Page 1 of Sword & Sacrifice

Chapter One

Penn stared into a pair of mismatched eyes, his shock almost distracting him from the dagger held against his throat.

The left eye was hazel, the right one ice blue, accented by a long scar bisecting one eyebrow and continuing down the cheek. The eyes belonged to two different mages, somehow converging on the same face.

The warm hazel eye belonged to Valerian Sommers, retired mercenary. Last night, Penn gazed into those eyes as Valerian finally opened himself up, exposing the scars and secrets of his past. Invited Penn past every barrier and ward he’d erected to find a place inside his guarded heart.

The ice blue eye belonged to Alistair Lindstrum, former Head Adviser to the King of Bellacosta, whose magical manipulations had stretched across multiple kingdoms. He was supposed to be incapacitated, removed as a threat, but those eyes were too memorable to mistake for anyone else’s.

The hand holding Penn up tensed, reminding him of the other mage in the room. Niall Payton’s thick fingers dug into Penn’s bare shoulder while his breath, hot and heavy, moistened Penn’s neck. The earlier confidence Niall displayed while bragging about his own cleverness faltered under this new development.

When Penn first awoke in the cellar, naked with both hands and ankles bound, he’d realized that Adelaide and Emmaline were in a similar predicament, but Valerian was noticeably absent. Niall knew Alistair wanted to use the mercenary. Though Valerian would never submit without a fight, Alistair was a master of mental magic, and Valerian had unwittingly created a link between their minds.

Let’s see who won, Niall had taunted, confident of the results.

Which mage is looking back at me? Penn wondered, searching those mismatched eyes for some sign Val remained in control.

“Hello, darling,” Valerian murmured, the words encouraging but the tone half-mocking. He always said the same thing whenever he rescued Penn—a far too regular occurrence.

Though he couldn’t relax yet, the words offered Penn some reassurance. It’s a trick. He’s pretending to be Alistair to lower Niall’s guard. It wouldn’t be the first time Valerian had faked a betrayal to further his goals. For someone who specialized in illusions and transformation magic, changing his eye color would be easy, even without supplies on hand.

He was wearing an enchanted ring, Penn reminded himself. The enchantment protected Valerian’s mind from outside forces. Adelaide had even ensured the ring couldn’t be removed to prevent Alistair from finding any openings into Valerian’s mind.

Valerian raised one hand to touch Penn’s cheek, drawing attention to the bandages wrapped around it, the gap where the last two fingers should have been. Uncertainty crept in. If Niall cut off the ring …

The blade at Penn’s throat broke his skin, spilling a trickle of blood down his naked chest.

“Identify yourself,” Niall ordered.

The mismatched eyes flickered to him, disinterested and a little disdainful. “You know who I am.”

“Say it.”

“I am Alistair Lindstrum—strongest mage of this age, future ruler of this realm, and your master, which you would do well to remember when speaking to me.” New arrogance tainted Valerian’s familiar voice.

Playing it a bit strong, Penn thought, desperately hoping this was all part of Valerian’s plan. Because if it wasn’t—if Alistair was here, now, with a new face and unhindered access to Valerian’s mind and magic …

Still unsatisfied, Niall demanded, “Prove it.”

Penn squeezed his eyes shut. Either Valerian would falter, unable to fake his proof, and Niall would slit Penn’s throat in retaliation, or this really was Alistair, and why would he keep Penn alive? For information, maybe? His stomach clenched painfully as he imagined how Alistair would steal the knowledge he wanted. Penn braced himself, testing his mental shields. A wall of solid steel appeared in his mind’s eyes, pristine and undamaged. Unoriginal, but it’d protected him for this long. Hopefully it held out a bit longer.

The sharp shatter of breaking glass came from Penn’s right. Cold liquid splashed against his face, startling him into opening his eyes. Niall’s hand fell limp, the dagger clattering harmlessly to the dirt floor as he slumped to the side.

Without anyone holding him up, Penn also started to topple over. Strong arms caught him, the embrace familiar from their nights spent together. Though the bound hands were an awkward addition. Penn relaxed against Valerian and looked over his shoulder.

Adelaide crouched next to Emmaline, using the sharp end of a broken wine bottle to cut the ropes binding her daughter’s hands and ankles. As she worked, she spared Penn and Valerian a worried glance. “Hurry,” she whispered.

A low groan from behind Penn punctuated her order. They wouldn’t have long before Niall came back around.

Once the ropes on Emmaline’s ankles snapped, Adelaide yanked her to her feet and hauled her toward the stairs.

“Wait!” Em cried, looking back, wide eyes finding Penn’s. “We have to—”

“Gods dammit,” Niall wheezed, crawling into Penn’s view. Wine and blood dripped from his scalp into his eyes. His face swelled red with fury as he glared up at Adelaide. “Fucking witch!”

Run, Penn mouthed. It was all he needed to say before the two women raced up the stairs, a furious mage stumbling after them.

Once they were alone, Penn whispered, “Val?”