Page 9 of Sword & Sacrifice

This memory was one he wanted to see to the end. Before he thought better of it, he touched the bark. Like passing through water, Valerian’s hand sank through the trunk, and with his next step he stood over a gutted corpse, blood soaking his boots.

Buzzing filled Valerian’s veins, his heart pounding so loud he thought it might rattle the structure around them. He bent down and retrieved the dagger, wiped it clean on his trousers, and sheathed it all in one quick, practiced motion. Turning away from the corpse, he knelt, his hands shaking in relief as he gently cupped Penn’s face, careful not to hurt him. Bloody, bruised, and grim, Penn looked two minutes from death, but Valerian could fix that. He could fix anything as long as they were together. “You’re safe.” The words were a promise as much as a realization.

Penn said something, but his words jumbled in Valerian’s brain. He watched those lips move and before he made a conscious decision, captured them in a fierce kiss. The kiss tasted harsh and metallic. Valerian deepened it and pulled Penn tighter to him, searching for Penn’s sweetness underneath.

The dark shadows of the room crept closer. As his vision began to blur, Valerian knew he didn’t have much time. He grabbed the hilt of the dagger and held on tightly as darkness shrouded the memory.

Eyes squeezed shut, Valerian focused on the forest floor under his back, the clothes protecting his body, his hair brushing his forehead. His muscles strained and ached around something clutched in his right hand. Carefully, he opened his eyes and lifted his hand into his view.

The dagger’s blade reflected Valerian’s triumphant grin back at him.

The lord of Causley Estate was a cheerful man who could drink a fish under the table. In the short time Penn had spent with him the day before, he’d counted at least two glasses of whiskey and four glasses of brandy, yet the man remained upright and energetic, eyes crinkled in a welcoming smile.

That smile had frozen on Lord Edgar’s face, wide enough to show his molars, as he loaded up a carriage with all his worldly possessions.

Penn’s stomach clenched as he watched everyone who lived at Causley Estate, nobility and servants alike, jerk and dance like puppets under Niall’s control.

“No, no, not that,” Niall scoffed, smacking a footstool out of a woman’s hands.

It clattered to the ground, and she continued smiling at him as she chirped happily, “Sorry, sir!” Then she jerked around and marched back into the house.

Bile rose in Penn’s throat and he struggled to swallow it. Better puppets than dead. An image flashed in his mind of Lord Edgar’s son, Bern, his throat slit open, eyes vacant in death. That fate could await any of the people here if Niall deemed them a threat.

“I have something for you.” The soft words pulled Penn’s attention away from the disturbing puppet show. Valistair stood near his shoulder, fiddling with a thin gold chain, twisting it in a slow circle.

“What is it?”

“Insurance.” He lifted it over Penn’s head, settling it around his neck and under his black shirt. The cold metal held more weight than simple gold. “You will not take this off.”

Penn’s fingers itched as he resisted the urge to immediately yank off the necklace. “What happens if I do?”

Valistair’s fingers lingered, caressing Penn’s throat in a featherlight touch that sent a shiver down his spine. “You won’t.”

“What does it do?”

The fingers brushed a slow line up the edge of his jaw, then traced his lips. “You ask so many questions.”

And like Valerian, you dodge all of them. “What can I say? You intrigue me,” Penn replied dryly. “I want to know all about you.”

The mage arched a brow, then to Penn’s surprise gave him a real answer. “The spell binds you to me. If you get too far—” he raised his hand so Penn could see it, then closed his fingers and yanked them back. Penn stumbled a step forward, crashing into Valistair’s chest. An arm wrapped around him, holding him steady.

Damned man put a collar on me!

“You’ll have some freedom of movement,” Valistair explained, “but if you try to leave me, you won’t make it far.”

Penn pulled away, relieved when the mage easily released him. He tugged at the chain, afraid it would fuse to his skin—imagining the way Adelaide had forced Valerian’s finger to swell around the ring, and how only mutilating his hand had removed it—but it slid around his neck freely. He left his tests there for now so Valistair wouldn’t suspect him of trying to escape.

Valistair watched him expectantly and Penn tried to think of what he wanted to hear. As far as he’s concerned, this is probably a gift. “Thank you,” he said, forcing the words to sound sincere instead of begrudging.

“You’re welcome.”

Penn returned his attention to the people before him, the ones who weren’t lucky enough to be a mage’s pet. “What will happen to them?”

Valistair glanced at them, unconcerned. “Euphoria gives them a happy dream. When it wears off, the only trace will be a slight headache.”

“And the bruises.”

“Better bruised than dead.”