Page 32 of Sword & Sacrifice

But Everett was always a wild man on their missions. A fierce fighter who thrived on spilled blood. He took missions as much for the thrill of the kill as he did for the money. When peace stretched on for too long, all that rage and hunger boiled inside of him until it spilled over onto the people around him.

It didn’t take much encouragement for Adelaide to explain the bruises to Valerian. How one of her potions had exploded in the kitchen, and when Everett saw the mess, he’d grabbed her arm and dragged her to the sink. “You aren’t leaving until every goddamn speck is cleaned.”

Five minutes after hearing the story, Valerian had already begun plotting. For her to successfully escape Everett, Valerian needed to keep him occupied for as long as possible.

Valerian stuck his hand into his pocket and pulled out a tiny blade, the size of a needle. It expanded in his grip, growing to the same size as Everett’s longsword. Sparks flew when the blades met, and the scent of hot metal filled the air.

“Let her leave,” Valerian said.

Everett wordlessly continued his assault. His eyes flickered between blue and brown. Valerian’s mind raced, trying to understand why that seemed so wrong. Even as his mind was occupied, his body continued to block and parry Everett’s moves, as if playing through a familiar script.

Another rip of fabric distracted Valerian, followed by a needle-sharp spike in his mind. Why, hello there, little intruder, he thought, finally understanding Everett’s game. “Which mage was stupid enough to take this job?”

Everett stumbled, surprised by the question.

“You won’t find her that way,” Valerian said. “Better retreat now before it’s too late.”

Another needle stabbed at his brain, hunting for an opening into the secrets hidden within.

Valerian heaved a sigh. “I warned you.”

A wild, pained scream tore through the air. The mage stumbled out from his hiding spot behind one of the buildings, clawing at his own face. “Stop, stop,” he begged as his fingers dug too deep into his skin. “Please.”

Everett’s sword fumbled and Valerian knocked it from his hand. Instead of following through with a final blow, Valerian lowered his blade. Both men turned to watch the doomed mage, one in horror, one in pity.

“I can’t stop it,” Valerian told him, honestly wishing he could.

Skin sloughed off the mage’s face, exposing first the bubbling red muscle beneath, then the white hint of bone. He continued to beg for his life even as his words became a garbled mess, his throat melting with the rest of him.

A dagger swung toward Valerian’s face. He tried to duck but the blade bit into his forehead and cut downwards, barely missing his eye. Blood blinded him. He expected Everett to follow up his advantage and stab him again. Instead, he heard footsteps retreating.

“That’s right! Run!” Valerian shouted, the words burning his throat. “You’ll never find her, you bastard!”

The memory ended and Valerian tumbled out of the tree trunk. Alistair fell next to him with a harsh thump.

Valerian had been through this process enough times that he could shake the disorientation off while Alistair was still reeling. Valerian pushed himself to his feet and kicked Alistair’s head, making sure the mage stayed down.

Before he could finish the job and boot the mage from his mind, Valerian’s eyes snapped open, and he stared into Penn’s sapphire blue eyes.

“Val?” The name was a question the first time. The second time it was full of relief. “Valerian!”

“Penn?” he croaked.

“You’re awake. Oh gods, you’re finally awake,” Penn cried. Tears plopped onto Valerian’s face, hot against his cold skin.

“Go.” He didn’t want Penn to stick around and fall victim to Alistair’s schemes. It would be better if he got far, far away from Valerian.

Penn’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Leave … me.”

“I’m not leaving you!” he exclaimed. “I’m going to save you. You’re awake, so now we can—”

A hand grabbed the back of Valerian’s shirt and yanked him backwards. The last thing he saw before his vision went black was that fucking forest.

Chapter Fifteen

Archer leaned back in his chair, watching Silas’ calm summary of events as he ensured the members of the committee investigating the old council’s treasonous plot were all on the same page. His voice wavered slightly as he described Alistair’s execution, leaving out the more gruesome details of the traitor’s death.