Page 138 of Sword & Sacrifice

“Strong, solid, dependable.” A smile spread over Silas’ lips as he spoke, and when he finally looked at Archer, his eyes glimmered with joy. He reached up and ran his thumb over Archer’s nose, tracing the evidence of past breaks. “Just a little bit crooked.”

Archer snorted and snatched up Silas’ hand, bringing it to his lips to steal a quick kiss. He wanted to hold onto it—he never wanted to let go—but they needed to clear the air first. He needed to know why and how Silas was here. What it meant for them and for their kingdoms. So Archer released him for now and guided him into the castle.

The study he led Silas to had once belonged to Archer’s father and had only become Archer's after his father had passed. It had witnessed hundreds of attempts to reform an alliance between Arnsveld and Bellacosta over the decades. Perhaps now an alliance could finally pass.

Or perhaps they would need to go to war again. It all depended on why Silas was here.

Instead of sitting behind the desk, Archer gestured for Silas to sit in one of the visitor’s chairs and sat next to him. They needed to be on even footing for this conversation to be productive. As soon as they settled, he got right to the point. “Why are you here?”

Shock and pain flashed in Silas’ eyes, and he leaned back in his chair as if to put space between them.

Archer cursed his clumsy tongue and tried again. He grabbed Silas’ hand and assured him, “I’m happy you are, but you never wanted to leave Bellacosta.”

Silas relaxed and entwined his fingers with Archer’s. “It’s not that I never wanted to leave; I never felt I could.”

“What changed?” Dread tainted Archer’s hope. “Did Varro …”

“Varro is dead,” Silas reassured him. “As is Jacoby. It’s all a long story that I can explain later, but we have more important things to discuss.” He took a deep, bracing breath, his grip on Archer tightening. “One of the reasons I couldn’t leave Bellacosta, at least not voluntarily”—his lips quirked in a forced smile as he side-stepped the minor issue of Archer kidnapping him—“was because I didn’t trust anyone to govern in my stead. I may have only been a figurehead to the old council, but my presence at least tempered their actions.”

Archer knew that the old council had only dared to rebel and start a war after Archer stole Silas away, but he refused to feel any guilt over his actions. Breaking Silas’ curse had been the first step to freeing both king and country from Alistair’s plots. But even with the traitors dead, neither Arnsveld nor Bellacosta were in any state to be without their leaders. “And you trust your new council?” he asked carefully.

Silas sighed. “Not entirely. Mirinda only trusts my input when it already aligns with her own ideas of how the country should be led, yet she doesn’t have the confidence to make decisions herself. Felicity is too new and still learning her role. But Cal returned, so at least we have our Head of the Merchant’s Guild back.”

The news surprised Archer. He didn’t know much about the adviser. They’d only met briefly during Archer’s first visit to Litus. By the time Archer returned, Cal was already gone. “Was he really on a trade mission?”

“It may have started that way, but he changed course and went to Denholmstead.” Silas’ hands tightened on Archer’s. “He found my father and my … brother.”

Archer had never heard of another Bellacostan prince. From Silas’ conflicted expression, he guessed the secret had been kept even from him. Other facts settled into place, making Archer’s heart pound faster. “The king consort returned,” he repeated slowly.

“With a potential heir,” Silas finished. “Well, not potential anymore since I signed the paperwork to officially name him as my successor before I left. It’ll be a decade or more before he’s ready to take over, but with our father to guide him, he’ll be better prepared to lead than I was.”

Archer stared at Silas in silent awe, worried that anything he said would shatter the dream taking shape right in front of him.

“Which leads me to why I’m here. Archer Kasen,” Silas murmured, his soft brown eyes locked on Archer’s. “Will you marry me?”

Chapter Fifty-Six

Silence stretched between them as Silas waited for a response. Archer had always been sparse with his words but now his only reaction was a dark, intense stare.

Silas thought the reason Archer had reacted so badly to the idea of a marriage alliance was because of a misunderstanding. That he’d taken Mirinda’s idea that two kings could not marry each other to heart. Maybe he just didn’t want to marry me … If that was the case, Silas would withdraw the offer, but he wanted to make his own feelings clear first. “I want to be with you, to spend the rest of my life bound to you in a way no one can deny. Not as a secret, but as partners working toward a brighter future.”

“You don’t want me to marry a noble woman?” Archer demanded.

Disgust spiked Silas’ heart. “Why would I ever want to share you with anyone else? I’m not that generous.” If Mirinda was there now, he would have lectured her until her ears bled for putting that idea in Archer’s head. He needed Archer to understand that the marriage could both be for them and for their kingdoms. “I want to show our kingdoms that we’re a united front. Anyone who wants to challenge one of us would have to challenge us both. Though I guess that benefits Bellacosta more than Arnsveld since your army is certainly the more impressive. And I really don’t know if a marriage alliance would quell the rumors of invasion.” He frowned as he realized the snags in his plan. Maybe Archer doesn’t want to marry me because it will cause more problems? “If you don’t like the idea of a marriage alliance. We can find another way—”

Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him close. Archer’s deep voice whispered in his ear, “Yes, Silas Meris, I will marry you. I want to share my whole world with you.”

Relief flooded all of Silas’ senses, leaving him lightheaded. He pulled away from Archer just enough to kiss him again. Archer dragged him forward until Silas sat on his lap, making sure never to break apart their hungry, desperate lips.

Silas hummed happily and slipped his tongue between Archer’s lips. He buried his hands into Archer’s hair, tangling his fingers in the thick curls. One of Archer’s hands cupped Silas’ cheek, stroking the new beard growth almost reverently. The other tightened around Silas’ waist, keeping them pressed flush against one another.

Silas would have happily remained wrapped in Archer’s—his betrothed’s—strong embrace for hours if it weren’t for the loud, ominous creak. He reluctantly pulled away and rested his forehead against Archer’s, struggling to catch his breath. “If we don’t move soon, the chair is going to break.”

Archer growled in annoyance at the interruption, but he recovered soon enough. “Bed.” He cleared his throat roughly and continued, “Let’s move to a bed.”

There was still so much to discuss. Silas needed to explain everything that happened in Litus, and he wanted to hear about what had happened in Casselarn, the fight against Alistair that had almost toppled a mountain. But they’d been separated for so long, all he wanted to do was feel Archer inside of him, to know this was real.

Everything else could wait.