Sword & Sacrifice (Shield & Sorrow #3)

Chapter One

Penn stared into a pair of mismatched eyes, his shock almost distracting him from the dagger held against his throat.

The left eye was hazel, the right one ice blue, accented by a long scar bisecting one eyebrow and continuing down the cheek. The eyes belonged to two different mages, somehow converging on the same face.

The warm hazel eye belonged to Valerian Sommers, retired mercenary. Last night, Penn gazed into those eyes as Valerian finally opened himself up, exposing the scars and secrets of his past. Invited Penn past every barrier and ward he’d erected to find a place inside his guarded heart.

The ice blue eye belonged to Alistair Lindstrum, former Head Adviser to the King of Bellacosta, whose magical manipulations had stretched across multiple kingdoms. He was supposed to be incapacitated, removed as a threat, but those eyes were too memorable to mistake for anyone else’s.

The hand holding Penn up tensed, reminding him of the other mage in the room.

Niall Payton’s thick fingers dug into Penn’s bare shoulder while his breath, hot and heavy, moistened Penn’s neck.

The earlier confidence Niall displayed while bragging about his own cleverness faltered under this new development.

When Penn first awoke in the cellar, naked with both hands and ankles bound, he’d realized that Adelaide and Emmaline were in a similar predicament, but Valerian was noticeably absent.

Niall knew Alistair wanted to use the mercenary.

Though Valerian would never submit without a fight, Alistair was a master of mental magic, and Valerian had unwittingly created a link between their minds.

Let’s see who won, Niall had taunted, confident of the results.

Which mage is looking back at me? Penn wondered, searching those mismatched eyes for some sign Val remained in control.

“Hello, darling,” Valerian murmured, the words encouraging but the tone half-mocking. He always said the same thing whenever he rescued Penn—a far too regular occurrence.

Though he couldn’t relax yet, the words offered Penn some reassurance.

It’s a trick. He’s pretending to be Alistair to lower Niall’s guard.

It wouldn’t be the first time Valerian had faked a betrayal to further his goals.

For someone who specialized in illusions and transformation magic, changing his eye color would be easy, even without supplies on hand.

He was wearing an enchanted ring, Penn reminded himself. The enchantment protected Valerian’s mind from outside forces. Adelaide had even ensured the ring couldn’t be removed to prevent Alistair from finding any openings into Valerian’s mind.

Valerian raised one hand to touch Penn’s cheek, drawing attention to the bandages wrapped around it, the gap where the last two fingers should have been. Uncertainty crept in. If Niall cut off the ring …

The blade at Penn’s throat broke his skin, spilling a trickle of blood down his naked chest.

“Identify yourself,” Niall ordered.

The mismatched eyes flickered to him, disinterested and a little disdainful. “You know who I am.”

“Say it.”

“I am Alistair Lindstrum—strongest mage of this age, future ruler of this realm, and your master, which you would do well to remember when speaking to me.” New arrogance tainted Valerian’s familiar voice.

Playing it a bit strong, Penn thought, desperately hoping this was all part of Valerian’s plan. Because if it wasn’t—if Alistair was here, now, with a new face and unhindered access to Valerian’s mind and magic …

Still unsatisfied, Niall demanded, “Prove it.”

Penn squeezed his eyes shut. Either Valerian would falter, unable to fake his proof, and Niall would slit Penn’s throat in retaliation, or this really was Alistair, and why would he keep Penn alive?

For information, maybe? His stomach clenched painfully as he imagined how Alistair would steal the knowledge he wanted.

Penn braced himself, testing his mental shields.

A wall of solid steel appeared in his mind’s eyes, pristine and undamaged.

Unoriginal, but it’d protected him for this long. Hopefully it held out a bit longer.

The sharp shatter of breaking glass came from Penn’s right. Cold liquid splashed against his face, startling him into opening his eyes. Niall’s hand fell limp, the dagger clattering harmlessly to the dirt floor as he slumped to the side.

Without anyone holding him up, Penn also started to topple over. Strong arms caught him, the embrace familiar from their nights spent together. Though the bound hands were an awkward addition. Penn relaxed against Valerian and looked over his shoulder.

Adelaide crouched next to Emmaline, using the sharp end of a broken wine bottle to cut the ropes binding her daughter’s hands and ankles. As she worked, she spared Penn and Valerian a worried glance. “Hurry,” she whispered.

A low groan from behind Penn punctuated her order. They wouldn’t have long before Niall came back around.

Once the ropes on Emmaline’s ankles snapped, Adelaide yanked her to her feet and hauled her toward the stairs.

