Chapter Twenty-Two
“Any news?” Silas asked, splitting his focus between the Arnsveldian soldier at his side and the workers packing up enough food to feed an army. The Arnsveldians were due to depart in the morning, and Archer with them.
The soldier shook her head. “No sign of her yet.”
Until Silas knew where Emmaline was, he couldn’t offer much protection.
The best he could do for now was send out search parties along every road leading into Litus.
When they learned who they were searching for, several soldiers had volunteered.
They were all people who had grown up with Emmaline or who had been her mother’s patients.
Silas had hoped that familiarity would make the search quicker, but they’d had no luck yet.
“Keep me informed,” he ordered, then turned his attention back to the provisions.
He was in the middle of double-checking his list when a soft touch grazed his elbow. Startled, he almost dropped his clipboard as he turned around to find Archer behind him. How can a man his size sneak up on anyone? “What did you need?”
Archer’s brow furrowed and his lips pursed in displeasure. “Dinner.”
Silas’ heart sank in a sudden realization.
Typically, the palace would have hosted a large banquet to see their guests off in a proper fashion.
Even with the kitchens barely functional, he could have arranged something at the tavern.
“I’m so sorry. I should have planned a party of some sort, but I completely forgot—”
“Not a party. You and me.” Archer’s fingers slid down Silas’ arm, slow and suggestive, a promise of more intimate caresses to come.
After Silas’ botched marriage proposal, they’d had no time alone together.
His tongue stuck to the dry roof of his mouth, and he had to pry it off to say, “Of course. Are you finished for the evening?” He didn’t know whether he wanted the answer to be ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ On the one hand, he wanted to steal every moment he could with Archer before they were separated again.
On the other, he worried that their conversation would be stilted and awkward.
That they would both be too wary of unspoken words and expectations to relax and enjoy each other’s company.
Archer nodded.
The night probably wouldn’t be overflowing with conversation. Quiet nights could be enjoyable too. Whatever Archer wanted from him, Silas would happily give. He smiled softly. “All right. Let me finish here.”
Handing his clipboard to a worker, he said, “Speak to Felicity if there are any problems.” He didn’t want anything interrupting their last night together.
The back of Archer’s hand bumped against Silas’, the most they could touch each other while in public.
Silas’ hand tingled from the slight, unsatisfying caress.
He opened and closed his fist, flexing his fingers.
He needed some kind of movement, or he would damn the consequences and grab Archer in front of everyone.
His pace quickened and Archer easily matched it.
They made it to the tavern in record time.
Silas paused by the bar to order dinner sent up to his room, then hurried up the stairs.
Halfway up, he almost collided with someone.
As soon as he spotted them, he stumbled to a halt.
His foot slipped on the edge of the stair, and he fell back against Archer.
He wrapped a firm arm around Silas’ waist, holding him steady.
“So sorry,” Silas began, heat rising to his cheeks. Am I so filled with desperation I can’t even watch where I’m going? He focused on the other inn guest, meaning to give them a proper apology, but froze when he saw Mirinda.
She nodded to silently accept his apology, her gaze drifting past him to Archer. “Your Majesty.”
Embarrassed heat flushed Silas’ cheeks even though the adviser had seen them in plenty of compromising positions. He cleared his throat and said, “Good evening. We’re going to have a … private meeting. If you’ll excuse us—”
She stepped out of their way.
Silas sighed in relief and continued up the stairs at a more sedate pace.
“I hope you’ve taken the time to consider my advice, Your Majesty.”
The honorific made it difficult to know who she was addressing. Logically, she would be speaking to Silas, referring to any number of conversations they’d had in the past several days. Yet Archer’s arm around his waist tightened and his expression darkened as he glared at the adviser.
Mirinda continued down the stairs without another word.
Archer changed his grip to Silas’ hand and took the lead, pulling him the rest of the way to the room.
What was that about? Before Silas could ask, Archer’s mouth descended upon his. He’d invited Silas to dinner, but it was clear what he was really hungry for.
