocked his head to his right. “Lord Belanger and Sir Belanger are at the other end of the dungeons.” He inclined his head in the opposite direction.
“Thank you. I’ll be right back.”
Dresden accompanied him down the hall while the others remained behind. No more guards met them. They found Alfred and his son sleeping in two cells at the end of the hallway. Regulus tried various keys in the cell door while Dresden held the torch.
“What do you want?” Alfred’s hard voice echoed against the stone.
Regulus looked up and smiled. “To rescue you like I promised your daughter I would.”
The color drained from Alfred’s face as he scrambled to his feet. “Adelaide is here?”
“No.” A key finally fit, and the lock opened with a satisfying click. Regulus swung the door open and Landon awoke in the next cell. “When we heard what happened, I went to Arrano to get my knights, and she headed for the palace to warn the king.”
Alfred sagged against the bars. “Thank Etiros. But Carrick—”
“Left this evening and isn’t expected back for a day or two.” Regulus moved to the younger Belanger’s cell and found the key quicker. Landon gave him an unreadable look as he strode out of the cell.
“My men—” Alfred started.
“We’ll get them next,” Regulus said. “The ones down here, anyway. Some of them—”
“Joined Carrick, I know.” Alfred’s expression darkened. “They will pay for their treachery in blood.”
They freed Belanger’s loyal knights, swelling their number by ten. Ten unarmed men.
Alfred’s soldier instincts must have kicked in, because before Regulus could ask, he said, “The armory is in this building. I’ll lead the way.”
Dresden handed Alfred the torch. Several hallways and two spiral staircases later, Alfred, Landon, and the Belangers’ knights rushed through arming themselves.
“Do you have a plan?” Alfred asked, buckling a sword belt around his waist.
“Depends on if you want any of the traitors alive after tonight.” Regulus caught Estevan’s smirk and the glint in Perceval’s eyes, but ignored them.
Alfred’s upper lip curled back. “If they weren’t in a cell, they aren’t my men.”
“In that case, I’m sending my men in three groups to clear out the guards on the walls. We will head to the residence to find your wife and daughter-in-law. Your men are welcome to join, but my men will not take it well if they interfere in killing the traitors.”
Sir Ruddard stepped closer, his jaw tight. “That won’t be a problem.”
“Good. Caleb, Perceval, take the east side.” The two might bicker like rivals, but they worked together in battle like they shared one mind. “Jerrick, Estevan, west side. Dresden, see to the gates. All of you, take a few of Lord Belanger’s men with you. The rest of you will accompany Lord Belanger and me to rescue the ladies.” He made eye contact with Alfred and inclined his head in deference. “If that sounds good to you.”
Alfred nodded. As they left the armory behind, Alfred murmured, “You have an interesting assortment of knights, Regulus. I dare say only two are Monparthian.”
Regulus glanced sidelong at Alfred. “They were my mercenaries before they were my knights, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
“You trust them?”
Regulus paused, reaching for the handle to leave the tower. “Do you trust me?”
“My trust was a bit broken when you disappeared with my daughter,” Alfred’s voice held an edge that cut right through him. “But I believe I do.”
“Good. Then know you can trust my men. I trust them with my life.” Regulus gripped the door handle and looked pointedly at Alfred. “I would trust them with Adelaide’s life.”
“Good enough for me.”
Regulus opened the door and followed Alfred into the night. They hurried toward the central residential part of the castle, a multilevel building of soaring windows and gothic points. The other groups splintered off. Stealth was no longer required, but Regulus still noted with distaste how much louder Lord Belanger’s men were than his own.
The front doors were locked. Alfred banged the pommel of his sword on the door. When no one answered, he banged again.
Regulus looked around the courtyard, catching sight of a man falling from one of the gate towers. “Is there another way—”
The door opened, revealing a bleary-eyed servant. “Lord Belanger?”
Alfred pushed past. “Where. Is. My. Wife!”
