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Adelaide wrapped her arms around her legs, glancing back and forth between Dresden and Regulus. She didn’t like the accusation in Dresden’s tone. Regulus’ eyes widened, then his features hardened.
“We talked about this, Drez.”
“You say it’s not sorcery, I want to hear from her how she did it and what she did.” Dresden didn’t take his searching gaze off her for a moment.
The cooking rabbits sizzled, filling the air with savory aroma and making her stomach tighten. She was too tired and too hungry to argue.
“She saved you, and I’m grateful,” Dresden said. “But how? She was captured by the sorcerer, who could be controlling her—”
“She doesn’t have the mark, Drez!” Regulus sounded on edge.
“We don’t know how easy it is for a mage to become a sorcerer,” Dresden countered, challenge in his tone. “I won’t watch you be a slave all over again! I want proof—”
“I’m not a sorcerer.” Adelaide rested her forehead on her knees. “If I were, I wouldn’t have...” The memory of Kirven’s torture returned, and phantom pain slid over her body.
“Wouldn’t have what?” Dresden asked.
“Enough.” Father used his commanding officer voice, and Dresden’s mouth slammed shut. Father was no poet, but he had his own way with words. “She saved Regulus’ life. Why isn’t that enough for you?”
“Because the sorcerer saved his life a lot, too.” The agitation left Dresden’s voice, replaced by resignation. “For two years he tried to earn his freedom or break free in another way. Do you have any idea what it’s like for your friend to—” He shot a glance at Regulus. “The point is, I don’t want to see him suffer again.”
“I would never hurt Regulus.” She met Dresden’s eyes, hoping he would see the truth in hers. “Surely you know that.”
After a moment, Dresden relaxed. “I know you love him. But what if you don’t even know what you did? Will you remove it if it harms him? Can you remove it?”
“I told you, it’s different, Drez.” Regulus sighed. “Less one-sided. More like we’re both connected to each other. And there’s another difference.” He held up his hand, showing his palm for some reason. “I cut this hand on a fish scale a little bit ago. It healed almost instantly—and there wasn’t a chance of it being fatal. And the healing process didn’t hurt.”
“Hm.” Dresden waved a hand. “But that’s tiny. Maybe that’s why it didn’t hurt.”
Regulus picked up the knife he’d used to clean the fish and wiped it off on his pant leg, then stuck it in the fire to finish cleaning it. “Fine. Let’s check.”
“Regulus!” Adelaide gasped and stood. “Don’t you dare!”
“It’s a protection enchantment, right?” He looked at her, completely calm.
She did not feel calm. “I mean...yes, but I don’t know how...or what...”
“Well, if it doesn’t work, you can always heal me anyway.” Regulus grinned. “Besides, it can be payback for misguided training at the neumenet tree.” With that, he plunged the knife into his upper arm.
“Regulus, this is—” At the exact moment the knife cut into Regulus’ arm, just as he winced, Adelaide grabbed her own upper arm and winced. It wasn’t like when he had stabbed her at the neumenet tree. More like an echo or memory of that pain. Still sharp, but not as painful as the real thing. He pulled the knife back out. As his arm healed, the pain in her own arm subsided and a tiny amount of her power left her.
Regulus looked down at his arm and wiped away the bit of blood smeared over his skin and the edges of the hole in his sleeve. “Good as new.”
“I...felt that,” she whispered.
All three men looked at her.
“What do you mean, you felt it?” Father’s brow furrowed.
“Not like actually being stabbed, but a softened version. An echo of the pain.”
Regulus looked horrified. “Are you sure?”
Adelaide hesitated. Maybe she was just remembering the pain of being stabbed in nearly the same place. She needed to know. “I’m going to turn around, and then you do it again, somewhere else. I don’t want to ask you to hurt yourself again, but—”
“Okay,” Regulus said, his expression grim.
She turned around. A moment later, something slashed across the back of her right calf. Deep, too, but more of a quick stinging sensation than an actual cut. She grimaced and grabbed at her calf, but it was unharmed. The pain subsided, and she turned back around. Regulus had turned white as the clouds drifting above them. Dresden’s mouth hung open. Father’s expression was stoic and unreadable.
Regulus looked at her, the blood on the back of his right calf, then back. “That’s...no.” He shook his head. “No.” He stood and charged past Dresden toward her, rolling up his sleeve. “Take it off.”
“What?” She drew back. “No!”
“I’m not letting what hurts me hurt you, too.” He shoved his arm toward her. “You have to remove it.”
“But...” She stared at the mark on his arm, her mind racing. “It’s a small amount of pain. And I don’t bleed. It’s all right—”
“No, it’s not!”
“I agree with Regulus,” Father said. She shot him a hurt look.
“You said this thing is more two-sided,” Dresden said. “So what happens if she gets hurt?” She hadn’t thought of that.
