| |
Every part of Adelaide felt numb as she dragged her feet back inside the palace. She stood in the middle of the empty, silent great hall as night fell, dark and lifeless as the emptiness that had settled in her chest.
The king had escaped. Kirven had said something was wrong with the Staff of Nightfall. She had stood her ground, and Kirven had run away. These things should have comforted her. They didn’t.
She had failed. Kirven and Nolan had escaped. The bodies of those she had failed to protect littered the floor of the hall. Kirven had taken Regulus, and she didn’t understand why. Her bond would heal a lot if they hurt him, at least. But it wouldn’t spare him from pain—or her from experiencing an echo of whatever pain he felt. It wouldn’t prevent Nolan from cutting Regulus’ head off his shoulders. Her stomach turned and she swayed. Footsteps sounded on the dais and someone entered holding a lit torch. She looked up, her mind blank.
Dresden stood on the dais, staring into the shadows. Blood stained his torn sleeves and covered his shirt and the bandage wrapped around his middle. He pressed his left hand against his side.
“Anyone here?” He held the torch high. “Regulus? Adelaide?”
She couldn’t even find the energy to respond. As he walked further into the hall, the edge of the torchlight reached her.
“Adelaide?” Glass crunched under his boots in the stillness. “Adelaide?” He stopped before her, looking around in confusion. “Where’s Regulus?”
She shook her head. Dresden paled. “D-dead?”
She shook her head again.
“I don’t under... Captured?” She nodded. Dresden stumbled back as if slapped. “No... Reg...” He cursed and kicked at the glass.
“I tried...” Her throat constricted. She stared at the glass glittering in torchlight on the floor between them.
Dresden took several deep breaths. “I’m sorry, Adelaide. I need to tell you something.” His voice was too low, too gentle. Her stomach knotted. “There’s not an easy way to say this. It’s...your father.”
She jerked her head up, her throat closing. The drawn look on Dresden’s face sucked away her breath.
“Adelaide...” Dresden sighed. “He’s—”
“No.” She shook her head. He couldn’t be about to say what she feared. Tears burned in the corners of her eyes. “Where is he?”
Dresden’s expression was pained. “He died a noble—”
“No!” She shoved Dresden’s chest. Died. Died. “No, you’re lying. You’re wrong!” Her shrill voice wavered as her shoulders shook. “He’s not... No.” She pushed him again and felt a twinge of remorse as he groaned and clutched at his bloodied side.
He dropped the torch onto the floor and grabbed her shoulders. “Adelaide—”
“He can’t be dead.” Her head hurt like it had been hammered. She pictured Father’s face, his eyes crinkling as he laughed. A sob shook her entire body. “He’s not dead!”
Not Father, who was always there. Father, who had kissed her head and told her not to be afraid when he told her about the Shadow. Father, who always made her believe that somehow, everything would be all right.
“Adelaide—”
“No, you’re wrong.” She was supposed to save him. To save them all. “Where is he?” She broke free of Dresden’s grip, sobbing as tears made his face difficult to see. “Where’s my father?”
“I’m sorry. Your father is gone.”
She rubbed her eyes and his face came back into focus. In the shadowy light of the torch on the floor, she saw the truth in his eyes. No.
“Take me to him. I—I can—” She gulped back her sobs, trying to talk past the ache in her throat. “I can save him. I can heal him. You have to take me to him!” She’d heal him, and he’d laugh and say she was as stubborn as Mother.
Dresden shook his head. “I’m sorry, Adelaide. It’s not like Regulus. He’s gone. I don’t think even you can resurrect the dead.”
“No, please...” What was left of her heart broke with a pain that was physical. Father’s green eyes filled her mind. The sound of his voice as he teased Mother. The love and protectiveness in his face every time he called her my daughter. She had failed him.
Light flickered in the doorway behind the dais. “Clear,” someone said. “Lay them out on the dais.”
Adelaide stared at the doorway as guards carried bodies into the hall. Her chest constricted. Dresden tried to turn her away. “Adelaide, don’t—”
She released a blast of light against his chest, knocking him to the ground, and ran to the dais, ignoring Dresden’s cry of pain. She recognized the faces of the guards on the ground but didn’t know their names. Another guard carried in a body not wearing a royal guard’s uniform. She froze while the man placed the body on the dais next to the others. She stumbled forward as Dresden came up behind her, holding his torch in one hand and clutching his side with the other.
