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Regulus didn’t let himself sleep until Adelaide was sound asleep in his arms, which took a while. He didn’t care to know the specifics of her nightmare. That she had mumbled for him and her father and then screamed like she was being burned alive was more than enough for his aching heart and guilty conscience.
When she asked him not to leave her side, he swore he wouldn’t. He didn’t care that Dresden looked amused when he curved his body against Adelaide’s back. Or that Alfred tightened his mouth so much his lips turned white when he wrapped his arms around her, and she curled her hands around his forearm. He only cared that Adelaide felt safe, that she slept comfortably, even when his own arms fell asleep.
He was thankful to be the first person awake in the early dawn. During the night, they had shifted. Regulus was on his back, and Adelaide lay on her stomach across his chest, her head resting on his shoulder and her left leg hooked around his left leg. The fingers of her left hand had intertwined with his right. Her heart beat a gentle rhythm against his ribs. A hot stone seemed to burn in his stomach and his skin tingled. He hardly dared to breathe, afraid he’d disturb her slumber.
Birds sang nearby, their chirps competing with the gentle flow of the stream. The air was crisp and cold, more like the beginning of harvest than the end of summer. He stroked Adelaide’s unraveling braid, undoing the strands as the sky turned from a dusty pink to a washed-out blue. Green leaves swayed in a breeze that didn’t reach the ground, revealing the occasional tinge of yellow and orange.
He smiled, relishing this moment of peace. Adelaide’s warmth, the gentle beauty of a new day. This was what he wanted, every day for the rest of his life. Well, maybe inside, on a bed with pillows. A pinch had developed in his neck.
Drez tossed onto his side on the other side of the ash-filled fire pit. More important than Regulus’ discomfort, it seemed wise to get up before Alfred. He eased his hand out of Adelaide’s, but she stirred as he tried to move out from under her.
“Five more minutes,” she mumbled as she wrapped her hands behind his neck.
Regulus chuckled. “You make a compelling argument,” he whispered in her ear, “but—”
“Too cold.” She turned her head, hiding her face in his shoulder, and mumbled something he couldn’t make out.
“Okay, but only to protect you from the cold.”
“Good,” she said, her voice still heavy with sleep.
A sparrow flitted through the air above him, catching insects. No part of him wanted to get up. He wanted to stay like that forever. Sorcerers and immortal creeps be damned. He put his hands on her waist, thinking he would just pick her up and move her over. Instead his hands developed a mind of their own and moved over her waist, tracing up her back and tangling in her hair. She filled his mind, all other thoughts sinking into blurry shadows.
Adelaide shifted, and he sensed her sleepiness fall away. Her love and desire shot through him, mixing with and heightening his own. Regulus closed his eyes and breathed in, trying to calm his racing heartbeat. She turned her head and her breath slid over his neck. His right hand wandered up and over the back of her neck, her skin warm and soft under his fingertips as he brushed his fingers through her hair. He gripped her waist with his other hand. A flare of anxiety and fear edged into his mind as she tensed. Guilt and sorrow squeezed at his chest and he released her waist and opened his eyes.
A dark shape hovered above him as something hard dug into his side opposite Adelaide. He grunted and Adelaide gasped. Regulus squinted against the light as Alfred bent down and pulled his arms off her back. His face burned like he’d been sitting inches from a roaring fire. Alfred’s eyes flashed, his face and neck flushed. Adelaide scrambled off Regulus, her cheeks darkening. Alfred drew his arm back, his hand curled into a white-knuckled fist. But instead of punching him, Alfred reached down, gripped the front of Regulus’ shirt, and pulled him up so his mouth was next to Regulus’ ear.
“You go too far,” Alfred whispered, voice tense. “I won’t have you taking advantage of her weakened state. Even without what she’s been through, show some restraint.” He pulled back so they were eye-to-eye. Regulus’ tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, his fists pressed into the dirt. It took all his courage not to bow his head in submission at the withering look Alfred gave him.
“I’d give you a proper beating instead of just a boot to your side,” Alfred said, “but I can’t hurt you without hurting her.” He shoved hard against Regulus’ sternum, pushing him backward.
Adelaide stood with her arms wrapped over her stomach. “Father—”
“No.” Alfred pointed at Adelaide. He opened his mouth, shut it again, then dropped his hand. “You’re not married to him yet,” he said as he strode past.
