Page 133 of Sword & Sacrifice

For a moment, Val wondered if this was another dream, another soft death. But the fact that he could remember any soft deaths was encouraging. His mind wasn’t quite the blank space it had seemed when he’d first woken up. He shoved those worries aside, deciding that he would just enjoy kissing Penn, relearning the taste of him, for as long as he could.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Silas gazed out at the Bellacostan sea. Although the fighting had ended hours ago, it was another sleepless night for him. He should have already gone to bed. Instead, he was sitting there, watching The Queen’s Garden’s crew load up their ship with supplies. Preparing for their first official delivery on behalf of the Kingdom of Bellacosta.

Since Cal had already spent months on Captain Moira’s ship, getting to know her crew, it hadn’t taken him long to write up a new contract. Their first stop was a small town near the Arnsveldian border, where they would deliver supplies as well as one old general and a witch’s daughter.

Emmaline had already packed what little she’d brought with her and was now assisting the rest of the crew as they loaded up the ship. Echo was supposed to be helping, but they mostly seemed to be chatting her ear off.

As soon as Captain Moira agreed to take Emmaline home, something settled inside of Silas, like the magic knew he’d fulfilled his promise to Adelaide. He was no longer bound to protect Emmaline or stay in the city. Not by magic, at least.

“Planning to go with them? Start a new life as a sailor?” Braden asked as he sat down on the bench next to Silas.

Silas laughed humorlessly. “If I traded my crown for anything, it wouldn’t be for endless days at sea.”

Braden gazed at the ship for a long time before saying, “It wasn’t so bad, but I agree, that life doesn’t appeal to me either. I missed the bustle of running a kingdom if I’m honest. Back home—back in Denholmstead, I was only a fourth prince, and all my siblings had children of their own. No one needed me for anything, not even advice. It was very different from being a king consort.”

Silas rested his chin in one hand and arched his eyebrow as he looked at his father. “Is that why you returned? To steal my kingdom from me?”

Braden took a deep breath before saying, “What if I said yes? What if I said I wanted to take all of this from you—the power, the responsibility, the choices to lead our country forward? Would you fight for it?”

Silas considered that for a long time. He’d never wanted to be king, but after the responsibilities of the kingdom had been thrust upon him, he’d fought hard to keep them. “I want Bellacosta to prosper, I just don’t know if I’m the person who can see it done. And … I don’t want to be tied to it forever.” He turned away from the sea, the palace at his back as he gazed toward the distant mountains, too far away to see even a hint of them. “My heart is in Arnsveld right now, but as a king, I’m not allowed to follow it.”

“Says who?”

Startled, Silas frowned as he looked at his father.

“Mirinda? Your other advisers?” his father guessed. “What little remains of that decrepit old council?”

“Felicity’s new,” Silas said, as if that changed the point.

“And quite good at her job,” Braden conceded. “You made an excellent choice with her.”

Silas snorted. “It’s one of the few choices I’ve been confident in. Everything else turns to blood or ash. Like last night—if I’d executed Varro like Griselda wanted me to, none of this would have happened. He would have been dead. The men loyal to him wouldn’t have had anyone to rally around.”

“That’s the trouble with being a king—you make the best choice you can, but there are always consequences. What choice would you make now if you could do anything?”

Silas inhaled deeply before releasing it in a heavy sigh. “I would go to Arnsveld. To be with Archer again, clear up our misunderstandings.” After a moment, he admitted, “I would marry him if I could. For an alliance, but also simply because I want to wake up next to him every morning. I want to work together to ensure our kingdoms have the best future.”

Braden’s gaze softened as he watched Silas. “I’m not here to steal your kingdom, Silas, but I am here to help. And if the only thing holding you back right now is the knowledge that this mess”—he gestured to the remnants of the battlefield—“needs to be cleaned up, then let me clean it. Let me make decisions on the palace renovation and who to hire as a Treasurer. Everything else can wait until you return. Call it a diplomatic mission if you can’t call it a love story. Take a few months or years to enjoy the things you were denied because of other people’s greed.”

Silas wanted to grasp that offer and hold onto it tight with both hands, but he hesitated. “What if you decide, while I’m gone, you’d rather be king than just have the responsibilities of one?”

Braden smirked. “Despite what I said, you don’t have to worry about me wanting your title. Koen however … now he’s ambitious.”

They both looked toward the young man, who was also ‘helping’ the sailors load the ship. He carried one small box, though he never set it down as he repeatedly tried to insert himself between Emmaline and Echo. Every time he looked at the sailor, his face scrunched in irritation. Every time he looked at Em, it softened into a shy grin.

“And tenacious,” Braden added, amused. “He’s been trying to get her attention the whole voyage. I think he might have gotten it in his head that being a king is more impressive than a prince.”

Silas snorted. “He’ll learn that it’s more burden than honor soon enough.”

“Or maybe he won’t. Maybe he’ll relish solving a kingdom’s worth of problems. He’s a bright kid—just like you were.”

Silas was quiet for a while. “I don’t want to abandon my position, but I want to …” He didn’t know how to put it into words. “I want to help people. I want to help the Arnsveldians we harmed over the decades. And I know how important it is to fix the mess Alistair made of this kingdom, but my heart isn’t here.”

“Then go,” Braden said. “I’ll write to you monthly, tell you everything that’s happening. And if Koen or I decide to stage a coup, I’ll tell you about that too.”

Silas rolled his eyes. “Honestly, if a third coup is staged against me, I think I’d simply give up my throne at that point.”