Regulus didn’t respond. The sorcerer would get to the point eventually.
“Fix one problem, create another. Just have to do it all over again!” The sorcerer shook his head. “If those thrice-cursed mages weren’t already long dead, I’d kill them. Such a hassle. Should have seen it coming, though.”
Regulus tried to look uninterested and keep his confusion hidden.What mages? Should have seenwhatcoming?
“No matter. Always work-arounds. See you, for example.” The sorcerer chuckled to himself. “Just time-consuming. And requiresprecision. And it’s exhausting.”
Regulus clenched his jaw.Don’t ask. Obey. Pay your debt.If he earned his release, he could court Adelaide. The thought made him much more willing to play the obedient servant.
“I need several very specific things from you,” the sorcerer continued. “So pay attention. One thing out of place, and this won’t work. And if this doesn’t work, I swear by every dark curse I know I will kill you and everyone you care about. Understand?”
Regulus swallowed and nodded. “Yes, my lord.” He was grateful the sorcerer didn’t know about Adelaide.Just follow his instructions, and no one will be hurt.
“Good.” The sorcerer crossed his arms. “First, I need a circlet of silver. It must be pure silver, no other metals. Second, I need a bushel of white flowers. Doesn’t matter what kind, but they must be white. Third, I need clamshells. Eight large shells should do it. Fourth, and this is where things get difficult, I need the blood of an innocent person. Doesn’t have to be a lot, just a few drops. And finally, I need a foot-long piece of a root of a neumenet tree.”
“What?” Regulus gaped. “Blood?”
“Of an innocent person, that’s important.” The sorcerer waved his hand. “Yours won’t do.”
Regulus winced, guilt pricking his conscience, but moved on to another problem. “What’s a neumenet tree?”
The sorcerer groaned. “Don’t you know anything?”
Regulus stayed silent.
“Useless. Neumenet trees were considered sacred for thousands of years. They’re very rare, and strong vessels of magic energy. People used to try to conceive their children in their shade, hoping to have a baby born with magic abilities. Sometimes worked, too. They have bark like obsidian and leaves that look like shards of glass but feel like feathers.”
“And where do I find one?”
“There’s one in Holgren Forest.”
“But that’s a royal forest!”
The sorcerer thrashed his teeth. “And I’m the Prince of Shadow and Ash! That forest belongs to me!”
Regulus recoiled. He had claimed that title the first time Regulus met him. Had bound him to tell any who asked the Black Knight who he was that he served the Prince of Shadow and Ash. Regulus had assumed the sorcerer was being grandiose. But now he realized—the sorcerer seemed to think himselfactuallyroyal.
“With all due respect, my lord,” Regulus said, trying to sound as humble as possible, “I don’t think any sheriffs or forest rangers will care.”
“Well,” the sorcerer grinned coldly, “then kill them. Better yet, don’t get caught.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Now, tell me what you’re bringing me.”
Regulus sighed. “A circlet of pure silver. A bushel of white flowers. Eight clamshells. The...” he swallowed, his mouth dry, “the blood of an innocent person. The root of a neumenet tree.” Whatever such specific and odd ingredients were for, he suspected he would regret being a part of it. As if the sorcerer interrupting a wonderful moment wasn’t bad enough, that made his mood worse.
“Good. Make your plans. Imusthave everythingbeforethe next full moon, do you understand?”
Regulus shook his head, trying not to let his irritation with the sorcerer’s tone show on his face. “When is the next full moon?”
“You are such an idiot.” The sorcerer rolled his eyes. “A useful idiot, luckily for you.”
Regulus clenched his teeth.
“Eleven days. You have eleven days. That should be enough time to gather everything. If I don’t have all the ingredients on the eleventh day, or if you bring me the wrong ingredients—I will consider your debt unfulfilled. And I will collect in full.”
He bit his tongue to stop his panicked protests as a shudder raced down his spine. “And...if I succeed, my lord?”