Page 6 of Prince of Shadow and Ash
Magnus trotted back into Regulus’ room, wagging his fluffy light brown tail, and jumped on the bed. His fur—of which he had a copious amount—was black on his face, chest, and haunches, and the rest was brown, getting lighter to the pale fur on the underside of his tail.
The curtains on the wall-length window were open, and dim moonlight illuminated the room. A large four-poster bed, currently occupied by Magnus, took up most of the room. Next to the bed, a nightstand just big enough for a food tray stood empty. A massive fireplace filled most of the wall opposite his bed, with a small armchair and footstool placed in front of it. Other than his large oak dresser, and a small desk and chair, the only other furnishing was a couple of large trunks, one padlocked shut, and a large rug. Harold set the lamp on the nightstand and headed for the fireplace.
“Armor first, Harold,” Regulus said, unwilling to stay in the heavy, stinking armor any longer.
“Of course, my lord.”
Regulus stared out the window at the stars while Harold removed his armor piece by piece, tutting at the muck covering it. “Did you go for a swim in a giant mud puddle?”
Regulus chuckled half-heartedly. “More or less.”
“I think you’ll be needing a bath, my lord.”
No argument there.“Tomorrow, Harold.” Regulus peeled off his blood-encrusted tunic. “For now, I need sleep. No, leave that,” he added as Harold moved to collect the armor for cleaning. “Go back to bed.”
Harold nodded. “Thank you, my lord.”
The young man slipped out and Regulus went to his bed. Magnus shifted over just enough to allow Regulus to crawl under the covers, then burrowed against his side.
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THE SUN HAD PASSEDits zenith when Regulus awoke to Harold hauling his armor out of the room. Magnus placed his head on Regulus’ chest, panting happily. Harold offered to draw a bath and bring food, which Regulus gratefully accepted.
As he waited, Regulus rubbed his thumb over the mark on the underside of his right forearm. Although the mark itself was smooth, the skin around and under it was rough from repeated scarring. The product of too many failed attempts to remove it. The black mark looked like two hollow diamonds connected to a V, with the open side toward his wrist. Despite the scarring, the mark remained, clear as when it first appeared. He stood and walked to the window.
Best not to dwell on what you can’t change. His father’s cousin had said that when Regulus went to live with him at six.“Make the most of your lot in life,”Lord Kimberly would say, usually after punishing Regulus for some minor infraction.“It could be worse.”
Except nothing could be worse than this.
No, he chided himself. Dresden’s voice replaced Kimberly’s in his mind.“You’re my brother.”He could be alone.Allhis friends could be dead. Or they could have abandoned him any time in the two years he had borne the sorcerer’s mark. They probably should have. Things could be worse. But that knowledge did nothing for his aching soul.
After food and a bath, Regulus strapped on his sword and headed out to the courtyard. Not the oversized black sword. He hated it, and the armor. Both given to him by the sorcerer. No, this was one of his own standard steel broadswords. He didn’t need it within his own castle, but after years as a mercenary, he felt exposed without it. Magnus loped beside him. Even down on all fours, the dog’s head came up nearly to his waist.
A couple servants nodded at him deferentially as he walked to the stables. Something after two years, he was still getting used to. He only had eight servants running the entire castle, plus a handful of guards. The gardens were overgrown and the extra rooms dusty and generally everything was shabby, but he couldn’t risk more watching eyes. He found Sieger groomed and chomping on hay in the stable. The stallion nickered at Regulus.
“Good boy, Sieger.” He scratched Sieger’s neck.
“Glad to see you’re up, Reg,” a voice said from behind him.
Regulus smiled and turned around. “Hey, Drez.”
A little shorter than Regulus and a year younger, Dresden Jakobs was muscular with a constant low-level energy. Thick black brows shadowed his dark eyes, and he kept his thick black hair and beard short and well-groomed. He had a long, angular nose and a dark olive complexion, like most Carasians. Twin scimitars crisscrossed his back as usual.
Dresden was silent for a moment as his piercing gaze bored into Regulus. “Maybe you wouldn’t come back so tired if you let me help.”
“No. If one of you died, what would be the point?” Regulus stroked Sieger’s neck. “I’m not discussing it again.” By the hurt look Dresden gave him, Regulus must have slipped into his captain voice again. “We agreed,” he added quietly.
Agreed I need your support here more than out there.
“I know.” Dresden’s brow furrowed as he scratched behind Magnus’ ears. “What was it this time?”
“Roots of some glowing plant in the Forbidden Marsh guarded by hobgoblins and centaurs.”
“Ihatehobgoblins.” Dresden spat.
“I’m aware, old friend.” He didn’t bother to hide his amusement.
“Nasty, troublesome creatures.”