Regulus rubbed his sternum, wondering if Adelaide had felt that, too. She met his eyes apologetically but didn’t look like she felt the throb in his own chest. The dull ache dissipated quickly, however. Points to Adelaide’s magic for ensuring he didn’t have a bruised side or sternum.
Alfred glared every time their paths crossed while they ate some apples and fish for breakfast and prepared to leave. Dresden had awoken just as Alfred landed a swift kick in Regulus’ side, and every time their eyes met, he looked on the brink of laughter.
The sun had breached the horizon when they were ready to depart, their scarce supplies packed up and the horses saddled and bridled. With Zephyr gone, Adelaide headed toward Sieger with Regulus close behind. As she reached for the saddle, Alfred cleared his throat.
“No.” Alfred’s tone left no room for argument, but that didn’t stop Adelaide.
“No, what?”
“You can ride with me, or Regulus can ride with Dresden.”
Dresden wrinkled his nose and lifted an eyebrow.
“Fath—”
“Or someone can remain behind.” Alfred’s glare made Regulus’ blood run cold. Adelaide looked to Regulus.
Regulus glowered. “Respectfully—”
“Respect?” He recoiled at the intensity of Alfred’s voice. “Respectfully, Lord Hargreaves, you push the limits of propriety with my daughter, and I’ve had quite enough.” Alfred held out his hand. “Ad, let’s go.”
After a tense moment, Adelaide spun around and mounted Sieger. “Regulus?”
“Uh...” He looked from her to Alfred’s red face.
Alfred stalked over and snatched Sieger’s reins. “We’re not leaving. Not until I am certain you’re away from his wandering hands.”
Adelaide fidgeted. “Father.”
“I apologize for any impropriety,” Regulus said, “but I promise—”
“Promises are easily broken when opportunity abounds.” Alfred narrowed his eyes. “Your choices are to ride separately, or Regulus can have his hands tied behind his back.”
“Father!”
“Final.” Father and daughter stared at each other for several moments. Regulus was torn between saying he could ride with Dresden and agreeing to have his hands bound when Adelaide lowered her head, her shoulders slumping.
“Yes, Father.” She looked miserable as she went to dismount.
“Wait.” Regulus put his hand on her knee, then drew it back as the corner of Alfred’s mouth turned down in displeasure. He took a step away from Sieger’s side, his face burning. “Sieger is the biggest horse we have. You two can ride him, my lord.” He hadn’t meant to sound so disappointed, but truthfully, he was.
Alfred nodded, and Regulus mounted Alfred’s gray stallion, ignoring the disbelieving judgement in Dresden’s eyes. They had enough concerns without making his betrothed’s father hate him. As much as he resented Alfred’s harsh turn, he understood. Alfred had barely forgiven him for sneaking Adelaide out of Belanger castle. Not to mention that Alfred had to wonder, if Regulus was willing to get that...comfortable with Adelaide with her father a few feet away, how comfortable might they have gotten when they were alone?
It didn’t matter the answer was they had been focused on things like not dying or getting kidnapped by fairies and when Adelaide practiced magic she slept like a hibernating bear. Alfred was her father, and if years of managing mercenaries had taught him anything, it was that fathers tended to be fiercely, even irrationally, protective of their daughters. Assurances of self-control and respect rarely soothed an outraged father.
They rode in silence. The tension was palpable, making the morning stretch on. Guilt weighed on Regulus’ shoulders. He had embarrassed Adelaide and seriously offended her father. Far worse, he had scared her. The sensation of her anxiety had lasted only a moment, but it was enough to sink claws into his heart.
They stopped to eat around noon. Adelaide tied Sieger near a half-dried up brook while Alfred approached him, his face stern.
“Can I trust you for two minutes?”
Regulus ground his teeth. “Yes, my lord.”
Alfred wandered off to relieve himself, and Regulus approached Adelaide, although he resisted the urge to touch her.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“Don’t be.” Her smile both lifted the weight on his shoulders and made the pang in his heart worse. She placed one hand on his chest and touched the ends of his hair with the other.
“I got carried away. And...” He hung his head. “I scared you. I felt it.”
Her hand pulled back from his hair, her smile fading. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“Hey, you don’t have anything to be sorry about. And don’t step on my apology.” He forced a smile. “I don’t ever want to scare you.”
