Page 81 of Sword & Sacrifice

Penn stared at him blankly. He really had no memory of that conversation, or what Val even meant by ‘home.’ Penn’s cabin in Casselarn where he stayed when he wasn’t gallivanting across the continent delivering messages? Or more daring, his mother’s house to introduce his family? Penn’s place was as much on the road, with his horse Scout, as it was any physical location.

Perhaps Penn had whispered sweet nonsense in Val’s ears while they’d fucked. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d rambled empty promises to a partner and forgot about them, though usually no one took him seriously. Too embarrassed to admit he didn’t remember, he asked, “You don’t want to return to your position at Veritim Palace?”

Val had fought hard for his place on Silas’ staff, proving his loyalty in the fight against—actually, Penn couldn’t remember how Val had earned Silas’ trust.

“I’ll return to the palace eventually.” Val raised Penn’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss along the path he’d traced with his thumb. “I want to stay with you a little longer. See Arnsveld through your eyes.”

“We should stop at my cottage on the way,” Adelaide said.

Blue eyes flashed a warning as Val glared at her. The irritation lasted only a second before his hazel eyes softened. “You’re right, since it’s on route anyway.”

A phlegmy cough disrupted their staring match, and Reginald suddenly stood over Valerian’s shoulder. “Your presence is required.”

Penn’s brow furrowed. “But your lord is already—” he looked at the end of the table and saw that Lord Edgar and his wife had left at some point.

“It’s urgent,” Reginald insisted.

Valerian sighed. “I’ll be back. Stay here.”

“In the dining room?” Penn asked, arching a brow. He’d already finished his meal—though he could only remember that one, endless bite.

“Then don’t go far,” Val corrected. “We should leave soon.”

Penn laughed at his concern. “It’s not like I’ll get lost—” Before he finished, he realized he was talking to himself. Val and the servant had already left.

Adelaide called his name, and he turned back to her. As he did, the room tilted around him, like a cart trying to dump him out. He grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself and blinked until the room came back into focus.

They stood in the middle of Adelaide’s workroom. One wall had shelves lined with herbs and other supplies, all sorted alphabetically. The other three were solid gray stone, stretching up endlessly into the sky.

“What—weren’t we—” Penn’s sentence tumbled to a stop as pain burst in his head. Like a cleaver sliced through his brain, separating it into two distinct parts.

“We don’t have much time. I don’t know how long Alistair will be distracted,” Adelaide said. Her firm grip on Penn’s hand grounded him, allowing him to pull away from the pain to focus on her.

“Alistair,” he repeated, confused. The name was familiar, but he couldn’t remember—pale hair, blue eyes, every inch of him as cold as the ice he controlled. Penn squeezed his eyes shut, but it didn’t block out the images assailing him.

Their first meeting at Veritim Palace.

Alistair sneering at Penn through the bars of a jail cell.

The unconscious body of a man they should have killed when they had the chance.

An ice blue eye staring at Penn from Valerian’s face.

Penn thumped heavily into the table he’d grabbed onto. “How did I forget …” Slowly, he looked around the room again, his confusion growing as the details blurred. The only things that remained in focus were the stone walls around him. “Where are we?”

Adelaide sighed. “It’s a little difficult to explain, but essentially, we’re inside your memories.”

“So we aren’t actually speaking right now? I’m imagining this conversation?”

“No.” Her answer was sharp and fierce. “We are speaking right now, and you need to remember what I say to you. If you treat this like a dream, Alistair will pull you back into the illusion he’s created. Do you remember what really happened at Causley Estate?”

“What really happened?” Again, pain sliced through Penn’s skull. Bits and pieces of memory and dream were severed, pried apart, and sent to their separate places.

On one side: waking up in Val’s arms, content, satisfied, gazing into hazel eyes.

On the other: waking up to a cold splash of water. Arms tied behind his back. A nasally voice pontificating on his own cleverness. Then looking into mismatched eyes, one hazel and the other ice blue.

“We found Niall,” Penn croaked. “And …” More memories slotted into place. Grimoires hidden in shelves. An ice bridge melting and dumping him into a freezing river. The servants of Causley Estate behaving like puppets with their strings pulled. The corpse Niall left behind when he’d shed his disguise.