Page 56 of Sword & Sacrifice

“A suitable what?” Silas’ head jerked up and he gaped at her.

“Bride, Your Majesty,” she said slowly, spelling it out for him. “After you stripped Lord Garan of his title, some of the nobles are eager to placate you, which works in our favor—”

“Stop.” Silas held up a hand and waited until Mirinda obligingly closed her mouth. Silas thought back on his botched marriage proposal. The way blood had drained from Archer’s face and the shock in his dark eyes—like Silas had suggested they conduct a blood sacrifice rather than a wedding. The reaction made much more sense if Archer thought Silas was sacrificing him in marriage to some noblewoman. “You’ve spoken to Archer about this before.”

“I have, Your Majesty. He was not as … receptive to the idea at the time, so I hoped you had convinced him—”

“To marry a woman? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

The outburst shocked her, and she reared back in her chair so hard the wooden legs clattered against the stone floor. “Sir?”

Silas should have calmed himself and spoken to her in a reasonable manner, but all he could think of was Archer’s rage at the idea of marriage, the awkwardness between them since that meeting. They’d managed to set it aside to say goodbye, but the rift between them would only deepen with distance. “You’ve either gone mad or blind if your conclusion after seeing Archer and I together was ‘ah, those are two men who need wives’.”

“Your Majesty—”

“When I talked about a marriage alliance, I meant between Archer and I, not some random woman chosen by a council.”

“You cannot marry him.” Mirinda’s voice echoed through the dining room, harsher than she’d ever spoken to him before.

The change in her demeanor shocked Silas into silence and it took him several seconds to recover. “It would solidify the alliance—”

“It could lead to the downfall of both of our kingdoms.”

Silas leaned back in his chair and surveyed Mirinda—the tension in her shoulders, the fists twisting her skirts into a wrinkled mess, and the determination in her eyes. “How could one marriage ruin our kingdoms?”

“To marry another king, you would either need to merge kingdoms or split your time between the two. Trying to merge the kingdoms would only strengthen the belief that Arnsveld invaded Bellacosta and we surrendered to them. Our citizens will never accept an Arnsveldian king, and Alistair’s remaining allies will gain more support as people rally around the idea of freeing Bellacosta from Arnsveld’s tyranny.

“If you choose to split your time between the two kingdoms, how much time will you waste traveling? What will we do if trouble arises, and you are a two-week journey away? Any time you leave, you will be opening yourself up to the traitors returning and stirring a revolt. You don’t even have an heir to operate the kingdom in your absence! You are a king, Silas. You must put your kingdom first and your love last.”

Silas wanted to rage against her claims, but every argument died on his tongue, leaving his mouth parched. He swallowed roughly and said, “I suppose you understand that concept well, don’t you, Miri?”

Shock drained the blood from Mirinda’s face. “What did you …”

Silas slipped his hand into his jacket pocket where he’d tucked the gem he’d found among the ruins. He’d meant to find somewhere logical to stash it, but he’d never quite gotten around to it, and instead had been carrying it with him for the past few days. He tossed it at Mirinda, and she fumbled with it, almost dropping it before she carefully cradled it in her hands.

“A political marriage worked out so well for my parents,” Silas deadpanned, thinking of his absent father. His mother’s cold words as she described her husband, only wishing for him to be out of her life. Well, she’d gotten her wish—Braden had left one day over a decade ago and never returned. “Forgive me if I’m not eager to arrange one for myself or anyone else.”

“Sir, I—your mother and I—”

“You’re dismissed,” Silas said, even though she’d called the meeting.

She stood and curtsied shortly, then stared down at the stone in her hand. She carefully placed it on the table and hurried out of the room without a backward glance.

The moment the door closed behind her, Silas slumped over the table and supported his head in his hand. No wonder Archer rejected my ‘proposal’ if Mirinda spoke to him first. Or does he think the same way she does? That our marriage would potentially harm both of our kingdoms?

If it weren’t for the traitors hiding in the shadows …

Even from the grave, Alistair found a way to interfere with Silas’ life.

But if all the traitors were taken care of …

Once Silas uprooted the problem, there would be one less obstacle between him and a happy life with Archer.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The floorboard creaked, resisting the metal pry bar with all its might until the wood finally cracked and snapped like a broken bone. Penn flinched in sympathy for Valerian’s poor shop. The mage might have abandoned it for the palace, but it didn’t deserve this undignified end.

Niall paused to wipe sweat from his brow, his face mottled from exertion. “Why am I doing all the work?” he demanded, glowering at Penn.