Page 63 of Sword & Sacrifice

He stared up into the unfamiliar face of a man looming over his bed. Valerian’s blade was buried deep in the stranger’s belly, an act of self-preservation while he’d slept.

This isn’t the right dead man. Even as Valerian realized the change, his body went through the motions. Pushing the corpse away with a wet squelch as it slid off his dagger. Repeating the same scenes in a play.

He searched the body, found the bounty poster.

The more he followed the script, the more his awareness, that sense of wrongness, slipped away.

He packed his bags.

He ran.

He fell into the trap again.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The stacks of files and books surrounding Silas had steadily grown until they created a barrier between him and the rest of the Council Chambers. At one point, Felicity tentatively offered, “Would you like me to help you organize those, Your Majesty?”

To which he replied: “Thank you, but they’re already perfectly organized.” If she’d asked him how they were organized, he would have found it difficult to explain how his ‘least important to most important’ system met up with his ‘most suspicious to least suspicious’ system. Luckily, she’d simply accepted him as a lost cause and focused on her own work.

“Your Majesty?”

Silas held up a finger to silence the interruption, afraid he would lose his place in the book he was scanning. Niall had hidden several spellbooks within the covers of popular romance novels, and Silas hoped to find a copy of the messenger spell inside. Unfortunately, he’d had no luck so far as he sifted through recipes for hair growth potions and stain removers. When he finished, he slipped the ribbon bookmark between two pages and looked up to find Quentin hovering just at the boundary of the paper fort. “Yes?”

Quentin’s eyes were locked on the cover of the book, carefully mouthing the words The Bride’s Revenge.

He probably thinks I’m hiding back here, indulging in romance rather than doing my work, Silas thought, unsure whether to be amused or irritated. “Quentin?”

The treasury aide jumped back, slamming his hip into the table. The walls of the paper fort around Silas wobbled precariously.

“I’m sorry!” Quentin tried to straighten one stack, only to bump another with his elbow, knocking a large stack of Alistair’s letters across the table.

Silas sighed and stood up, leaning around Quentin to clean up the mess. When Quentin tried to help him, Silas not-so-subtly warded off the other man’s twitchy, anxious hands. “What do you need?”

“I-I’m sorry, sir, I just wanted to tell you I’m finished.”

Even though Silas had given them permission to use the Council Chambers without him present, some of the members—Quentin and Mr. Tomlin specifically—insisted on reporting their comings and goings to Silas. It was difficult to appreciate the sign of respect when it constantly interrupted his workflow. “No need to report to me if you’re done for the day—”

“No, I mean, I’ve finished reviewing Jacoby’s ledgers,” Quentin interrupted. He picked a leather ledger up from the table and passed it to Silas. “Since the most recent one was in the library, when … well”—he skirted around the issue of the fire—“I had to recreate it based on the previous month, and then mine and Juniper’s files. There may be a few items missing, but I think I have a rough approximation of the current accounts.”

Silas accepted the ledger from him and flipped through the pages. Until then, he’d somewhat doubted the treasury aide’s skills. Quentin jumped at every loud noise or sudden movement, argued with Silas over the silliest things, and was more dramatic than an actor on the stage. But once he’d settled into the task, he’d finished it quickly and efficiently. “Excellent job.”

A pleased flush colored Quentin’s pale cheeks. “Thank you, Your Majesty, but that’s just the first step. Along with the other records, this ledger tells us what should be in the Vault. However, we know that Jacoby removed gold from the Vault without recording it.”

To bribe Valerian, Silas thought, remembering how the traitors had tried to coax the mage to their side. He’d played along with them and named a price of five thousand gold, which Jacoby had likely taken from the Vault. Afterwards, Silas had allowed Valerian to keep it as payment for his services.

“That’s why it’s important to do a full review of the Vault’s contents before crowding it with other records. We need to know exactly where the kingdom’s funds stand now without relying on incomplete information,” Quentin continued.

“You’re right,” Silas agreed.

Quentin blinked at him. “I am?”

“Let me make a few arrangements and we’ll open it together.”

“Right now?” Quentin asked, eyes widening as he looked between Silas and the precariously stacked paper fort. “I don’t want to disturb your work, sir!” He scratched idly at his neck, his fingernails clawing red marks across his skin.

Except the marks were closer to purple than red, and they snaked up the side of his neck. As he scratched, he revealed a thick bandage below his collar.

Silas remembered previously seeing a red, irritated welt on Quentin’s neck. “Is your spider bite infected?”