Page 106 of Sword & Sacrifice

Casselarn was small compared to Bellacosta’s capital. The buildings were short and squat, usually with only one floor. The rare few with two stories were shops on the first floor, homes on the second. The streets were natural dirt and stone rather than cobbled. Neighbors chatted idly as they hung their laundry on the same drying line stretched between their houses. Children ran through the streets, chasing balls and screaming with excitement. The warmth of community radiated from every smiling face.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Penn replied with a grin.

Niall snorted dismissively. “It is nothing compared to Litus. That is a city of true craftsmanship. Beauty around every corner, in the fashion, the statuary, each building designed with grace and symmetry.”

“Amazing. I didn’t know even country servants had the opportunity to enjoy the splendor of Bellacosta’s capital.”

Niall snapped his mouth shut. As they traveled, his servant persona had slipped more often than it stayed in place. Turning his nose up at the simple trail food. Complaining about aches and pains from horseback riding, as if he was unused to any form of physical labor. Expecting Penn to do all the menial chores—setting up tents, tearing them down, cooking when they stopped for a meal. Never once had he expected Alistair to perform any of these tasks, which only made the ruse more obvious.

But Penn preferred the arrogance and presumption, the reminders of who hid beneath the glamour. They were so much easier to process than Alistair’s smooth transition into Valerian.

Even now, the mage rode his horse alongside Penn’s, hazel eyes bright as he examined the people around them. His lips quirked in a wistful smile as another group of children purposefully marched past them, carrying stick swords and bark shields as they set off on an adventure.

“I have a child”, Val had confessed when they’d traveled together. Was the mage’s wistfulness a ploy to keep Penn’s guard down, or Valerian’s memories influencing Alistair? Or perhaps the emotion belonged solely to Alistair.

Penn didn’t know much about the adviser, and what little he did know wasn’t good. Was he a father? Did he want to be a father?

In the time they’d spent together, Penn hadn’t learned nearly enough about Alistair’s history. Now that the mage was pretending to be Valerian, Penn had lost any chance to feign interest in him.

Alistair guided his horse closer to Penn’s and said in a low, intimate voice, “I think it’s charming.” A softness lingered in his expression as he gazed around them.

Maybe he’ll be so charmed he’ll reconsider whatever awful plans he has, Penn thought with little hope. “It’s one of my favorite places in the world.”

“Did you grow up here?” Alistair asked.

Penn hesitated for a long time before admitting, “No, I grew up in Irongard.”

Ice blue flashed over the right eye, as if Alistair had temporarily lost control of the glamour. “The name sounds familiar,” he said, his tone casual.

“It was a mining town,” Penn explained. “At least, it was before the mines collapsed, killing half the miners and taking half the town with it.”

Niall sneered. “An avoidable tragedy.”

You mean if we gave in to your master’s demands? Though Penn had only been a child at the time, he knew the rumors that had circulated—how King Jareth had sought to purchase the rights to some of the Arnsveldians mines. King Holden had quickly rebuffed him, and not a month later, one of the mines collapsed. Coincidence? Sabotage? Or a curse cast by the very man riding casually beside Penn?

Penn’s grip tightened on his horse’s reins as he said, “My father died in the collapse.”

Both mages quieted—even Niall had enough tact to bite back his snide remarks.

“You never told me that,” Alistair murmured, his voice low and concerned, as if he really were Penn’s lover learning about the old heartbreak for the first time.

Penn gazed into those fake hazel eyes. He tried to smile but it slipped too easily off his lips. “Knowing about it wouldn’t change anything between us.”

Someone called out a cheery hello, and Penn used it as an excuse to drop the subject. He smiled and waved and greeted others as their horses carried them closer to the castle. Perched high up on the mountain, surrounded by a tall wall of gray stone, the castle was as much a fortress as a residence. If any enemy kingdoms tried to invade and made it all the way up the mountain, every citizen of Casselarn could fit inside those walls and survive the siege for months.

But here I am, escorting the villains right past the gate. Penn stopped his horse before the guards would have a chance to recognize him. “Well, Reginald, you’ve made this as unpleasant a journey as possible,” he said, keeping his voice cheerful. “But this is where we part ways. Good luck on your errands. Have a safe journey back down the mountain.”

Niall scowled. “Are you trying to dismiss me? You damned, insolent little—”

“Remember your manners,” Alistair scolded, ice leaking into his tone. “You’re here at your master’s behest, and he would not be pleased to learn you were expelled from the mountain for improper behavior.”

Niall gritted his teeth hard enough to hear the grinding. He forced himself to smile and said, “Excellent advice, sir. However, to complete my master’s … errands, I must be allowed to pass his message on to the dowager queen.”

“I can deliver the message to her,” Penn said, holding out his hand.

“I must hand it directly to the queen.”

“Then you’ll have to wait out here while I speak with the guards.”