Page 46 of Sword & Sacrifice

Archer mulled over the options before admitting, “I don’t know.”

Her dark eyebrows shot upward. “He doesn’t know you’re assigning him a personal guard, does he?”

Before the fire, the palace was crawling with dozens of guards who could keep Silas safe, but they guarded the building as much as they guarded the king. Silas needed someone who would put his safety first, even when he insisted on throwing himself straight into the chaos.

“Should they be stealthy about it, then?” Emera asked with a mix of amusement and annoyance. “Protect him from the shadows?”

Archer gave her a flat look. “As long as they don’t interfere with his work, he won’t complain.”

“You could ask him what type of guards he’d like yourself, you know, rather than leave it up to me to decide.”

Archer ignored the jab and considered the options. “Quiet, male, someone willing to wear the Bellacostan uniforms so they can blend in with the ranks.” The memory of Silas admiring Penn on their first meeting, and Darian as he’d hefted those heavy boxes, made Archer add one more condition, “Married.”

“Married?” Emera asked. “What does that have to do with anything?”

He glowered at her and refused to elaborate. “Can you handle the task? Or should I assign someone else?”

She scowled at his doubting remarks. “Of course I can handle it. I’ll don a fake beard and guard the damn king myself if I have to.”

Satisfied, Archer nodded and left her to her task. He’d done what he could to ensure Silas and Bellacosta would be protected. Now, he could focus on protecting his own home.

Chapter Twenty-One

The last ward guarding Valerian’s shop broke without any fanfare. One moment, Valistair’s fingers carefully unknotted the magic, the next his hands fell to his sides, still for the first time in hours. Exhaustion hung over him like a cloak—his shoulders slumped and his eyes drooped. He swayed gently and might have fallen if Penn hadn’t caught him with an arm around his waist.

Seeing Valerian so weak was unnerving. Even when he’d passed out from magical exhaustion after fighting Gavril, his muscled body still felt strong and capable. Now he felt as thin as liquid, like he would slip straight through Penn’s embrace and drain away.

“Don’t touch him,” Niall snapped, scurrying over to them. He pried Penn’s arm off Valistair, forcefully taking his place. Niall grunted as the other mage’s weight settled on him, a heavier burden for him than it had been for Penn. “Here, drink this.” He held a vial up to Valistair’s lips.

The mage closed his eyes and gulped the potion greedily.

Penn watched with a small measure of guilt, wondering if that was one of the potions he’d tampered with. He’d refilled the vials with water, so it shouldn’t harm Valistair, but it wouldn’t help him either. Please tell me I didn’t just kill Val before I could save him.

Nothing happened. Valistair still looked as weak and tired as before.

Niall glowered at the bottle and tossed it to the side. The glass crashed against the stone, spraying tiny shards everywhere. He ignored it, leaving it there for anyone to stumble upon and hurt themselves. “The mercenary should have supplies.”

Penn waited a few steps back and watched in silence as Niall fumbled with the door handle and shoved his way inside.

“What the fuck? Where … where is everything?” Forgetting for a moment that he was the only thing holding up his master, Niall released Valistair, who grabbed onto a nearby shelf to steady himself.

The shop had two floors with three main areas. The backroom they had entered was Valerian’s workshop. A desk pressed against one wall, the surface clear of any items. Bare shelves and cabinets lined the other wall.

Niall grabbed one of the cabinet drawers and yanked it open, leaning over it until he almost fell inside. From his snarl of frustration, the drawers were empty. He shoved the drawer back in with a harsh crack and stomped toward the door leading to the rest of the shop.

Penn stepped up next to Valistair and steadied him, holding him up as they walked to the desk chair. As soon as he sat down, Valistair closed his eyes and leaned his head back. After a moment, he murmured, “This would be an excellent time.”

“Excellent time for what?”

“For you to escape. Or kill me. Niall’s distracted, I’m weakened—you won’t get another opportunity like this one.”

Penn crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “The only way to kill you is to kill Valerian, and I haven’t given up on him yet.” The mage already knew his motivation, there was no reason to play coy.

The mage laughed, a dry rasp. “Such loyalty. If only it were for me instead of him.” He peeled his eyes open and peered around the room. His lips moved, shaping silent words.

Penn’s breath hitched as he watched the mage’s strange behavior. He’d guided Alistair and Niall here specifically hoping that something in the shop could help Valerian escape his mental prison. Did the plan actually work? Is Val waking up?

The tip of the mage’s tongue peeked out and traced his bottom lip as he said, voice faint enough to get lost in a breeze, “Lick it up.”