Page 100 of Sword & Sacrifice

Then Archer tilted the traitor’s head back and forced his mouth open with two fingers. Teeth dug into Archer’s skin, but he ignored the pain as Adelaide tipped the cup and poured the contents into the man’s mouth.

The traitor’s throat bobbed as he gagged and tried to spit it out. A few drops dribbled over his chin, staining his skin red, but he was eventually forced to swallow the whole potion.

Archer released him and the soldier turned to the side, spitting repeatedly onto the ground. “Fucking barbarians,” he muttered, but unlike his companion, he didn’t have the courage to look Archer in the eye during the insult.

“How long?” Archer asked.

Adelaide hummed. “A few minutes, at least.”

“See to the other one,” Archer said.

Adelaide nodded and carried her tray into the stable.

Once they were alone again, Archer crossed his arms and stared down at the traitor. “What’s your name?”

“Why are you so tall?” the traitor grumbled.

Archer counted to twenty in his head, and repeated, “What’s your name?”

“Save some height for the rest of the Benedict Traverses.” Benedict’s face contorted in confusion, eyes crossing toward his nose. He’d begun to sway slightly from side to side. “That’s not what I meant to say.”

“Side-effect,” Archer explained. Adelaide had already warned him that the combined spells would make someone say everything on their mind, and thoughts didn’t always make sense. “Why were you hunting the Witch?”

A long, rambling diatribe followed about how Benedict didn’t even want to be there. How he was dragged into the whole mess by his brother. How he always got seasick so that’s why he volunteered to look for the Witch, because at least that was on land. “Is there something called Mountain Sickness? My stomach hurts. I feel drunk. Oh gods, that potion was just alcohol, wasn’t it? Did you lie to me about it being a truth serum? Using mind-tricks to trick me into tricky truths.”

Archer pinched the bridge of his nose as he listened to the mess without interrupting. Muttered words continued to pour from the traitor’s mouth. It was difficult to tell what information was useful in all the nonsense.

And then Benedict groaned and said, “All because her stupid husband is looking for her.”

A crash came from behind them. Adelaide stood a few feet away, hands pressed to her mouth as she stared at the traitor in horror. The tray lay on the ground, the glasses broken into a dozen pieces scattered across the dirt.

“Someone’s going to step on that,” the traitor said, eyes locked on the glass. “Hope it’s not me. Hope it’s you, actually. Fate giving you a little revenge for this.” He wiggled his hands behind his back.

Archer shifted his body to block the traitor’s view, to give Adelaide a moment of privacy. “She doesn’t have a husband,” he growled.

The traitor’s eyes darted back to Archer. “Tell that to the pirate. ‘My wife’ this ‘my daughter’ that ‘I’ll trade you seven ships for their safety.’ I mean, I assume that’s how the conversation went. Didn’t witness it personally because, again, don’t like boats. But Varro relayed the gist of it in our orders.” The traitor smacked his lips and stuck out his tongue. “I’m thirsty. And hungry. But I don’t think I can eat anything here because you might drug me again. Can you let me go?”

Archer snorted. “You’re a traitor.”

“Only as long as the current king lives. Once he’s dead and someone else is in charge, that all goes away.”

The tip of Archer’s sword pressed against the soldier’s chin before he’d even had the conscious thought to draw it. “Say that again.”

Benedict leaned away until he toppled onto his back. He rolled in the dirt, unable to push himself up with his tied hands trapped underneath him. “Nope, no, not another word. Shush. I told you to shut up. Why do we talk to ourselves in the second person sometimes?”

The traitor’s ramblings continued down that path, becoming more and more nonsensical until suddenly his eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped on the ground. If it weren’t for his shallow breathing, Archer might have suspected Adelaide’s potion had killed the man.

Since it didn’t, Archer considered completing the job. They were all traitors to their country, men who had killed for power. The only thing holding him back was the knowledge that they may need more information out of the traitor later.

Archer turned to Adelaide, who had recovered from her shock and was carefully picking up pieces of muddy glass. He crouched next to her and plucked a small piece out of a patch of grass. Does the potion work if you touch it but don’t drink it? He ran his thumb over the ruby drops clinging to the shard. “Tell me about Emmaline’s father.”

Adelaide’s hands paused, then continued until she’d collected all the broken pieces on her tray. Taking a deep breath, she said, “His name is Everett Shaw. He was a mercenary I met during my healer training.”

“Did you marry him?” Archer asked. Is that why she never moved on?

“No. We talked about marriage—him more often than I—but we never officially wed.”

Archer didn’t press further. “Griselda told us he’s the reason you built the barrier around the cottage.”