“Adelaide...”
She stared down at Father’s ashen, lifeless face. His glassy eyes stared at the ceiling. The blood covering his chest glistened in the light of Dresden’s torch.
Adelaide sank to her knees. “Father? I—I’m...here.” She brushed her fingers over his cheek. His skin was too cold. His unseeing eyes didn’t move. Her jaw quivered. “No, you can’t, you have—you have...to stay.”
She moved her trembling hands over his body. Her palms glowed as she searched for a spark of life. Nothing. She could sense the wound that went through his still, unmoving heart. She tried to heal it, to pull his heart back together and force it to beat again. “Tell me it—it’s going to be all right. Pl...please, Father.”
His heart didn’t beat. His lips didn’t move. Adelaide lifted his stiffening torso and cradled him in her lap as she rained tears on his unblinking face.
“I’m sorry, Father. I—I—I... I tried—” A sob swallowed her words. Her soul shattered like the stained glass covering the hall floor. She clenched his shirt and buried her face in his shoulder, choking on the sharp and bitter scent of his blood.
Dresden pulled her to her feet and Father’s body fell back to the floor with a sickening thud. She screamed. Dresden dragged her away. Her legs shook and she collapsed, nearly pulling Dresden down on top of her. Her wails echoed in the vaulted ceiling. She howled her pain into the air until her throat was so raw, she couldn’t make a sound, and then she pounded her fists against the floor.
Bits of broken glass cut her hands and her blood dripped onto the floor, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t feel the pain. There was too much pain in her heart for her body to feel anything. Dresden knelt and pulled her against his chest, preventing her flailing. She wept silently into his shoulder until she fell asleep, too exhausted to keep her eyes open.
––––––––
WHEN ADELAIDE AWOKE, she was lying in the dark on top of the bed in her and Regulus’ little room. Her head throbbed. Everything came back at once. Regulus had been taken. Kirven and Nolan had escaped with the staff. And Father was... Father was...
Dead. The word bounced around inside her skull, making it pound more. She turned onto her side and curled into a ball. Her throat felt like it had been tied in knots and then untangled. She made a sound like an injured dog. Movement somewhere in the room made her freeze.
“Adelaide?” Dresden’s sleepy voice. “Are you awake?”
After a moment, she said “yes,” but no sound came out of her mouth. She cleared her throat. “Yes.” Her voice sounded scratchy and thick.
“Do you need anything?” Dresden murmured. “I have water...”
She licked her dry lips. They tasted of tears. “Water would be good.”
She managed to conjure a small orb of light. The light hurt her eyes and made her headache worse, which seemed impossible. Dresden sat in one of the chairs by the table, squinting. Dark bags circled under his heavy eyelids. He picked a large canteen up off the table and handed it to her. Swallowing was almost painful, but the water soothed the tightness in her throat.
Adelaide stared at the canteen in her hands as the question she both wanted and dreaded to ask burned in her chest. She took another drink. The water helped her headache, if only a little. Blood from her broken nose had dried on her chest and the bodice of her dress. Cuts and scrapes covered her hands, especially the fleshy sides of her palms. Parts of her skirt and sleeves were singed. And none of it mattered.
It took a moment to find her voice. “What happened?” The words came out in a croak. She took another drink and cleared her throat again. “How did my father....” Her eyes filled with tears. “How’d he die?” She finally met Dresden’s eyes. “Were you there?”
Dresden hesitated. “We followed the royals. A guard or two was left every so often to slow down anyone who might try to pursue. We got to a locked brass door. The king unlocked it, and the guard captain and a few other guards accompanied the royals inside. It leads to some underground maze with several exits for the royal family to escape if need be.”
He took a deep breath. “Three guards, your father, and I remained to guard the door. Good thing, too, because Carrick ripped the door off its hinges—after he caught me in the side,” his hand drifted to the new, clean bandage on his left side, “cut off the hand of one of the guards, and severely wounded the other two. Your father stood his ground the longest. He bought the king time to escape.”
