Chapter Forty-Four
Every step Archer took away from Silas dragged him deeper into regret.
Although they were traveling quickly, they were also traveling quietly—everyone too worried about reaching Casselarn in time to feel chatty.
Archer was even quieter than usual, barely speaking two words to anyone unless absolutely necessary, his head too full of conversations he should have had with Silas.
They lay together on the small bed in Adelaide’s cottage, their faces only a few inches apart. The candlelight glimmered in Silas’ tawny eyes, bathed his face in warmth. Or maybe Silas was the one radiating warmth with his sweet, open smile.
Archer reached out and brushed a curl off Silas’ brow.
He was supposed to leave in the morning—the first time they would be truly separated after they’d found each other.
Archer would return to Castle Arn, to prepare his kingdom for a war against a mage.
Silas would stay with Adelaide until they found a way to break his curse.
But all evening, Archer had only one thing on his mind. “Ask me to stay.”
Silas’ smile brightened, searing a path straight through Archer’s heart. “Will you stay with me?”
What would have changed if Archer had stayed? For another day, another week, for as long as it took to break Silas’ curse. Maybe the Bellacostan soldiers would have never found the Witch’s cottage.
But they had found the cottage. Threatened everyone inside, people Archer loved.
And when Adelaide called for help, Archer and a squad of soldiers killed all the Bellacostans except Sergeant Darian.
Even though they’d threatened him, Silas felt their loss deeply, and a rift opened between him and Archer.
Silas had locked himself in Adelaide’s guest bedroom. Archer stood on the other side of the door, his forehead pressed against the wood. “Silas, please let me in.”
The door opened and Silas stepped back, allowing Archer into the small room. “I know you regret the loss of life—I would feel the same if it was any of my people—but they would have killed you under Alistair's or someone else’s orders. If not here, then when they escorted you back to Bellacosta.”
“Bellacosta is still my kingdom and my home.”
“What if I gave you a new home?” Archer strode forward, confident in this fantasy in a way he hadn’t been in real life.
“Come home to Castle Arn with me. I want to show you the mountain view. What a real winter looks like. I want you by my side as we make decisions together. To have your insight on how to solve a problem without a sword or threats.”
He clutched Silas’ hands, lifted one to press a kiss to the back of it. “Please, Silas, come with me.”
The tension melted from Silas as he leaned against Archer, tucking his head under Archer’s chin. “All right, take me home.”
What would have changed if Silas had gone home with Archer? Settled into a life in Arnsveld, where they could lead the country together.
But the peace would not last with Alistair in control. Arnsveld and Bellacosta would have still gone to war, but Silas wouldn’t be in a position to negotiate its end. The war could have dragged on for years, decades, with Archer on the front lines while Silas took care of the citizens at home.
Even in his fantasies, they were separated.
“What’s that ahead?” Norwin asked, gesturing above them.
The switchbacks in the road meant that they were still a distance away, but they could easily see up the side of the mountain.
Trees melded together to block the road, their branches unnaturally fused so there was no telling beginning from end.
Archer looked to Adelaide for an answer.
She pursed her lips. “It looks like transformation magic.” After a second’s hesitation, she added, “Valerian’s specialty.”
What does that mean for the mage? Archer cleared his throat and forced himself to ask the question out loud. To practice for when he would see Silas again and wanted to voice every question, every request, rather than allowing his words to rattle around in his head.
“It means Alistair has deeply rooted himself into Valerian’s mind. Whatever Valerian knows, Alistair knows, and he will twist that knowledge for his own dark purposes.”
Archer grimaced. He didn’t know Valerian well, but he knew the mercenary was already powerful before Alistair took control. “The trees are blocking the path. We’ll need to clear them before the horses can get through.”
“Do you have any magic that can combat his?” Norwin asked, guiding his horse up next to Adelaide’s as they continued up the path.
“Transformation is tricky, since the point of the spells is to permanently alter the object.” Adelaide cocked her head to the side as she examined the mangled trees.
“But this is basic. Not quite beginner magic, but nothing close to Valerian’s true capabilities.
I can’t reverse what Alistair has done, but I should be able to open a path for the horses to travel through. ”
A few feet away from the blockage, she dismounted and searched through her satchel for the necessary supplies.
“What are you going to do?” Norwin asked, also dismounting. He trailed after Adelaide like a curious puppy.
“I’ll dissolve the bonds between the limbs.”
“It’d be easier to cut them down,” Archer said, following them at a slight distance. He preferred mundane solutions when possible. Fooling around with magic beyond his capabilities was how Valerian had stepped into Alistair’s trap.
“We could try, but the wood here is thick enough that you would dull your sword before you cut through half of it.”
And then you wouldn’t have a weapon to kill our enemies. The healer would never say anything so outright bloodthirsty, but Archer could think it.
Adelaide combined ingredients in a large bottle.
A sweet, herby smell joined the piney scent of the forest. Once satisfied with her concoction, she carefully poured a few drops onto the spot where one branch seemed to grow straight through another.
The potion melted a path through the wood, cutting the two limbs apart.
The trees groaned and creaked as they slowly shifted away from each other, creating a small opening.
Norwin whispered a quiet, “Whoa.”
Adelaide slipped into the tangled mess of trees and magic. She dabbed another joint with the solution, carving a groaning, sizzling path for herself.
Archer watched the process closely, unease itching through his veins. “Adelaide,” he called.
She stood at the center of the knot now, hunched over to duck under a particularly tight snarl of five trees. Either she didn’t hear him, or she was too focused on her work to look his way.
Something flickered in the shadows near her head—a string drawn taut.
“Stop!” he bellowed and jumped off Scout, running to intercept the trap.
Norwin was closer, and despite his excitement, he understood his responsibility to protect the Witch.
He grabbed both of Adelaide’s shoulders and shoved her out of the tangle of branches.
But Adelaide had already poured the potion on several joints, and it ate through the wood in only a few seconds.
As the trees sprang free, they snapped the tripwire. A makeshift mace of sharpened sticks swung down, plunging into Norwin’s exposed side and knocking him to the ground.
Archer knelt beside the soldier, guilt and fury blazing through him as he followed the line of the tripwire. Someone had anticipated them cutting their way through the trees.
Norwin gazed up at Archer with pained eyes, blood spraying from his lips. “Is … is Adelaide safe?”
“I’m fine,” Adelaide said, landing on her knees next to Norwin. “Thank you for protecting me. Now, stay still while I work.”
Archer had seen the medics working on the battlefield and in the aftermath of the prison escape. The frantic atmosphere as they ran from patient to patient. Hands moving too rapidly to track. Tension thick in the air as they did everything in their power to extend the soldier’s life.
Watching Adelaide work was an entirely different experience. She was calm, her hands steady, as she removed the spikes, examined each wound large and small, packed them with herbs, and stitched Norwin back together.
Even the air around them seemed to heal, smelling like fresh rain falling on spring flowers.
“I would order you to rest, but …” Adelaide trailed off and looked up the mountain.
But we can’t rest until we make it home.
Norwin coughed slightly and looked down at his bandaged side. “You really are a witch.”
Adelaide chuckled lightly, though her expression was pinched in distress, and helped Norwin to his feet. “I’m sorry you ever needed me to heal you.”
“We all need to be more careful in the future,” Archer said, knowing this wouldn’t be the last trap they encountered.