Page 49 of Staff of Nightfall

“What is that? What are you doing?” Adelaide tried to squirm away, but he closed the cold metal around her neck.

“You’ll use your magic to serve me, or you won’t use it at all.”

She pulled against the collar. Kirven held it firmly as he slipped a small padlock into the holes where the two halves met. The lock clicked shut. He released the collar, and it settled against her skin.

Exhaustion overcame her panic as all her energy, magical or otherwise, drained away. Not like when Kirven had stolen her magic, but more like how she felt after using a lot of magic when training or fighting.

“What is this?”

“Magic suppressor.” Kirven sat back and rubbed his head. “Tricky spell. Saps a person’s energy. Takes a lot of power to create, which I’m not pleased about. But don’t worry, I’ll be at full strength to commit regicide. Fratricide, I suppose. You’ll find using magic while wearing that exceedingly difficult. You could, but not for long, and you’d likely pass out from the effort.” He sneered. “If you’d joined me, you would have learned how to do this yourself, instead of suffering the effects. But you’re too hung up on ideas of being noble. A true match for the mercenary.”

She wiggled her hands, contorting her wrists to grab the collar. She managed to lift it off her skin, but it didn’t help the drained feeling. Resigned, she let it fall.

Kirven stood. “I’ve contacted Carrick. Someone should collect you before you starve.” He paused at the door. “We’ll see each other again. In the meantime, give some thought to who I should torture first—your father or your mother?” He shut the door behind him.

Adelaide laid back down. The collar weighed against the side of her neck. A single tear fell from the corner of her eye.

The plan had disintegrated. She had failed the king. She had been a fool to part ways with Regulus. If they had stayed together, maybe she wouldn’t be in this mess. Perhaps if Regulus had been there, she might have won. Or escaped. And at least she wouldn’t be alone. Or maybe Regulus would be dead. She shifted, trying to find a position that didn’t hurt her shoulders, back, neck, or hips. That proved impossible.

With nothing else to do, her thoughts wandered. The only spot of light in her dark mind was that people had witnessed her and Kirven’s magic on full display. Perhaps word would make it to the king, and he would be extra cautious. But that was small comfort against all her other concerns. Kirven was more powerful than she had feared. Wouldanyamount of caution or security be enough to save the king?

And who would come for her? Would Nolan come himself, or would he send someone? What would he do when he had her? She pushed that thought away. Where was Regulus? Had he made it to Belanger castle yet? Did he stand a chance against Nolan?

“Please be safe, Regulus,” Adelaide whispered. She cried herself to sleep.

Chapter 19

Regulus paced, hissword swaying and chainmail rustling with his swift stride. Caleb had been gone too long. He scowled at the sun half-hidden behind the trees lining the horizon. Much too long. If Caleb had been captured, the blame fell squarely on Regulus’ shoulders. And if Caleb had been captured, that meant they had even less of a chance of success than he had feared. It would mean he had done the exact thing he had sworn to never knowingly do. He had led his men on a suicide mission. And he had left Adelaide to fend for herself to do it.

Thoughts of the last time he had led his men into a trap flashed in his mind. Images of friends’ lifeless bodies, of ten graves. He shoved the memory aside. That wouldn’t happen this time. He wouldn’t let it. And the sorcerer wasn’t here.

As he paced, his long shadow moved over the rest of his men. They sat on stumps or on the ground in front of their tiny make-shift camp of three low tents, their horses staked nearby. Estevan and Perceval played with dice while Dresden watched. Jerrick knelt with his eyes closed, his lips moving silently. Praying to Hallilek. He had a faith Regulus envied. Harold remained at Arrano—Regulus refused to put the youth in Carrick’s path.

“He’s fine, Captain. Cal’s always fine, just tardy. Stop your pacing.” Perceval threw down his dice and wrinkled his nose. Regulus did not stop pacing.

Estevan whooped. “Ha! That’s two homemade mince pies for me!”

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