Page 67 of Prince of Shadow and Ash

Regulus rubbed the mark on his arm, his thumb pressing against the irregular scars. He wanted to believe Dresden. But he was a slave with blood-stained hands. He’d taken lives long before he met the sorcerer, but it wasn’t the same. Guilt weighed on his shoulders while frustration mounted. Anger at what the sorcerer had forced him to become. Anger at the guilt that wouldn’t die. Anger at Dresden for not understanding his despair.

“You can have a normal life,” Drez said. “You can stop hiding in your castle. Stop living behind this wall you’ve put up around yourself and I’ve only seen you lower around her. You don’t have to live the rest of your life shutting people out. Don’t throw that all away.”

“I don’t shut you out,” Regulus said weakly.

“Yes, you do!” Dresden stood and paced away. He turned around and Regulus recoiled from the anger in his friend’s eyes. “We know your secret, but you don’t let us help. You rarely tell us where you go or what you do. You push us all away! And don’t say to protect us. You do it because you’re too proud to admit you’re afraid.” Dresden shook his head. “After two years, I don’t know if I can keep having the same conversations with you, Reg. How can I hold you up when you’re so determined to drown!”

Regulus’ heart twisted as Dresden’s frustration stoked his own anger. He yanked his sleeve down. “If that’s how you feel, why don’t you go? I never asked you to stay!”

“You idiot!” Dresden cursed. “You didn’t have to!”

Regulus turned away. “Just leave.”

“No.” Dresden sat on the ground and folded his arms. “Not until you stop being a fool, believe that you’ll get through this, and agree to dance with Adelaide tonight and joust tomorrow. You didn’t come all the way here—”

“You don’t get it! You don’t understand what it’s like!” Regulus stood and pointed at the tent door, fury and hopelessness burning under his skin. He hadn’t asked for a lecture. “Get out!”

Dresden scowled. “I’m here as your friend. You can’t give me orders.”

“I can and I am. Leave, or I’ll throw you out.” Regulus pointed again, more emphatically, but Dresden didn’t budge. “Now, Jakobs! Go!”

Dresden turned crimson. “I see.” His neck muscles bulged as he swallowed hard and stood. “Anything you want me to do once I leave,Captain? Or is it my lord?” He gave a messy, low, mocking bow, his voice bitter. “Command me, master. I live to serve.”

Blood rushed to Regulus’ face. He dropped his hand to his side. Dresden turned toward the tent entrance.

“Drez, wait—”

“That’s a bit familiar for your servant, isn’t it,master?”

“I didn’t—” But Drez walked out of his tent. “...mean it.” Shame twisted Regulus’ stomach. He groaned and kicked the leg of the cot.

Regulus had never viewed Dresden as inferior, despite their often unequal and complicated relationship. Dresden calling Regulus master had only been to appease Regulus’ strict childhood guardian. One of many things Regulus had done over the years to protect his friend. But nothing could erase that Dresden had been little more than a slave for seven years. Nothing negated that there had been times as a captain when Regulus couldn’t make an exception, not even for his lieutenant. He shouldn’t have snapped. But it was Dresden’s own fault for pushing him. And Dresden shouldn’t have thrown such a low blow in return.

It took Regulus an hour to cool off and swallow his pride enough to leave his tent, but he couldn’t leave things like that. Caleb lounged in front of his own tent, strumming on his lute. Harold and Jerrick were talking while Harold polished a pair of boots. They all went silent and looked up at Regulus.

“He’s in his tent.” Jerrick looked at Regulus through narrowed eyes. “But enter at your own risk.”

Caleb plucked at a string on his lute, pointedly not making eye contact with Regulus. “Haven’t seen him that riled in a while.”

Thankfully, Dresden hadn’t fastened his tent door closed. Regulus ducked inside. Dresden had his double scimitars in both hands, moving through his drills between his cot and a small leather trunk. He spun around just as Regulus entered, and Regulus jumped back. Dresden lowered the blades and bowed his head.

“Yes, my lord?”

“Drez, don’t. I told you never to call me that.” Regulus chewed on his cheek. “I’m sorry, okay?”No, it’s not okay.“I crossed a line. I didn’t mean anything by it. And I’m sorry.”

Dresden’s scimitars twitched, but he raised his head.

“You’re right. I don’t talk to you.” Regulus rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, I’m afraid. Afraid I’ll hurt one of you. Afraid you’d lose all respect for me if you knew the things I’ve done.”

“Reg.” Drez sighed, hurt in his pinched expression. “Don’t you know me better than that? We’re brothers. We need each other. Being a lone wolf doesn’t make you stronger, just lonely and vulnerable. You used to tell the mercenaries wolves were strongest when they worked together. When did you stop believing that?”

When my presence became a threat.Drez didn’t give him time to reply.

“And we’re mercenaries. We’re not squeamish. Besides, it’s not you. It’s not who you are. You’re doing what you have to; it’s not like you enjoy it.”

“But I’m still doing it.” He stared at the trampled grass beneath his boots.

Dresden shuffled his feet. “If it was me...would you leave?”

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