Chapter 14 #2
Despite everything, the sharpness in her voice nearly made him laugh.
If this encounter had taught him anything, it was that he was anything but indestructible.
Especially now, especially with his memories gone and his body weak from the attacks, defending himself in any way he could had become a priority.
River brushed his damp hair back from his forehead carefully, trying not to disturb the injury. Archer noticed then how frightened she truly was; her breathing came too quickly and her blue eyes shone with panic she was trying desperately to control.
“I woke up because of the noise,” she said. “I thought...I thought . . .”
But she couldn’t finish the sentence.
Archer caught her wrist gently. “I’m alright.”
“Ye can barely sit upright.”
“Still alive.”
“Is this supposed to be a joke?” River asked, exasperated. “Because this surely isnae the time for jokes.”
Before Archer could respond, voices echoed faintly somewhere down the corridor.
Perhaps everyone had been alerted by the noise, and Archer wondered if there was any hope that the guards had caught the attacker.
Had they swarmed him in big numbers, they could have gotten him, but that required them to know who he was.
He didn’t keep his hopes up.
“Stay awake,” River ordered, and then she ran from the room.
“Guards!” her voice rang through the halls. “Guards!”
Within moments, the castle erupted into motion. The guards rushed into the room, now knowing the source of the commotion, one of them barking orders to the others to call for Jenson and help the Laird stand.
Archer tried to stand on his own. He didn’t need help; he didn’t need people thinking he needed help. He leaned heavily against the bedframe as dizziness swept through him again, the edges of his vision dimming in and out.
“Search the grounds!” yelled another man. “Seal the east wing! Nae one leaves the castle!”
Soon, though, the noise became overwhelming.
Archer shut his eyes firmly, trying to block it out, but the more he tried, the worse his headache seemed to get.
A servant appeared briefly behind them before disappearing again, and Archer didn’t know if it was because he moved so quickly or because he was losing time right before his eyes.
Then Jenson entered, too soon according to Archer’s calculations. It seemed that he was, indeed, going in and out of consciousness, and he was quick to wave the guards away, to tell one of them to search the castle and only leave two guards outside his door while Jenson examined him.
The old man’s expression was severe enough to freeze the room instantly. His sharp gaze swept over the destruction before landing on River, standing fretfully beside Archer.
Archer could have sworn he saw a flash of fear on the old healer’s face, and he wondered for whom it was meant. Was it for him, the man who had been attacked twice now in such a short time, or was it for River?
If he had to guess, he would say the latter.
Even with his ancient knees, Jenson managed to kneel on the floor next to Archer, with the carpet as the only padding. He motioned to a guard and the man handed him one of the candelabras so he could see the wound better in the dark, which he proceeded to poke with a careful finger.
And Archer cried out.
“Och hush,” said Jenson sternly. “Me Laird, this is the second attack on yer life in days.”
“Aye, so it is, I suppose,” said Archer with a sigh, letting his eyes slip shut.
“Ye should be more concerned.”
“Trust me, I am concerned,” said Archer. “I’m more concerned about...about losin’ more memories.”
The last part was spoken quietly, so that only Jenson could hear. The old man pulled back and held up three fingers.
“How many are these?”
“Seven.”
“Me Laird.”
“Three,” Archer grumbled.
“Good,” said Jenson. “Ye remember what happened?”
“Aye,” said Archer. “He was hidin’ in the shadows in me chambers.”
“If ye remember, then I doubt ye’ll forget,” said Jenson. “The wound is shallow now. Ye were lucky it had healed quite well.”
“But there’s so much blood,” said River, her voice chilly with terror.
“Aye, head wounds will do that,” said Jenson. “Daenae fash, I’ll take good care of him. We’ll stop the bleedin’ and give ye somethin’ for the pain, me Laird. Then ye’ll rest.”
“It seems to me all I do is rest,” grumbled Archer.
“It seems to me ye daenae rest enough,” said Jenson, who then studied him for a long moment. Then his gaze flicked briefly toward River again, checking silently that she was unharmed.
More guards entered with medical supplies. One approached Archer cautiously, but before they could touch him, another figure appeared in the doorway.
Keir.
Unlike the others, he said nothing immediately.
His gaze moved over the wrecked chamber slowly, carefully, taking in every detail—the broken furniture, the blood, the open balcony doors.
Then his eyes settled on Archer, his gaze more furious than Archer ever remembered seeing it before.
A strange stillness seemed to enter the room as Keir stepped forward at last.
“Tell me exactly what happened,” he said quietly.
And somehow, his calm voice unsettled Archer more than all the shouting had.