Regulus turned toward Dresden. “I don’t really care—”
Adelaide snatched the knife out of Regulus’ hand and jabbed it into her thigh before Regulus could stop her. She sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. Compared to the pain Kirven had put her through, this was minor. She pulled the knife back out. The wound continued to bleed down her thigh, showing no signs of healing. She tossed the knife toward the fire and held her glowing palm over the throbbing cut until it closed.
“I...didn’t feel anything.” Regulus sounded ashamed.
“So not completely two-sided then,” Dresden said. “But it seems like the benefit is all yours right now, Reg. Which I’ll admit doesn’t seem like sorcery’s methods.”
Adelaide glared over Regulus’ shoulder. “I told you. I’m not a sorceress.”
“So you can’t hurt him, or force him to do something—”
“No!” She crossed her arms. “At least...I don’t think so.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Regulus said. “I want it off.”
“And I don’t want you to die!” Tears pricked her eyes. Why couldn’t she just be angry without feeling like she was going to cry? She was too tired for this. “Nolan can’t die. It’s only fair you have the same advantage.”
Dresden stood and walked over next to them. “What if you tell him to do something? If he disobeyed the sorcerer, that mark caused him pain.”
“I know that,” Adelaide snapped. Still, Dresden’s worrying was getting to her. “Regulus, Dresden is annoying me. Punch him in the face.”
Regulus blinked. “What?”
“Punch him!” She didn’t want Regulus and Dresden to fight. She hated it. But she needed to prove to herself Dresden’s concerns were unfounded.
“Adelaide...” Regulus rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve never laid a hand on Dresden.” He winced. “Not by choice, anyway.”
Her gut twisted as she remembered that Kirven had made him attack Dresden twice. “Does the mark hurt?”
“What—oh. You were testing...” Regulus half chuckled as relief eased his expression. “No pain. Nothing.”
Dresden pursed his lips. “Good. But I still don’t like that it works similarly.”
“Sorcery is corrupted magic,” Father said. “That’s hardly surprising.” He still sat next to the fire. “But I don’t like that you’re feeling his pain, either, Adelaide.”
“See?” Regulus held his arm up. “Please.”
“If it didn’t hurt me, would you still want it off?”
Regulus shifted and averted his eyes.
“I thought you agreed it wasn’t sorcery?” Her self-assurance faded.
“No! It’s not that.” Regulus sighed. “No, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t care either way, if it stayed or not, so long as I have you. But it does hurt you, so I want you to remove it.”
“I thought I lost you.” Adelaide released a shaky breath, trying to stay in control of her emotions. “I can’t—I won’t go through that again.” She pushed his arm away, his concern hitting her mind as she touched him. “Please.”
Regulus looked down at her hands on his arm, then back at her eyes. “Okay.” He pulled the sleeve back down.
“And you,” she pointed a finger at Dresden. It shook, undermining her anger. “Don’t you ever accuse me of sorcery again.”
Dresden glanced away, but otherwise looked unapologetic. “Only if you don’t do anything sorcerous.”
“If I wanted to be a sorcerer, I already would be!” She bit her tongue. She didn’t want to talk about this. Not in front of Father. Not to Dresden. She turned toward the fire and sat down. “The fish are burning.”
Regulus sat next to her. Dresden and Father turned their attention to the fish while Adelaide stared at the flames. Her own screams echoed in her memory. Stop thinking about it, stop. But she imagined Kirven’s mocking black eyes in the ash. A weight pressed against her back. Adelaide leapt aside with a short, strangled scream. Everyone froze.
Regulus stared, his mouth hanging open, his hand still suspended midair where he had tried to rest it on her back. To comfort her.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. “You startled me.”
They ate in silence, but she didn’t miss Father’s poorly disguised concerned glances or the questioning, pitying looks Dresden sent her way. Regulus sat close, a deep line between his eyebrows. She didn’t need their pity. It just made her feel weak all over again.
Full for the first time in what seemed an eternity, Adelaide laid back in the grass and suppressed a yawn. “We need a plan. To stop Kirven.”
“You need to rest,” Father said. “We can worry about that later.”
“We have to warn the king. Kirven mentioned the masque, but the sooner the king is warned, the better.” She sat up, even as her mind begged for sleep. “We should leave immediately.”
Regulus and Father looked at each other.
“I’m fine.” She swallowed a yawn.
“We can leave tomorrow morning,” Father said. “That still gives us enough time.”
“But—”
“Please, Adelaide,” Father pleaded. “Rest. For me.”
“So what if I’m a little tired? If it was one of you, you wouldn’t wait.”
“You’re exhausted.” Father pointed to himself and Regulus. “And we are, too. We’ve hardly slept. We could all use the rest.” He gave her another look of deep concern. She got the feeling that, somehow, he knew she’d been hurt far worse than a bruised cheek.
“All right.” With a huff, she laid back down. It didn’t take long for the warm sunlight to lull her to sleep.