She swallowed back a whimper.
He shook his head, admiration sparking in his eyes. “I would never have expected someone of his age to move so fast. He didn’t think. He just fought.” Dresden sighed heavily and his gaze left hers. “But Carrick was too fast and too strong. Alfred didn’t stand a chance. He was stabbed through the heart. He died quickly.”
Against her will, an image of a sword thrusting into Father’s chest filled her mind. She tightened her jaw against traitorous sobs. She pressed her eyes closed as her stomach roiled.
“I was supposed to keep him safe,” she whispered.
“He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself,” Dresden said quietly. “I spent several days with him, and I know how much he loved you.”
His words meant to comfort just made her loss more acute.
“Your father never thought you needed to protect him. He just wanted to protect you. He would gladly have given his life for you, and he would never blame you.”
She trembled as tears dripped off her chin. She wanted to tell Dresden to stop, stop talking, stop trying to make her feel better. Where once had been a father’s love, now was an aching, empty loneliness. She didn’t want him to try to ease her pain. But she couldn’t make herself speak.
“He made his choice to stand his ground and defend the king.” Dresden’s eyes met hers, but instead of pity she didn’t want, she saw unexpected understanding and determination. “He knew the risk. He didn’t have to bring a sword or follow after the king. He didn’t even have to come to the masque.”
“If you think he didn’t have to come,” Adelaide whispered, “you don’t...didn’t know him very well at all.”
“That’s my point.” Dresden leaned forward in the chair. He winced and clutched his side with a sharp intake of breath.
“What am I doing?” She wiped at her eyes and moved over to Dresden. “You’re hurt. And I’m...I’m...” Useless. She held her hand over his side. The cut was long, but didn’t touch any of his vital organs, and whoever had stitched him up had done a good job.
“Adelaide—”
“Almost done.” She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what he had to say. Every word was just another strike, the hit of a hammer against an anvil, forging Father’s death into an inescapable reality.
She finished healing his side. “You’ll have to pull the stitches out.” She headed back toward the bed, but Dresden caught her hand.
“Thank you. But you need to listen. Because if you can’t forgive yourself, you’re going to break. I’ve seen it before.”
She pulled her hand away and sat on the bed.
“Your father knew what he was doing; he was aware of the danger, and he did it anyway because that’s who he was. He was a good man. A brave man. He deserves your pride, not your self-blame.”
“I don’t want to be proud.” She rubbed away a tear with a shaking hand. “I want him back.” I want my Father back. I want him to embrace me and tell me everything is going to be all right. Her teeth chattered as she tried to stop crying.
Dresden didn’t respond, and she was thankful. She didn’t want platitudes or expressions of pity or pointless apologies. If she had resented Nolan before, that rage had frozen over into stone-hard hatred that threatened to drag her down and drown her in the storm-tossed waters of her hopelessness and sorrow. But some part of her whispered it wasn’t really Nolan she hated; it was herself. Maybe Dresden was right. If she couldn’t forgive herself and accept Father’s sacrifice, she was going to crack. She clenched the worn blanket in her fists. Father was dead, and Regulus was gone, and Mother was—Mother.
“How am I supposed to tell my mother...?” Adelaide buried her face in her hands. How could she even cry this much? How could her heart hurt this much and not just kill her?
She didn’t know how long she cried. Ten minutes, twenty, thirty, five. Time had ceased to have meaning. When she stopped, she took several deep breaths. “I think I’m going to go for a walk.”
“Um...” Dresden cleared his throat. “A...Lieutenant Bell? Ball? A lieutenant said you’re to report to him as soon as possible. Technically, he said the minute you wake up. He wanted to wake you, but I wouldn’t let him.”
She should have known. Duty first. “Can...can you come with me?”
“Of course.”
They walked through the dark night to the barracks, an orb floating above them to light the way. She guessed it to be around three in the morning. A guard on duty at the entrance to the courtyard said Beale was in his chamber, but had left orders that if she came, to show her straight in. The guard led them to the end of the first floor of the barracks and knocked on a door. No one stirred inside, so he knocked again, harder and longer. A muffled voice shouted for them to enter. The guard bowed and departed, and Adelaide pushed the door open.
