Page 36 of Staff of Nightfall

Adelaide set her bread down. “They don’t bother me.” She moved toward him. Regulus wasn’t ready for the shock that went through him when she slid her hand under his shirt and pushed it up. “They sadden me.” She ran her left hand over the large scar from the dragon’s tail. “This looks like it should have killed you.”

He had to force his mouth to work, his mind was so consumed with her touch. “It would have, if the sorcerer’s magic didn’t pull me back.”

“What happened?” She met his eyes, her brows knit. “Unless you don’t want to—”

“Dragon.”

“Oh, Etiros.” Her hand left his stomach. “At the Glowers’ party, when I asked you about the Black Knight and the rumors about a dragon... No wonder you were upset. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “You didn’t know.”

She lowered her gaze, her right hand still holding up his shirt as her fingers trailed over various scars, warming his skin and making his breath hitch. “Are they all from serving him?”

“No. Mainly the worst ones.”

Adelaide let his shirt fall and touched the long scar on his cheek. “And...this one?”

He worked his jaw and swallowed. “Not that one.”

Her fingers slipped off his cheek. She settled back and picked up her bread. She wouldn’t push him for the story, and he appreciated that. But he couldn’t pressure her not to keep secrets and then do the same.

Regulus sighed. “First and most obvious scar, over a momentary, stupid decision. The first mercenary troop Drez and I joined isn’t the one we stayed with. We’d only been with them two weeks when I got in a fight with the lieutenant and a few of his friends. They were drunk and bothering some poor barmaids.”

He looked at the charred remains of the fire, remembering the feel of hands pinning down his arms and knees digging into his torso, the fist yanking on his hair to hold him in place. The agony as the knife traced over his skin.

“Drunk men still understand insults. And are still strong.” He massaged the scar. Thinking about it made it hurt. “I’m just glad the fool with the knife was either sober enough or drunk enough not to cut all the way through. Drez cursed enough to make a sailor blush the entire time he stitched me up.”

Adelaide placed a hand on his arm. “Stopping churls from bothering girls isn’t stupid.” He looked at her. She watched him with a warm smile. “It makes your scar more attractive.”

He laughed through a frown. “I’m both bewildered and pleased I found a woman who finds my scar attractive.”

“Well, you don’t think I’m beautiful in spite of being half-Khastallander...” She trailed off, her smile vanishing as she stuffed the last of her bread in her mouth.

“Who would say something like that?”

She reddened and didn’t look at him as she stood. “I’m ready to train now.”

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THEY SPENT THE DAYtraining. Regulus challenged Adelaide to see how many things she could do at once, recalling the fairies’ advice. Even when she grew tired, he pushed her. The sorcerer wouldn’t stop when she was tired. And with Regulus’ immortality gone, the best way he could help was by making her ready.

Adelaide dropped her shield and straightened. “I need a break—”

He hurled a large stone at her. She gasped and dove to the ground, but Regulus didn’t pause and ran toward her. He knocked her back down just as she started to rise and grabbed her wrists, pinning her down. She smirked.

“If you want to kiss me, you can—”

“This isn’t a game!” He released her wrists and stood, pacing back and forth. “Without a staff, the sorcerer bested fifteen of the best mercenaries I’ve ever met. According to the fairies, the Staff will make him stronger.”

“You said...I can do anything.”

Regulus stopped. Fear showed in Adelaide’s eyes and a pang of sorrow shot through him. He knew what it felt like to question everything you thought you knew about yourself. He knelt next to her, trying to think of what Dresden would say.

“Youarestrong, Ad. But what separates a warrior from a champion isn’t strength. It’s perseverance. And it’s training so their skills are the best they can be when they are tested.”

An idea occurred to him. He could make his point and have fun.

“There’s a coastal town in Hedengal where they tell stories of—well, I won’t try to pronounce it, but it translates to ‘the cliff-men.’ Men who were battered like the cliffs by a stormy sea, but like those cliffs, they would not break. They killed the demon sea serpents that had been tormenting the town. They fought without rest from dawn until midnight, when the last serpent fell.”

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