Page 102 of Sword & Sacrifice

Archer took a deep breath, trying to clear the red cloud of rage from his thoughts. “I need to warn Silas. So he understands what’s coming.”

“Of course,” Adelaide said, relief clear in her voice. “I’ll get my supplies.”

Archer didn’t move a single muscle while she was gone. He should have saddled his horse, figured out what to do with the traitors—something, anything—but he was afraid that with a single step forward, he would change his mind. That his heart would overrule his head and carry him all the way back to Silas.

When she returned, Archer stiffly took the supplies from her, holding the charcoal in one hand and the parchment in the other. Endless thoughts bounced through his brain and for the first time, he understood why it might be easier to speak his concerns than allow them to fester. “I’ve left him too many times,” he started slowly, halting between words. “But I always thought I was protecting him. Now … I know he’s in danger and I can’t help him. Even though I’m not with him now, I feel like I’m leaving him all over again.”

“It’s not fair,” Adelaide agreed. “If I could, I’d be right at your side rushing back to Litus to make sure my daughter is safe. But I have to trust that the gods will look out for her. For both of them.”

Archer never put his faith in gods, but he could put his faith in people. In Griselda, who would see it her duty to defend Bellacosta’s shores until her dying breath. In Captain Darian, who had proved that some Bellacostan soldiers still put loyalty above greed. And in Silas himself, who time and time again, had proved to Archer and everyone else that he had the strength to survive challenges and curses that would have felled lesser men.

Archer inhaled deeply through his nose and strode back into Adelaide’s cottage. He had a long letter to write.

Chapter Forty-Two

If only an impending attack could save Silas from his hundreds of other responsibilities. He’d meant to meet with Captain Moira first thing in the morning to discuss defense tactics and the ‘special package’ she mentioned, but before the sun even rose, he’d been side-tracked dealing with newly discovered damage to the plumbing that had flooded the kitchen, setting back the palace renovations. He hadn’t had a moment to breathe since.

“Your Majesty,” Mirinda called for the dozenth time.

Silas sighed. He hadn’t even made it out of the palace’s front doors before she’d found him. How was he supposed to make it all the way to the Merchant’s Guild Headquarters? He didn’t have the energy to fake a smile as he turned to her and demanded, “What?”

Mirinda halted, taken aback by his unusually brusque tone. Clutching her clipboard to her chest, she hesitated before explaining, “I needed to speak with you about the new Treasurer appointment. With Quentin … gone, it’s more important than ever to fill the position.”

She can’t even say the word ‘dead’ but she’s already trying to replace him. “Yes, I’m sure it’s stressful—” Silas began, glancing out the doors. Captain Moira did not seem like a patient woman, and part of him worried that if he kept her waiting, she would pack up her whole ship and leave.

“It isn’t simply stressful. Juniper can’t manage the whole treasury on her own. Already, merchants are demanding to know when their invoices will be paid and threatening not to complete work if this isn’t dealt with. We need to begin interviewing candidates for the position. I have a list of qualified individuals here.”

She tried to hand him the clipboard, but Silas hastily backed out of her reach, refusing to accept it. “Mirinda, I have a hundred other tasks to prioritize right now.” He hadn’t told her about the captain’s warning yet, afraid that the information would somehow make its way to Varro’s ears, and the disgraced general would change tactics. Griselda and Darian knew, and they would work together to prepare the kingdom’s defenses.

Mirinda’s lips pinched in a tight line. She straightened to her full height, raising her chin. Despite her posturing, her voice trembled slightly as she said, “Your Majesty, the treasury is the foundation of this kingdom. Without skilled, trustworthy people handling the funds, nothing else gets done. No one gets paid—not the cleaning staff, not the renovation workers, not even the soldiers valiantly defending our kingdom. This should be your first priority.”

A muscle ticked in Silas’ jaw. “If you feel so passionate about it, do it yourself.”

She gaped at him. “I … I don’t have the authority to—”

“The king is allowed to delegate any number of tasks to council members as long as it is within their capability to fulfill them,” a voice said from behind Silas. “All Silas needs to do is review your choice and sign the paperwork.”

Silas’ heart thumped painfully against his ribs. There was something familiar about that voice. Soothing, calm, yet ringing with authority. Slowly, he turned around, staring in shock at the man standing behind him.

The man was a few decades older than Silas with gray streaking through his light brown curls. Wrinkles lined his green eyes and his mouth, as if he spent a lot of time smiling, though Silas never remembered him that way. No, when he thought of Braden Ellard, former King Consort of Bellacosta, Silas mostly thought of his absence. Letters that stopped coming. The empty space beside him as Silas stood at first his sister’s funeral, and then his mother’s. “Father.”

Braden’s face spasmed as if the simple word had stabbed him. “Hello, Silas. It’s been a very long time.”

A loud clatter drew Silas’ attention back to Mirinda. She flinched and swooped down to pick up her dropped clipboard. “Your Majesty.” She looked between Silas and Braden, her eyes widening as if shocked by the similarities.

They were the same height, Silas realized, not sure what to do with that information. It wasn’t anything he’d ever thought he would know.

Braden nodded to Mirinda. “Miri—forgive me, I mean, Adviser Mirinda. Cal is waiting for you at the Merchant’s Guild. He’s already spoken with the members there about your treasury staffing issue and has a few candidate suggestions.” The words were kind, helpful, and a clear dismissal.

Mirinda continued looking between the two men as if she’d never seen a father and son before. “Yes, of course …” she trailed off, still sneaking looks at them even as she exited through the palace doors.

Silas stared at Braden for a long time before finally asking, “Why are you here?”

“Since you were late to your meeting with Moira, I volunteered to look for you—”

“You know that’s not what I mean. Why are you here?” Silas waved at the half-burnt remains of the palace. “In Bellacosta.”

Braden hesitated before saying carefully, “I thought you might need me.”