Beale sat on his bed, rubbing his eyes. His uniform coat was on but open over a white undershirt. His boots laid on the floor, but thankfully he was still wearing his trousers.
“Ah, good. Belanger.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I need a report of what happened in the hall after the king left.”
“Where is the king?” Weariness made her voice small.
“Safe. The royal family have been escorted to various places to hide. The king wants you to join him at once. But first I need to know what happened and what we’re looking at going forward.” He glanced toward Dresden. “I got a report from Sir Jakobs about what he knows about the attack. But I was knocked unconscious by Kirven’s initial blast. I’m working blind here.”
She relayed everything that happened. Her fight with Kirven. How Kirven tried to kill Regulus and she passed out, but something had happened to the Staff of Nightfall. How it seemed to not be working properly and be causing Kirven pain. Kirven and Nolan taking Regulus. She hung her head.
“I’m sorry, sir. I failed.”
“You gave the king a chance to escape,” Beale said. “The king is alive because of you. You did your duty. And you tried. And survived, which is more than I can say for...far too many of our men.” He dragged his hand down the side of his face. “Captain Russell accompanied the king. Lieutenant Antar is gravely wounded and may lose his leg, possibly his life. Captain Matthews and Lieutenant Breck are dead. Five guards sustained minor injuries, five are critically wounded, ten are dead, and seven are missing, suspected desertion. Best guess, they panicked when attacked by a sorcerer, ran with the guests, and are too afraid to come back.”
Adelaide nodded. The punishment for abandoning your post was at minimum thirty lashes and two days in the stocks without food or clothes.
“That leaves us with only twenty-five guards.” Beale clasped his hands together. “And the threat is still out there. So I need you to pull yourself together, Belanger. We don’t stand a chance without your help.”
“Where are the wounded?” She sounded more tired than she had hoped. “I can help them.”
Beale perked up at that. “Most are in the infirmary, at the beginning of the hall.” He stood. “Lieutenant Antar is next door.”
He led them into Antar’s room. Antar lay on his bed, his damp hair plastered to his head. He muttered incoherently under his breath. Blood soaked through a thick bandage wrapped around the top of his right leg. Beale moved to unwrap the leg, but Adelaide stopped him.
“I don’t need to see it.”
And truthfully, she didn’t want to. She held her hand over the bandage. Her magic flowed out and into Antar, and she got a sense of his wound. The wide cut went deep, partway through the bone. A sensation she hadn’t encountered before surprised her until she realized what it was. An infection was already spreading through his body.
“I don’t know if I can heal this,” she admitted. “Why didn’t they amputate already?”
“He insisted they wait until morning. I think he was hoping to die first.”
She focused on mending the bone, the torn muscles and severed veins and nerves. Antar stopped muttering and his breathing deepened. The infection was harder—she had never dealt with that before. She tried to kill it, as if burning the infection out. When she had done everything in her power, she turned to Beale.
“He’s technically healed, but I don’t know if he will live. He’s lost a lot of blood.”
“I understand. Thank you for trying.” Beale led the way to the infirmary, and she spent the next hour healing the guards. By the end, she felt more like a ghost than a person.
“I need to sleep,” she mumbled. “I have to...to...have to regill. Refain.” She shook her head. “Regain my energy. Wait for my magic to rurn...return.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” Beale looked like he thought she might topple over at any moment. “We need you at your best, Belanger. Get some sleep.”
She fell asleep within moments of collapsing on the bed. She only barely registered that Dresden had followed her and settled back into a chair. Somehow, his presence made the ache in her soul a little more bearable. But Regulus’ absence next to her felt like a hole in her heart as she slipped into a deep sleep.
––––––––
LIGHT WAS STEALING into the room in the cracks around the door when Adelaide bolted awake with a scream trapped in her lungs. She arched her back and flailed her arms and legs but couldn’t break free of the bone-crushing pain pummeling her body. She rolled off the bed and hit the ground hard. Dresden jumped off the chair and grabbed her shoulders as she pulled in a wheezing, strangled breath.
“Breathe!” He dodged her wildly swinging hands. “What’s wrong?”
She found her voice, and a single word leapt from her throat in a shriek. “Regulus!”
