Page 64 of Prince of Shadow and Ash

He couldn’t tell her the truth.

“Regulus!” Dresden grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to stop.

He had fallen for a daydream. Tried to live in one of the happily-ever-after romance ballads Caleb sang. But his life wasn’t a romance.

“Reg?”

The truth crushed him, like his heart was being squeezed. His lungs compressed. His life wasn’t a romance. It was a tragedy. Even if she accepted him, he might hurt her.Not if you obey,a selfish voice whispered.“Such an obedient pet,”the sorcerer’s voice taunted.“Next time, you won’t get to choose.”He pushed Dresden aside.

“Regulus!”

Until he had paid his debt, he had no business loving Adelaide Belanger. Or anyone.

Because he wasn’t his own man.

And slaves don’t get the girl.

Chapter 25

AFTER REMOVING HISarmor, Regulus double-checked each knot holding the tent flap closed. Dresden sat lounging on a stool in front of the entrance as an extra precaution. Caleb had pulled out his lute and was playing it as loudly as possible. All the surrounding tents were his knights’, but Regulus couldn’t chance a passerby hearing anything suspicious.

He pulled a chain out from under his armor and over his head. The key hanging on the chain glinted in the lamplight. His hand hovered in front of the lock as he crouched in front of the chest. The mark burned hotter, the pain sharpening as he hesitated. A reminder the sorcerer would not be denied or ignored. He unlocked the chest and pulled out the mirror, then hooked it on a nail he had hammered into the tent post next to his cot for this exact eventuality.

With a deep breath he focused on keeping the anger and bitterness out of his face and voice. He wouldn’t risk incurring the sorcerer’s wrath in the middle of the tournament campground. “I’m here, my lord.”

The mirror shimmered, and the sorcerer appeared. His hood was thrown back, revealing graying brown hair pulled away from his face. Regulus stifled a gasp. He had never seen the sorcerer’s eyes before. The whites were bloodshot around coal-black irises rimmed with a thin line of green.

“Good! I—” The sorcerer squinted. “What are you doing? Where are you? This isn’t familiar.” He moved closer to the mirror, craning his head as if to look around Regulus’ tent. “Where are you?”

What good would lying do him? “I’m competing in a tournament.”

“A tournament? Interesting. Winning, I’d imagine.”

“Yes, my lord,” he kept his voice level, “but on my own strength.”I don’t owe you anything.

“Hmph. Ungrateful idiot. But that’s not relevant right now.” The sorcerer tugged on his beard, his movements frantic. “I’ve hit a wall. It’s infuriating. You get so close to everything you’ve planned, you think you’ve thought of everything, that vengeance is finally assured, and just like that...a wall. A wall of my own creating! Isn’t that darkly poetic.” He glowered at Regulus, as if whatever wall he was talking about was Regulus’ fault.

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