Page 34 of Sword & Sacrifice

“Exactly,” Silas latched on to Tomlin’s suggestion. “Even if we don’t completely rebuild the South Wing, we need to make it habitable again. As one of the residents, you should have a vested interest in the repairs, Pryce.”

“I do, yes,” Pryce agreed. “I can’t say the general public will agree.”

“The reconstruction will employ the locals,” Felicity said, speaking for the first time. “His Majesty has already been very generous with compensating the cleaning staff, and I’m sure the citizens will support any efforts that continue to employ themselves and their families.”

“Quite the plan you have,” Pryce said. “Villainize the old council—the traitors,” he corrected, as if it were an afterthought, “with a public trial. Offer the nobles the carrot and the stick: ‘do as I say, and you will retain your titles and the luxuries you’re accustomed to. Disobey, and you will join Garan in exile.’ Then offer the citizens lucrative jobs, hoping that is enough to convince them that Arnsveld is our ‘ally’ rather than an ‘invader.’” If he’d addressed Silas, it could have sounded like a compliment. His eyes never left Archer.

“Thank you,” Silas said, dragging Pryce’s attention back to him. “I’ll take that to mean it has your support.”

“Whatever my king asks of me,” Pryce replied, void of any sincerity.

“Right now, I’m asking you to give this alliance a real chance.” Silas turned his attention back to the rest of the committee. “If you’re staying to review the documents—”

A soft pop interrupted the rest of his sentence as a flimsy, torn up piece of parchment fluttered onto the table in front of him. Griselda sneezed loudly again and cursed magicians under her breath.

“I apologize for the interruption,” Silas said, covering the letter with his hand and sliding it toward him. “As I was saying—”

A second pop preceded a letter appearing in front of Archer. His first thought was that Valerian had finally reached out to them, but his relief quickly darkened to dread as he saw the jagged tear in the parchment, the hurried fold, and the edge of bold black letters peaking from one exposed corner. Whoever had written this was in a hurry, which did not bode well for the sender.

Silas frowned as he met Archer’s eyes. “You’re all dismissed. Please give me the room.”

“But, Your Majesty,” Felicity began, her face pained as she looked at the paperwork spread around her.

“Now, Felicity.”

The committee members exchanged concerned and confused looks before standing and abandoning their mess of paperwork on the table. They filed out of the room without another word.

Darian hesitated at the door, but when neither king invited him to stay, he slipped out with the others.

Griselda didn’t care about an invitation. She planted herself firmly in her seat and glared at both letters. “What does the Witch want now?”

Adelaide? Not Valerian? Archer and Silas opened their letters at the same time. Archer didn’t know what Silas’ said, but his only contained two words:

Come home.

-A

Chapter Sixteen

Before Penn even finished telling Valerian that they could find a way to permanently remove Alistair from his mind, he collapsed a second time.

“Val?” Penn’s voice broke on the single syllable as he stared at the mage’s face. Blood spilled from the closed eyes like tears, staining Penn’s hands. Then it trickled from Val’s nose, his ears, from between his slightly parted lips.

If Penn didn’t find a way to wake him soon, Valerian might bleed to death. I’d rather Alistair take control again than lose him forever.

Penn had to find a healer or medic. If Adelaide was here … he didn’t regret ensuring her freedom, but he wished they’d had time to form a better plan. He wished he wasn’t fucking alone—his head jerked up as he looked upstream. The river had carried them far enough away that he couldn’t see Niall, but it wouldn’t be hard to find him.

Penn ran a few steps forward only to choke as something closed around his throat and yanked him back. Coughing, he scrabbled at his skin, searching for the noose. His hand only found the gold chain the mage had given him, still hanging loose around his neck.

Anger surged through him as he realized it was Alistair’s leash pulling taut. Penn would have to bring the mage with him.

Returning to Valerian’s side, Penn wrapped his arms around Valerian’s upper body and dragged him backwards along the riverbank. The icy river had made his skin cold and clammy, and water sloshed uncomfortably in Penn’s boots. Every step took great effort, and he had to pause repeatedly to check that Val was still breathing. That it wasn’t too late.

Penn had been so focused on dragging Val that he didn’t realize he’d reached his destination until the sharp point of a dagger pressed into his back.

“Drop him.”

Penn carefully lowered Valerian to the ground. Hands out in front of him, he didn’t risk turning to look at Niall as he explained, “He needs help.”