“In your rooms, my lord.”
Regulus followed Alfred across the foyer as two men wearing only loose-fitting trousers ran in from an adjoining hallway, swords drawn. Regulus intercepted them while Alfred continued toward a door in the back corner of the foyer. The men hesitated when they saw Alfred, but Regulus did not. He drove his sword through the first man’s stomach, turned as he withdrew his blade, and sliced across the second man’s torso. Both men fell to the ground. Regulus followed Alfred up the flight of stairs behind the corner door. Landon headed in the opposite direction with a few of the knights. He did have his own wife to rescue, after all.
They ran up the stairs, Alfred taking the steps two at a time and Regulus close on his heels. The light of the torch in Alfred’s hand sputtered, casting eerie shadows from suits of armor as Alfred sprinted down a hall. A man sat in a chair next to a closed door, head resting against the wall. He looked at them, then jumped up.
“You...Carrick said there was no way you could breach the walls!”
Before they reached him, the man unlocked the door and bolted inside. The door slammed in Alfred’s face and the lock clicked. Alfred bellowed and jammed his shoulder against the door. It shook but didn’t budge.
Regulus motioned for him to step aside. Alfred hesitated, but moved over, his face pinched. Regulus lifted his foot to kick at the door just as the door swung inward, and he nearly fell forward through the door. He stepped back in surprise. Lady Belanger stood in the doorway in a midnight-blue nightgown, eyes wild and shoulders heaving.
“Alfred!”
“Tamina,” Alfred gasped out and dropped his sword. She ran into his arms and he lifted her off the ground, kissing her with such passion, Regulus turned away. He peered into the bedroom. The guard’s body lay in a heap on the floor next to the massive four-post bed, just visible in the dim light from a gap in the curtains. The handle of a dagger protruded from his neck.
After a small eternity of tear-filled kisses, Lady Belanger turned toward Regulus. “Hargreaves.” Her dark brown eyes flashed. “Where is Adelaide?”
“Hopefully safely on her way to the palace.” Heat crawled up Regulus’ neck as she stared him down.
“Alone!” She slapped him across the face. His mouth fell open as he touched his stinging cheek. Alfred grabbed Tamina’s shoulders and pulled her back.
“Troll take you, you—”
“Mina!” Alfred held his wife back. “Regulus just saved us and ensured Adelaide didn’t come—”
“I heard Carrick talking to that man,” Tamina pointed in the direction of the body. “He said Kirven had sent word of where he could find Adelaide, and that Regulus might attempt a rescue.” Her tone softened. “He didn’t think you a threat against a garrisoned castle. And while part of me is pleased he was wrong,” her hands formed fists, “Adelaide is out there alone with Carrick after her. His exact words were, ‘I’m going to collect Adelaide.’ Like paid-for goods. Why aren’t you with her!”
Regulus stepped back, shaking his head. “No...she’s on her way to warn the king. Her magic is back. Adelaide is strong and smart. She’s okay. She has to be.”
Tamina pointed at him. “First you run away with her when you were told to stay put. I suppose I should be thankful, because otherwise she would have been here when Carrick attacked. But then you leave her alone?”
“She wouldn’t abandon you,” Regulus said, his voice hoarse. “It seemed like the best way to keep her safe from Carrick.”
“When did you last see her?” Alfred demanded.
“Three days ago? She’s safe,” Regulus said, trying to convince himself more than Adelaide’s parents. He stared down at the blood giving his sword a red sheen. “I...” He swallowed. “I have to find her.” He looked up, determination replacing his fear. “I have to go.” He turned and pushed past the gawking knights blocking the hall.
“Where?” Alfred called. “You have no idea—”
“I’ll head for the palace.” Regulus clutched the grip of his sword until his fingers hurt. “I’ll follow the route Adelaide most likely would have taken. Or I’ll track Carrick. One way or another, I will find her.” He lowered his voice, guilt carving a hole in his chest. “I have to.”
