Chapter Forty-One
Archer towered over the two kneeling Bellacostan traitors, jaw clenched and hand resting on his sword. One refused to look at him, eyes locked on a tree in the distance. The other glared defiantly, wrapping himself in a martyr’s mantle as if they hadn’t attacked a lone woman.
“What did you want with the Witch?” Archer demanded. He specifically used Adelaide’s title and the traitor on the left shuddered in response.
The other traitor’s lips curled in disgust before he spat on Archer’s boots. “Fuck you, tyrant.”
Archer watched him impassively for a moment, then nodded to Norwin.
Norwin grabbed the man’s bound arms and lifted him to his feet, dragging him back into the stables. The traitor struggled and writhed but couldn’t break his grasp.
Archer turned his attention back to the remaining traitor. “Will you speak willingly?”
The traitor glanced at him, then away and shook his head no. After a long stretch of silence, he said, “You can torture me, but I still wouldn’t tell you.”
“We’re at the Witch’s cottage,” Archer replied. “I don’t need to torture you.”
Adelaide walked out of the cottage’s front door carrying a tray laden with supplies. “A little blackthorn gin to loosen the tongue,” she explained, smiling sweetly at the soldier. “And a bluebell wreath to speak only truth.”
Archer picked up one of the wreaths, handling the delicate flowers carefully, and aimed it over the traitor’s head.
The traitor scrambled out of reach, but with his hands tied behind his back, he was forced to hobble around on his knees.
He only made it a few feet before falling facedown into the dirt.
Archer grabbed him and hauled him upright. Several blue petals fell off, raining down on the traitor’s shoulders, as Archer forced the wreath over his head.
Behind him, Adelaide murmured her spell. With the last word, the wreath closed tight around the traitor’s neck, pressed flat like the image of the small flowers had been inked into his flesh.
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.”
A bemused smile softened Adelaide’s expression. “The general is more perceptive than she lets on sometimes. Yes, I perfected my barriers as a way to keep myself safe. And … as a way to keep Everett away from Emmaline.”
There were dozens of questions Archer could ask. Why did you never tell us? Why didn’t you ask anyone for help? Or warn us he might be a problem. Finally, he settled on, “Why did you let Emmaline visit Bellacosta with me? I wouldn’t have willingly put her in danger.”
“Oh Archer,” Adelaide sighed. “Neither would I, but Emmaline is an adult. Just because I’ve decided to live my life in a bubble doesn’t mean I can force the same on her. Did she arrive in Litus safely?”
Archer shook his head. “I don’t know. Your letter arrived before she did.”
Worry creased Adelaide’s brow as she glanced back at the traitor. “If they’re looking for her, that means they haven’t caught her. But if they attack Litus …”
“She and Silas are both in danger,” Archer confirmed. They both stood, Adelaide bringing the tray with her. “I have to go back. Warn him that pirates may be coming to his shores—”
“Your Majesty,” Norwin called, running from the stables.
“What did you learn?” Archer asked, hoping for more information about the pending attack on Litus. The more he knew, the better they could defend against the pirates.
“They’re planning to attack the capital,” Norwin explained.
Archer nodded. “Pirates.”
Norwin’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Pirates? What do pirates have to do with it?”
Archer gestured to the unconscious soldier. “He told us that Varro made a deal with … someone.” Adelaide had kept her secret for twenty years, he wouldn’t reveal it now. “The captain’s ships and crew in exchange for the Witch.”
The creases in Norwin’s brow only deepened as he looked between Archer and Adelaide. “Why would they hire pirates to attack a mountain?”
Archer tensed. “What?”
“Which capital did you mean?” Adelaide asked in the same calm voice she used with her patients.
“The Bellacostan traitors are headed to Casselarn.”
The pit dropped out of Archer’s stomach.
Both Casselarn and Litus were being threatened at the same time.
The majority of the Arnsveldian army had marched with Archer to Litus.
Even though he’d sent a third of them home, a large army marched slowly.
A small group of traitors may not normally prove a threat, but if they arrived in Casselarn first—if they met up with Alistair, wearing Valerian’s face—how much damage could they do before reinforcements arrived?
But the thought of leaving Silas to face the pirates alone, with soldiers who were as likely to betray him as defend him …
Once he’s dead, the traitor had said in his ramblings.
Varro only wanted the puppet version of Silas, someone whose strings he could easily pull. With the strings cut and the puppet standing on his own two feet, Varro had no reason to keep Silas alive.
Archer strode toward the stable, ready to saddle Scout and head straight back to Litus.
“You won’t make it in time.”
He halted, muscles tensing until they ached.
Adelaide’s voice trembled as she continued, “Litus is a ten-day journey away. Everett won’t politely wait for you to arrive to defend its shores. The moment his crews are ready, he’ll attack. Even if you leave now, you can’t protect Silas.”
Archer’s hands clenched at his side. He barely contained his rage behind his teeth as he bit out, “What do you expect me to do? Let him die?”
“He’ll die or survive without you. Your presence won’t make a difference.
But Archer.” She laid a delicate hand on his sword arm.
“You could save Casselarn. We know these mountains better than the traitors. If we’re fast, we can arrive before them, evacuate civilians behind the castle walls.
Meet them fully prepared on the battlefield rather than struggling against an ambush. ”
“They’re trained soldiers,” he growled. “They should always be prepared for an ambush.”
“Trained, yes, but not battle-tested.”
A muscle ticked in Archer’s jaw. He’d left some experienced soldiers behind to guard Arnsveld, but most of them had joined him for the short war in Bellacosta. Until those soldiers returned home, Casselarn’s defenses were barebones.
Although Bellacosta’s own soldiers had questionable loyalties, the Arnsveldians who stayed behind offered some additional protection. That was the whole reason they stayed. No matter how strong Archer was, he could not turn the tides of battle on his own.
Archer took a deep breath, trying to clear the red cloud of rage from his thoughts. “I need to warn Silas. So he understands what’s coming.”
“Of course,” Adelaide said, relief clear in her voice. “I’ll get my supplies.”
Archer didn’t move a single muscle while she was gone.
He should have saddled his horse, figured out what to do with the traitors—something, anything—but he was afraid that with a single step forward, he would change his mind.
That his heart would overrule his head and carry him all the way back to Silas.
When she returned, Archer stiffly took the supplies from her, holding the charcoal in one hand and the parchment in the other.
Endless thoughts bounced through his brain and for the first time, he understood why it might be easier to speak his concerns than allow them to fester.
“I’ve left him too many times,” he started slowly, halting between words.
“But I always thought I was protecting him. Now … I know he’s in danger and I can’t help him.
Even though I’m not with him now, I feel like I’m leaving him all over again. ”
“It’s not fair,” Adelaide agreed. “If I could, I’d be right at your side rushing back to Litus to make sure my daughter is safe. But I have to trust that the gods will look out for her. For both of them.”
Archer never put his faith in gods, but he could put his faith in people.
In Griselda, who would see it her duty to defend Bellacosta’s shores until her dying breath.
In Captain Darian, who had proved that some Bellacostan soldiers still put loyalty above greed.
And in Silas himself, who time and time again, had proved to Archer and everyone else that he had the strength to survive challenges and curses that would have felled lesser men.
Archer inhaled deeply through his nose and strode back into Adelaide’s cottage. He had a long letter to write.