Chapter Seventeen
If the letter had arrived just a few minutes earlier, maybe I wouldn’t have made an ass of myself , Silas thought when the first letter appeared.
Proposing in the middle of a committee meeting was neither romantic nor practical.
Of course Archer would react poorly when he was blindsided in front of half a dozen witnesses, but Silas hadn’t expected Archer’s look of disgust and horror at the mere idea of marrying him.
When the second letter appeared, a shudder of dread crawled up Silas’ spine, and he realized they had bigger problems than a botched proposal.
The outside of the letter he received contained the message he sent to Adelaide.
She’d flipped the parchment over to write on the other side, then sealed it with the crumbling remains of Alistair’s wax.
She could have done this to prove the efficacy of the spell, but she had her own supplies, there was no reason for her to rip the letter in two and send the second half to Archer.
They opened their letters at the same time.
Stay in the city and protect Emmaline.
-A
Magic buzzed along Silas’ skin, sharply burrowing under the surface.
He reflexively dropped the letter and shook out his hands until the stinging pain faded.
The fact Adelaide hadn’t even taken the time to sign her full name did not bode well.
Worse, as the shock faded, Silas realized that the missive was an order.
He’d met Adelaide for the first time months ago, when Archer had taken Silas from the palace to find a cure for the illness killing him.
At the time, she had offered Silas a deal: “I will break your curse, and I will give you the necessary tools to protect yourself. In exchange, I will give you one order in the future that you must follow.”
An order that would be magically enforced. He wasn’t surprised that she would order him to protect Emmaline—only that she hadn’t explained the most important things: why was Emmaline in danger? What was he protecting her from? How was he supposed to protect her?
He waited a moment to see if the magic would answer him or lead him in a specific direction. Nothing happened. All it did was buzz restlessly under his skin.
“Well?” Griselda asked, looking between Archer and Silas. “What was so urgent she needed to write to you both?”
Silas stared down at his letter, brow furrowed. “She didn’t explain. Just asked me to stay in the city and protect Em.” He’d never told them the details of his deal with Adelaide and now didn’t seem like the time to elaborate.
Archer’s expression darkened as he laid his letter down on the table for them both to see. “She told me to come home.”
Silas’ heart sank as he realized that Adelaide was specifically asking them to separate. “Do you think something’s happened in Arnsveld?”
“What’s the rest say?” Griselda asked, gesturing to the words on the other half of the parchment.
Archer flipped it over to show the fractured sentences of Silas’ message.
“It’s the letter I wrote to her. I wanted to test out the wax remnants on Alistair’s letters,” Silas explained, scraping at the crumbling wax seal. “See if there was any magic left in them.”
Griselda’s lips curled. “You know better than to fuck around with Alistair’s things. What if you triggered a trap?”
“It was just a bit of wax, Gris,” Silas replied in exasperation.
“I thought it was better to write to Adelaide first, see if it worked at all. Since Penn and Val haven’t contacted us, I wasn’t sure they still had the supplies to reply.
It seemed like a safe gamble.” He just hadn’t expected Adelaide to be in some sort of trouble.
“Well, write to her again! Ask for some damn details this time!”
Silas took both his letter and Archer’s and scraped the wax off a second time.
It crumbled to pieces in his hand, dry as dust. Frustrated, he wiped the wasted bits away and searched through the box for more magical missives.
All the remaining letters were mundane or their wax seals had already been removed.
“All the wax is used up,” Silas said. “I’ll have to search the other boxes for some.” He grimaced at the wall of boxes, wondering how many he would have to sift through to find what he needed. What if he’d already used up the last of the wax?
“We don’t have time,” Archer said, his expression grave. “If I’m going to leave, we’ll need to make the arrangements now.”
“Leave? But—” You promised to stay. Silas couldn’t finish his protest. They always knew their current arrangement was temporary, that Archer had his own kingdom to rule. If Arnsveld was under threat, it was his responsibility to return home and protect his people. “How soon?”
Archer and Griselda exchanged a look. “How many?” she asked.
“A third.”
“Will that be enough?”
Archer’s jaw clenched. “I’ll make it enough.”
Silas looked between them, confused. “How many what?”
“Soldiers,” Griselda barked. “He’ll leave the majority here to protect Bellacosta and take the rest with him.”
“A third!” Silas echoed. “Archer, if your kingdom is under attack, you’ll need more—”
“We don’t know for sure that Arnsveld is under attack,” Archer said. “And I won’t leave you vulnerable.”
“If Adelaide is asking you to look after Emmaline, it could be the Witch herself who’s in trouble,” Griselda added. “Might have something to do with the rat bastard who sired Em.” She spat on the floor as if to clean his presence from her mouth.
“Emmaline’s father?” Silas asked. No one ever mentioned her father, but Silas had seen no traces of him in Adelaide’s cottage. “Who is he?”