It was their last night together, they shouldn’t just spend it kissing and making love, but gods, it was tempting. Silas wrapped his arms around Archer’s neck, tangling his fingers in Archer’s hair before yanking his head down.
Archer’s hands grasped Silas’ hips and he walked them slowly backwards to the bed. They fell against it together, Archer’s weight pressing Silas into the mattress until he pushed himself up and away, putting a few cautious inches between them.
Silas immediately pulled him back down in protest. He wanted to feel Archer’s full weight against him, to feel every inch of him while he still could.
A knock on the door interrupted their heated, silent desire.
Silas had almost forgotten he’d ordered food. At least it had arrived before they’d stripped each other bare, or they would have startled the poor worker.
Archer rolled off Silas and collapsed onto the bed, one arm covering his eyes. His erection strained against his trousers, making it clear what the worker had interrupted.
Silas wasn’t much better off, his gait a little unsteady as he approached the door.
He only opened it enough to accept the tray and thank the worker before quickly closing it again.
He set it on the desk, covering the scattered papers, and turned to Archer.
Still sprawled out on the bed, he looked equal parts beautiful and miserable.
“We should eat while it’s warm,” Silas said. “And while we eat, we need to talk.”
Archer finally stood up and stalked toward the desk.
He placed a hand on either side of Silas, capturing him between his strong arms, and leaned down to kiss him again.
Though the kiss was softer, it still had a hint of tongue and desperate frenzy.
When he pulled away, he looked at Silas, eyes dark with desire.
“Duty first,” he agreed. His thumb traced the edge of Silas’ lips.
“For the rest of the night, you’re mine. ”
Talking while eating was a fine idea until their mouths were full.
The sounds of chewing and nothing else filled the small room for a long time.
Usually, Archer didn’t like to talk while he ate.
That had changed somewhat after meeting Silas, who filled every meal with conversation, but usually he talked while Archer listened.
Even though Silas clearly had something he wanted to discuss, he hadn’t said a word since taking his first bite.
Archer didn’t know where to start. Everything had become so muddled in his brain. Mushy, murky thoughts slipping through his fingers. They should talk about the alliance, the trade agreements, the future of their kingdoms.
Eventually, Archer broke the silence. “I’ll write to you.”
Silas’s lips quirked but the smile was short-lived. “That’ll be more difficult without magic. The letters will take days at best, more likely weeks.”
Archer’s brow furrowed and he glowered at his plate, poking at a piece of broccoli.
“Any news from Penn?” Silas asked, hopeful.
Archer shook his head. Unless he intercepted the messenger on the road, he would probably miss any letters from Penn.
“I hope he and Valerian are all right.”
“They’ll manage.” They were both strong, trained fighters, which Archer had more faith in than Valerian’s magic. If they found trouble in Sparrow Hill, they could hopefully hold their own until Archer arrived with backup.
“At least they’re together.”
Archer squeezed his eyes shut. He hated leaving Silas—again.
But like before, he knew it was necessary.
Last time, Silas had been left alone with only a witch to protect him.
This time, Archer’s own people would be here to guard him.
Still, some part of Archer—quite a large part—wanted Silas to say—
“Stay with me.” Silas pulled the words straight from Archer’s thoughts.
Archer cupped Silas’ cheek, running his thumb over the thick stubble, the rough start to a beard.
It made him look older than when they’d met, like years had passed instead of months.
But he looked healthier too, less like faded ink on a page and more like a complete book.
“I want to stay with you,” Archer whispered.
Silas closed his eyes and leaned into Archer’s hand.
Archer swallowed roughly and finished, “Once it’s safe.”
I’m leaving you now so no one can tear us apart in the future. The words might have been easy to say for anyone else. For Archer, they were tied up in his useless tongue. Every time he tried to push past the knots, it all became more tangled.
The time to speak his mind passed as soon as Silas pressed his lips to Archer’s. He willingly let the words go in favor of using his tongue in a more pleasurable manner.
They abandoned their half-eaten dinners and their half-understood conversation.
The frantic passion they’d had before melted into something sweeter. Each kiss was slow and leisurely, as if they could force the night to match their pace, to give them more time together.