Page 18 of Sword & Sacrifice

“Say it.”

“I’ll stay with you,” Archer said.

Silas refused to immediately give in to the call for sleep. He still wanted to feel Archer, skin to skin, even if that was all they did that night. He shifted to face Archer, trailing his fingers down his side until he found the edge of his shirt and lifted it slowly over Archer’s head. Inch by inch, using the opportunity to caress him as much as undress him. The discarded shirt joined the boxes of paperwork.

Then it was Silas’ turn. He closed his eyes, breath short and strained as Archer’s calloused palms ghosted over his skin. The tips of his fingers teasingly tweaked one of Silas’ nipples, then quickly moved on to remove his shirt.

The rest of their clothes received the same slow, leisurely treatment, until they lay on the bed, naked limbs entangled. They faced each other, and Silas was disappointed that the weak moonlight from the window didn’t allow him to see more of Archer’s face. He had to imagine the dark, strong brow, the crooked shape of his nose. Silas was tempted to trace each line to aid his memory, but at the same time he didn’t want to remove his arm from around Archer’s waist.

“Wake me when you leave in the morning,” he whispered.

He couldn’t see the quirk of Archer’s lips, but he could hear his gruff amusement when he said, “I’ll try.”

“No, I don’t care if it takes an entire bucket of ice water. I want to see you in the morning before you go.”

Archer leaned forward, brushing his lips against Silas’. “All right. I promise.”

Silas closed his eyes and clutched Archer tighter. He wanted to stay awake, to enjoy this moment longer, to go beyond the gentle caresses and brief kisses. But now that he’d stopped working, the long days finally caught up with him and dragged him unwillingly into sleep.

Usually, Archer rose with the sun, but this time, when the sun rose, he remained in bed, his arms wrapped tightly around Silas. Archer would need to get out of bed eventually, leave Silas’ side when their work pulled them apart once again. But he had promised to wake Silas before he left, and he couldn’t bring himself to disturb his lover’s much needed rest.

The dark circles under Silas’ eyes had returned. They disappeared after Alistair’s blood curse was broken and Silas could finally sleep without nightmares. Seeing them again so soon felt like a small defeat. Alistair was dead, but his influence lived on to torment Silas.

In addition to the dark circles was a thick, scratchy layer of stubble along Silas’ jaw and upper lip. It was a few shades darker than his tawny curls and several degrees rougher.

How many days had it been since Silas even looked in a mirror? Like most Bellacostan men, he usually maintained a clean-shaven face. When they’d traveled together, his stubble had been light and sparse, barely noticeable. If he left it alone now, he might have a decent beard within a month.

Archer brushed his thumb gently back and forth over Silas’ cheek, amazed by the small change. If the dark circles were defeat, the beard growth was a victory, separating the old Silas from the new.

Silas snuggled closer, mumbling unintelligibly. Then he settled back down, his breaths easing as he returned to deep sleep.

Almost as soon as he did, a knock on the door woke him. His eyes snapped open, and he started, as if he would jump out of bed and immediately return to work if Archer’s arms hadn’t tightened around him.

“Your Majesty?” Mirinda called. She was one of the only members remaining of the old council.

“Yes?” Silas’ voice cracked with morning’s first use.

“Mr. Morten is looking for you.”

It took Archer a moment to remember the contractor working on the palace cleanup and reconstruction. They hadn’t met yet, since Archer had been more focused on the wreckage at the prison than the palace.

“Thank you, tell him I’ll be downstairs in a few minutes.”

“Very well, sir.” Soft footsteps and the creaking of stairs confirmed her departure.

Silas sighed and leaned his head against Archer’s shoulder. “How long do you think we can stay like this before someone comes to check on me?”

“A few minutes,” Archer replied.

“Not much, but I’ll take it.” He pressed his lips against Archer’s jaw, kissing a short trail down his neck. “If we had a little longer …”

“You’re half-asleep.”

“Mm, it would wake me up.”

Archer chuckled and rolled on top of Silas, holding himself up so he didn’t crush the other man beneath him. He kissed Silas slowly—slower than they had time for—his tongue lingering, savoring the moment.

Silas grabbed the back of Archer’s head, tangling his fingers in his hair, tugging him down until Archer’s weight pressed him more firmly into the mattress.