“Wait!” Em cried, looking back, wide eyes finding Penn’s. “We have to—”

“Gods dammit,” Niall wheezed, crawling into Penn’s view. Wine and blood dripped from his scalp into his eyes. His face swelled red with fury as he glared up at Adelaide. “Fucking witch!”

Run, Penn mouthed. It was all he needed to say before the two women raced up the stairs, a furious mage stumbling after them.

Once they were alone, Penn whispered, “Val?”

A hand trailed up his spine, then fingers tangled in his hair and eased his head back. The mismatched eyes still unnerved him, not helped by the possessiveness in Valerian’s gaze.

“Could you untie me?” Penn asked, shimmying his shoulders.

Valerian only stared at him.

“If you’re interested in bondage, we can try that later. Right now, we need to—”

A ravenous kiss cut off his words, Valerian’s tongue plunging into his open mouth with hungry, dominating force.

Valerian’s kisses were often rough, but this seemed different—more about asserting control, less about giving them both pleasure.

His hand tightened in Penn’s hair, adjusting his head to deepen the kiss further.

A sharp pain jolted through his neck, and he bit Valerian’s tongue in protest, hard enough to draw blood.

Valerian finally pulled away and brushed the crimson stain from his lips.

Both of his pupils were huge and dark with desire, almost obscuring the discordant irises.

“His thoughts are so full of you,” he murmured, reaching forward to smear his own blood down Penn’s check, mixing it with the spilled wine.

“Your name echoes in our head. Your face is a constant image.” His fingers trailed down until they wrapped around Penn’s neck, a clear threat in the gentle pressure.

“I don’t know if I want to kill you or keep you. ”

Before Penn fully processed the statement, faraway curses distracted the mage.

Irritation flashed across his face as he glanced up the stairs.

“Incompetent,” he muttered. “Must I do everything?” The mage started to lower Penn to the floor, as if he intended to leave him there while he hunted down Adelaide and Emmaline himself.

This may be their only chance to escape. Trying to recapture the mage’s attention, Penn blurted out, “Keep me.”

The mage paused, looking down at him curiously.

Scarred and bloody, he barely resembled the man Penn knew, but parts of Valerian remained.

Even if he didn’t have hold of the reins, he was still on the horse.

Penn had no magic, no resources, no weapons, nothing but his clever tongue to help Valerian regain control.

“You said you didn’t know if you wanted to kill me or keep me,” Penn said, lowering his voice to a whisper.

“If you kill me now, you may regret it later. If you keep me, you can always change your mind.” The longer the mage’s focus remained on him, the more time he could buy Adelaide and Emmaline to escape.

Whatever price the mage wanted, Penn would pay it to keep them all alive.

The mage raised his hand to trace the lines of Penn’s face, the reverent touch like a collector admiring a sculpture. “An interesting proposal.”

“I’ll cooperate with you. I won’t try to fight you or run away.”

Interest sparked in the mage’s narrowed eyes. He brushed a warm thumb back and forth over Penn’s cheek as he considered the offer. “And what do you want in return? Simply to stay by your lover’s side? Or do you seek something more?”

Alistair had been a master manipulator, controlling the King of Bellacosta until Silas finally broke free and turned the tables on him.

Even if only a piece of Alistair infected Valerian’s mind, Penn had to carefully word their potential deal.

He wanted to ensure his friends’ safety without wasting his one chance to bargain with the mage.

“Let Adelaide and Emmaline go. Don’t chase after them. Don’t order anyone to follow them. If Niall captures them, you have to set them free again.”

The mage cocked his head to the side. “I recognized the Witch. She would be a better hostage. Aside from some”—his eyes dropped to Penn’s wine and bloodstained lips—“interest, what use do I have for you?”

“Adelaide won’t cooperate with you. Whatever you’re planning, do you really want to drag an enraged witch along?

” Penn could see the mage wavering and pressed on.

“You’ll want something from me eventually.

Information, connections, a warm body in your bed.

” He lowered his voice, giving it a slightly huskier quality.

“Wouldn’t you like to have me all to yourself?

Experience what Valerian finds so captivating? ”

Penn’s heart pounded out a countdown while he waited for the mage’s answer. His wrists and ankles had already gone numb from the ropes binding him while they’d spoken. He hoped the damned man decided before there was any permanent damage.

The mage tangled his fingers in Penn’s hair, then his other hand slowly down Penn’s arm until he reached the bound wrists. “We have a deal.” Pulling Penn toward him, the mage sealed their bargain with a kiss that tasted like blood and bad decisions.