“A mercenary. Not one I worked with personally, I was already out of the game before he came around,” Griselda explained, “but I know one man who did. You both do.”
Silas only knew one mercenary. “Do you mean Valerian?”
“Aye. Adelaide was looking for somewhere to test her healing skills, so I sent her his direction. Figured mages should stick together.” She rubbed her nose, as if she could smell their magic from just speaking of them.
“If I’d known he was partnering with such an unsavory lot, I wouldn’t have ever mentioned his name. ”
“What happened?”
“She came back changed. Em’s sunny disposition?
Her mother used to shine twice as bright, could charm the gold from a miser.
By the time she came of age, half the soldiers were in love with her.
When she returned, she locked herself in her cottage, wouldn’t see anyone.
Erected that barrier of hers to keep everyone out.
Only reason we knew she was alive was because the grocer made weekly deliveries.
It was almost two years before she started seeing patients again, this time with a toddler clinging to her hip. ”
“And do you know who Emmaline’s father is?” After a pause, Silas asked, “Do we know it's not Valerian?”
Gris snorted. “I asked outright if it was him, she told me no. Only answer she’d give me. The rest of the time, it was like talking to a stone wall.”
“So how do you know he’s a ‘rat bastard’?”
Griselda locked eyes with him and asked, “You think she’d be running from him if he weren’t?”
“Good point. Do we know anything about him aside from the fact that he worked as a mercenary?”
She shook her head.
“We don’t know for sure he’s the problem,” Archer said. “The traitors are gathering at Sparrow Hill.”
Silas’ eyes widened at the town name. “You mean where Penn and Valerian were headed? Did they send you a message?” The fact Archer hadn’t shared this news with him until now stung.
Silas knew Archer and Penn had been friends for decades, but he’d also grown close to the mouthy messenger and was concerned for his friend’s safety.
“No, we intercepted a message meant for some Bellacostan soldiers,” Archer explained. “Darian interpreted it as a call to move to Sparrow Hill. We aren’t sure if it’s from Niall or Varro.”
The clarification offered Silas no relief. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
Archer reached for Silas, then closed his fist and planted it firmly on the table. “We were still investigating the lead; in case it was a trap or misdirection.”
Archer hadn’t even left yet, but a crevice had slowly eroded between them. Silas stared across the canyon at Archer, unsure how to reach him when the world was constantly pulling them apart.
Don’t go, he wanted to say. Stay with me.
They were purely selfish requests. Nothing in Bellacosta needed Archer’s direct attention.
If he stayed, it would only be to keep Silas company—to fall asleep together at night and wake up together in the morning.
That wasn’t enough of a reason if Archer’s people were in danger.
So Silas forced himself to ask, “When are you leaving?”
“As soon as we pack everything up,” Griselda said, pushing her chair back with a jarring scrape along the stone floor.
Archer didn’t stand with Griselda. “You’re staying here.”
Fury flashed across her face. Weeks ago, Valerian had disguised her with a glamour, smoothing out her wrinkles and giving her a younger, more graceful air. Every growl and glare brought the old, familiar Griselda back to the surface. “Absolutely not! If our home’s under threat—”
“Someone needs to command the remaining soldiers and continue the new recruit’s training,” Archer explained. His flat expression left no room for argument.
Besides, aren’t you injured? Silas was afraid saying the thought aloud would only make her more determined to fight at Archer’s side, but she’d barely walked away from her fight with Alistair. Even now, she stood a little unsteady on her feet.
And if Griselda stayed behind, Silas would feel a little less alone in this mess.
She may be as prickly as a bramble bush, but she’d always been brutally honest with him, and she’d always done her best to teach him how to protect himself.
Even her growling and brooding might make him feel a little closer to Archer while they were separated.
“Please, Gris. I need someone I can trust to watch my back while everyone tries to set fires around me.”
Her lips screwed up in displeasure, but she finally nodded once, relenting.
“Fine, I certainly can’t leave you alone with just Darian to run this shit show.
He’s good, but he’s not Griselda Holt good.
” To Archer she said, “I’ll make a list of who you should take with you and who should stay behind,” then she walked out of the room.
Finally, they had a moment alone to talk about the marriage proposal. With everything else that had just been thrown at them, Silas didn’t know where to start. “About the alliance—”
Archer’s face immediately darkened, silently slamming a door shut on that conversation.
Swallowing his intended words, Silas changed course and said, “I’ll draft a trade proposal for you to take with you. Make sure it’s fair and feasible. We can … we can discuss it when you come back.” Please come back.
The darkness retreated, softening Archer’s face. As if he heard the silent entreaty, he leaned his forehead against Silas’ and murmured, “We’ll sign it the next time we see each other.”
It wasn’t as romantic or binding as a marriage proposal, but it was a promise for the future that Silas gladly accepted.