Page 80 of Sword & Sacrifice

The moment he said the name, an image of Lord Edgar’s pompous servant popped into Penn’s mind. “Doesn’t he have anything better to do than disrupt a perfectly good morning?” Penn grumbled.

“Obviously not.” Valerian pushed himself off the bed, exposing his scarred back. Lash lines covered every inch of it where they weren’t disrupted with newer scars. They were the only wounds that didn’t fit Valerian’s mercenary past.

“What are these from?” Penn asked, tracing a gentle finger over one of the lines.

Val stiffened and Penn immediately regretted the question, until Valerian relaxed and leaned back into the hand still pressed to his back. “Would you mind if I saved that story for another time? Wouldn’t want to ruin your breakfast.”

It wasn’t a complete dismissal, so Penn accepted it for now. He stood up to get dressed and Val’s heated gaze roamed over his naked body. As if he hasn’t seen it dozens of times before, Penn thought, lips quirked in amusement. He slowed his motions, allowing Val to enjoy the view for a while longer.

As Penn pulled his shirt over his head, something glinted on his right hand. Curious, he held his hand up to the sunlight. The light glimmered off a silver ring he recognized as the one that contained Valerian’s glamour. When did I put that on? Last Penn remembered, Val had carelessly tossed the ring away as he revealed all his scars.

I should give it back. Penn instinctively fisted his hand at the thought. He wanted to see the real Valerian, not the perfect, polished glamour the mage presented to the world. At the same time … they were about to dine with strangers, and Val deserved to keep those parts of himself private.

Pushing past his reluctance, Penn pried the ring off his finger and offered it to Valerian. “You should have this back.”

Valerian paused, blue eyes flashing with confusion as he eyed the ring.

Penn blinked, and Val’s eyes were hazel and clear.

Val smiled as he took the ring and slipped it onto his right hand. As he did, the glamour settled back into place, smoothing out every scar and erasing huge chunks of his history. “Thank you,” he said, wrapping a hand around Penn’s waist and pulling him closer. “I’ll think of you every time I wear it.”

Before Penn could puzzle out that statement, someone knocked on the door again. “Your presence is requested,” the peevish voice called.

“Pushy, isn’t he?” Penn replied, rolling his eyes. “Probably wants us gone now that the storm has passed.” Penn gave Val a quick kiss before pulling away from him. He finished making himself presentable, then opened the door.

To his surprise, the hallway was empty. Apparently, the servant didn’t want to wait around to see if they heeded the summons this time.

Penn turned the corner, immediately entering a dining room. He blinked and looked over his shoulder, at the door he’d just walked through. The hallway stretched behind him, leading to a dozen other rooms, probably a kitchen somewhere, but not the guest rooms on the second floor.

As soon as he started to question the oddness, he remembered the route he’d taken from one floor to the next, a perfectly ordinary walk with nothing to hold his attention. That must be why it seemed so short. Shaking his head, he turned back to the laden dining room table.

Lord Edgar sat at the head of it, drinking a cup of tea that was suspiciously amber in color. His wife sat next to him, concentrating on buttering a piece of toast.

Someone was missing … two someones, actually.

“Where are Adelaide and Em?” Penn asked.

Val paused, his hand on the back of one chair as he pulled it away from the table. “Still abed, probably,” he said lightly.

As soon as he finished speaking, Emmaline walked into the room. Her jaw expanded in a yawn as she stretched her arms high above her head. “What a good night’s sleep,” she announced. She looked as refreshed as a recently watered garden, and she blessed the room with her sunny smile. “Good morning, everyone!” She skipped to the table and pulled a chair out across from Penn, plopping into it and immediately piling food onto her plate.

Adelaide followed her daughter at a more sedate pace, settling into a chair to Em’s left.

Now that his friends were all accounted for, Penn sat down and served himself. Unlike the night before, full of vigorous conversation, everyone seemed intent on eating.

Penn bit into his toast and chewed methodically. And chewed and chewed and chewed. It was like he just couldn’t get rid of the food until he forced himself to swallow.

“This is wrong,” Adelaide said.

Startled, Penn glanced up into her hazel eyes. She stared steadily back at him, her expression blank. Then suddenly it broke into a smile as chipper as her daughter’s as she said, “We should get an early start today.”

Did I mishear her? Or was she complaining about the tea? He watched her carefully as she drank and ate, but she offered no further comment.

“Where are we going again?” Penn asked. He sorted through his memories. Why were they at Causley Estate in the first place? He remembered Reginald opening the door for them, refusing Penn entrance until he informed the man about a verbal message for Lord Edgar—what message?

Adelaide’s mouth opened to answer, but she bit into her toast instead.

“Don’t you remember?” Valerian grabbed Penn’s hand and gently caressed his thumb over his knuckles. “You said you’d take me home.”