Adelaide shook her head. “No, it’s not... I’m not afraid of you, Reg. I’m not sure I ever could be. Not after everything.” She leaned her cheek on the top of his shoulder while her hand drifted to the side of his neck. “I didn’t mean to react like that. It’s not your fault.”
As her skin touched his, her conflicting emotions skidded over his consciousness. Sorrow. Doubt. Nervousness. Anger. Guilt. Fear. But not of him. His hand fisted at his side. Of Carrick. Regulus closed his eyes and attempted to steady his nerves. Instead, his mind jolted. Shadowy, disjointed glimpses of scenes through Adelaide’s eyes flickered behind his closed eyelids.
Carrick leering as he pulled Adelaide toward him out of the stream. Carrick holding her immobile against his chest as he forced a long, rough kiss on her. Adelaide pushing him away, her magic bright against the darkness of the memory. Carrick grabbing Adelaide’s waist and thigh and pulling her to him. Regulus experienced her fear, her panic, her hopelessness as Carrick held a dagger to her throat, then changed his mind. Carrick leaned over her, his eyes lustful and expression gloating. Adelaide’s remembered terror seeped into Regulus. Carrick’s words slipped into his mind, muffled and distorted. “When Hargreaves is dead... Come crawling... Wish you had given in sooner.”
Regulus stumbled backward, his eyes flying open. His pulse throbbed in his head. The ground tilted. He was aware of Adelaide shouting his name and Dresden running over as he teetered and fell onto all fours, shaking. He pressed his eyes closed against the double image of grass floating in his vision.
“What the hell did you do?” Dresden shouted. “Tell me what you did!”
“I—I didn’t! I don’t understand—”
“What is going on?” Alfred demanded.
“She did something to him!”
“No, I—”
Regulus held up a trembling hand, silencing them as he took several deep breaths. When he finally opened his eyes, the world stayed level. He rocked back onto his heels and wiped his hand across his forehead. He opened his mouth, to tell Adelaide he was okay, to tell Alfred everything was fine, to tell Dresden not to yell at his betrothed. But all that came out was a broken, “Adelaide.”
“Regulus?” She wrung her hands.
“I saw,” he said hoarsely. “I saw what Carrick did.”
Adelaide paled and took a step back. Her jaw quivered as she shook her head. “No...that’s not... Oh, Etiros. No.”
“I’m so, so sorry, Adelaide. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Stop—stop saying that.” Her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“I...” Regulus slammed his fist into the ground. “I don’t know what to do! I don’t know what else to say!” He punched the ground again and released a deep-throated scream. “I should never have left you. I failed you, and I’m sorry.” A tear raced down the side of his nose while he stared at the grass stuck to his knuckles.
What would she want? For him to listen? To hold her? To leave her alone? He couldn’t forget what he saw, what he felt of her emotions. He wanted to help, and he didn’t know how.
“Tell me how to make it right.” His voice cracked. “Tell me what to do!”
Adelaide knelt in front of him. Her fingers lifted his chin. He wasn’t prepared to feel her emotions, but they hit him anyway. Humiliation she had no reason to bear. Grief that struck at his heart like a hammer. Rage that had turned ice cold. And love he didn’t deserve.
“Nolan Carrick owes me an apology.” The strength in her voice belied the tremor of her lips. “You’re not the guilty party.”
She placed her hands on his shoulders, then moved them up to the back of his neck, her thumbs rubbing back and forth behind his ears. “You really...” Her lips parted. “You don’t think I’m weak. You don’t blame me for being afraid.”
Regulus pushed her hair out of her face. “I would never. And you’re so much stronger than you realize. So much stronger than I am.” I don’t know how you’re holding together.
Adelaide laughed through her tears. “Please. Where do you think I’m getting my strength?” She embraced him, her body pressing against his. As he hugged her back and tucked his face into her shoulder, he promised himself that so far as was in his power, he would never leave her alone again.
After a while, she pulled away. “I need to, um...you know. I’ll be right back.” His hand slipped down her arm as she stood and walked away.
Alfred watched her go, his expression pained. “Did Carrick...” Alfred’s neck bulged as he swallowed.
“He kissed her and put his hands on her.” Regulus stood, feeling weary, ill, and murderous. “He threatened her. And he...got too close. But no.”
“I suppose I should be thankful for that,” Alfred said, his voice hollow. “But I’m too angry and heartbroken to care. He violated her mind, if not her body.” He met Regulus’ eyes. “Carrick has to die.”