––––––––
WHEN ADELAIDE OPENED her eyes, dark pressed around her. Kirven stood over her, his face illuminated by a sickly green glow from the opal in the Staff of Nightfall. She screamed and went to blast him back, but her hands were bound behind her back. No. No, no...
She stood and ran, but every leaden step only covered a few inches. Something pulled against her neck and she fell backward. The collar. Oh, Etiros, he put the collar back on. Panic pressed against her lungs. She looked around, frantic, as Kirven moved closer, holding the rope tied to the collar in one hand and the Staff of Nightfall in the other.
“Where’s Regulus and my father?” Her voice sounded raspy and weak.
Kirven shook his head. “You cause so much trouble, you and your mercenary. You couldn’t just go with Carrick, could you? Couldn’t be a good little girl.” He pointed the staff to her right. Father was tied to a tree, his mouth gagged and his head hanging forward like he was unconscious.
“Father!” He didn’t move. No... She tried to stand, but Kirven pushed her down with the end of the staff.
“I promised I would torture your family if you didn’t join me.” Kirven knelt before her.
Nolan stood behind him, leaning on the pommel of a sword and watching impassively. Blood ran down the blade, soaking into the ground. Some instinct told her it was Regulus’ blood. Her heart seemed to stop beating. Kirven squinted, then looked over his shoulder, following her line of sight.
“Oh. He’s just waiting his turn.” He placed the end of the staff on her chest. Ice spread from the edge of the staff, freezing and burning all at once. She screamed.
“Adelaide!” Kirven shouted. “Adelaide!”
Something gripped her shoulders and shook her. She continued to scream, writhing on the ground.
“Adelaide!” Kirven’s voice morphed into Regulus’. “Adelaide, wake up. WAKE UP!”
Adelaide bolted upright and fought free of the hands holding her shoulders and her hand. “Let go!” Her chest heaved as she gasped for air and struggled to bring the faces hovering over her into focus. “Don’t hurt me!”
Regulus released her shoulders and sat back on his heels, his expression terrified and pained. Kneeling on her other side, Father released her hand. He looked like he had aged ten years, his face was so drawn. Dresden stopped mid-pace behind Regulus. Faint sunlight still lit the pale blue sky, and the few clouds had an orange tint. No sign of Kirven or Nolan.
“You’re safe.” Regulus’ neck corded. “Just a dream. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you.”
“Reg?” Her voice broke on a sob.
“Ad.” Regulus pulled her into an embrace.
Adelaide wrapped her arms around him and cried. It didn’t matter it was embarrassing. The tears had decided to fall and would not be stemmed. She sobbed into Regulus’ chest for several minutes, and her stomach and chest ached when her tears were finally spent.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured as she pulled away.
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Regulus said.
“For you,” Dresden said. Adelaide looked up in confusion. Dresden sighed. “There’s nothing you need to apologize for. But...I do.” He crossed and uncrossed his arms. “I...shouldn’t have doubted you. You’ve clearly been through a lot. I’m sorry.”
She nodded, unable to say anything. Dresden strode away. She pressed a hand to her pounding skull.
“I wouldn’t agree to bear the mark again.” Waking up screaming like a child felt foolish. Even though she didn’t want them to know, she owed them the truth. “Kirven—”
A violent shudder made it difficult to speak as she recalled the pain he had inflicted on her. That he had threatened to inflict on her family. She curled in on herself. Words failed her. How could she tell Father the truth? That she hadn’t known a person could experience that much pain and live?
“You don’t have to explain.” Father knelt beside her and stroked her head. “They’ll fade.” His voice was barely a whisper. “The memories. The dreams. And the pain. They won’t last forever.”
He already knew. A sob tightened her throat as she met Father’s gaze. “When?” She focused on the love in his eyes and let his calm wash over her.
Father shook his head, still stroking her hair. “I don’t know. But they will. I’ve...been where you are. This feeling of—being broken. It’s a lie. You will heal.” He kissed the top of her head. “You’re so, so strong, my dear. Don’t doubt that, all right?”
Adelaide nodded, even though she didn’t feel strong. She felt worthless; useless and used. Broken seemed right. It’s a lie. But right now, she didn’t know how to heal. How to wait for the memories and the dreams and the pain to fade.
“I think I’ll sleep easier when he’s dead. When they both are.”
Father’s lips drew into a hard line. “You don’t have to be the one to face them—”
“Yes, I do.” She looked down, fiddling with the edge of her tunic. “You don’t know what he can do. It’s going to take more than some knights to stop him.”
Father obviously wanted to argue, but there was nothing he could say. He stood with a sigh. “Your mother will blame me for your insistence on being the hero, but that stubbornness is all her.” He patted her head, then walked away.
Regulus rubbed her back. “I wish I could blot out what Kirven did to you,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I...” His strong arms wrapped around her. Protecting her. Shielding her.
Adelaide leaned against him. “I’m all right.”
By the way Regulus tightened his grip on her, like he could hold her tightly enough to press all her broken pieces back together, she knew he didn’t believe her.
