Chapter 29
Archer shot up in bed, his hand instinctively reaching for the weapon he kept near him at all times now. His hand was around the hilt of the dagger before he had even properly opened his eyes, but it took him a few moments to realize that whatever had woken him was not in the room.
There were voices—a commotion. Outside his chambers, people were screaming and footsteps echoed all around him.
Heart hammering, Archer rushed to the window to look outside, only to find no signs of an attack. That had been his first concern once he realized he was alone in the room, that an enemy had decided to attack out of the blue, with no warning from their side or from his scouts.
But even though there was activity in the courtyard below, there was nothing to suggest they were under siege, so whatever had happened had to have happened from within.
In seconds, he was out of bed and pulling a tunic over his head to rush out into the corridor. There, guards passed by him, followed by servants, all of them confused as they shouted intelligibly at each other.
Soon, Keir found him, grabbing his shoulders and coming to a sudden halt just as he was about to rush by. Archer was relieved to see him; if anyone knew hat was going on, it would be Keir.
“What’s happenin’?” Archer asked. “What’s wrong?”
“There is a fire,” said Keir. “In the east wing.”
Archer’s blood drained from his face and his dagger clattered to the floor, falling from his hand. Bile rose to the back of her throat, his heart shattering to a million pieces.
River was there. His child was there.
“How? When?”
“I daenae ken,” said Keir. “But we’re workin’ on it.”
“River?”
Keir gave Archer a steady look and it was all he needed to know the truth. She was there. She was there and he was too far away from her to do anything to save her.
“I’m goin’.”
“Archer, nae!” said Keir as he tightened his grip on Archer’s shoulders. Archer, though, was quick to to shove him back and pick up his dagger from the floor, holding it tightly in his palm.
This wasn’t an accident; he knew it, deep in his heart. This was an attack, just like he had been attacked twice. This was a calculated move. Someone from within the castle was trying to hurt him, only this time, they were using River to get to him.
River and his child.
“We need ye alive!” Keir called after him as Archer forced his way through the crowd, but he ignored him. How could he think about himself when River was in danger? How could he ever consider anything, anyone but her?
Before he could get too far, though, Archer fell right into Arya and Colby, who were standing in a small nook in the corridor, clinging onto each other. Their eyes were filled with tears, their faces red, as if they had been crying for a very long time, and soot covered their skin and clothes.
They had been in the middle of the fire. They had been there and they had escaped.
“Archer!” Colby cried, rushing to him and grabbing his legs, holding onto him tightly. Arya followed close behind, her hands trembling, her gaze empty save for a bottomless grief.
“It’s alright, calm down,” Archer told them, patting Colby’s head gently. “Tell me what’s wrong. What happened?”
“Someone attacked River,” Arya said. “Someone is tryin’ to hurt her. We saw him. He was wearin’ a cloak, I didnae see his face, I—”
“I ken him,” Archer said, though he didn’t quite know the man’s identity. All he knew was that it had to be the same man who had attacked him. “Did ye see River? Is she alright?”
“She saved us,” said Arya. “Please…please daenae let anythin’ happen to her.”
“I’ll find her,” Archer promised. “I willnae let her get hurt.”
That seemed to calm both children down a little, though not enough to stop their cries. Archer glanced over his shoulder and found Keir, calling him over.
“Take care of them,” he told him. “Daenae let them out of yer sight.”
Keir nodded dutifully, and then Archer was gone once more, running through the castle corridors. The closer he got to the eastern wing, the less people he saw, though those who were there had a purpose—they were all trying to put out the fire with any means they could.
The fire had spread. He was still far from River’s chambers and yet there were flames everywhere, consuming the entire place. Archer knew the castle like the back of his hand, though, and he took a different route to get to her chambers, one that didn’t seem to have nay people—or fire.
Whoever had done this had made sure to have a way out for himself, too. And that could only mean that he knew his way around the castle just as well as Archer did.
“Me Laird!”
The familiar voice stopped him dead in his tracks and Archer looked up to see Finlay up ahead, gesturing at him to approach.
“It’s River!” the man called as Archer rushed to him. “Ye must help me, me Laird, she’s trapped.”
“Aye, of course,” said Archer. “Let us hurry.”
He stepped ahead of Finlay to lead the way, though the man had to know it, since the eastern wing was his home, too. Just as he passed by him, though, he saw the glint of a blade, just the smallest hint of light that alerted him to an attack.
Archer turned just in time to stop Finlay’s blade with his own. In the dim light of the corridor, the man’s eyes glinted with hatred and bitterness, and Archer was stunned to find himself under attack by none other than him.
He couldn’t understand why. He also didn’t care. If Finlay had lost his mind, that was the last of Archer’s priorities. All he cared about was saving River.
“Fall back,” Archer growled. “Or I’ll kill ye.”
Finlay let out a bitter laugh. “Nae if I kill ye first,” he said. “Ye will pay for everythin’ ye’ve done to me…to Noor.”
“Noor?” Archer asked with a confused frown. “Who cares about Noor?”
That seemed to enrage Finlay, as he roared and charged at Archer, ready to attack.
Archer parried the blow, stepping to the side to avoid a collision with the man, before he dealt an attack of his own, desperate to end this as soon as possible.
He didn’t want to be caught up in a meaningless fight. All he wanted was to get to River.
“I do!” Finlay shouted. “I care about Noor! I always have!”
Oh Lord…he loves her.
“Get out of me way,” Archer warned him. “I must get to River.”
“She’ll die like she deserves!” Finlay said. “She’ll die for betrayin’ her maither, for fallin’ in love with a man like ye. For havin’ yer bairn.”
It wasn’t as much of a surprise as it would have been had Archer not already realized that Finlay loved Noor.
Still, he would have never thought this man, who seemed so hellbent on protecting River, on keeping her safe no matter what, would now turn against her just because she had fallen in love with him.
Had he ever truly loved River? Or had he only ever loved her mother?
The latter sounded far more likely. No one could simply kill someone they loved.
“And ye will die with her,” Finlay continued, but Archer had no desire to listen to any of it.
He was nothing but a fool, a weak, predictable man.
He wanted to harm others, just like the woman he loved had wanted to hurt others.
They were one and the same, and Archer held no sympathy for either of them.
Wasting no more time, Archer rushed towards Finlay, their blades meeting. With their short daggers, they had to move close to each other, so close that Archer could feel the man’s hot breath on his face now as they stared at each other in the eye.
He had never seen Finlay like this before, but then again, he hadn’t seen much of him in the past. All he knew was that he had to have been hiding his true intentions if River never suspected him.
He couldn’t imagine how she must have felt when the man she loved and trusted so much turned out to betray her. He looked at Finlay with disgust, and he attacked again and again, giving him no time to respond—only to defend himself, though he was already getting slow.
“What have ye done to her?” Archer demanded as their blades met once more with a clang. “Did ye hurt her?”
“I should have hurt her more,” Finlay said, hissing through his teeth. “I should have killed her with me own bare hands for what she did. But I…well, I suppose some things are easier said than done.”
So, in a way, he does feel for her.
But Archer knew he couldn’t use that to his advantage. Finlay had gone mad. His only option was to kill him as soon as possible and rush to save River.
Archer sidestepped the next attack and then turned around, circling Finlay.
He counterattacked, but Finlay was still quick enough to block him with an arm, before he pushed him back with surprising strength.
Archer stumbled backwards, but remained sure-footed.
He waited and waited, not moving until Finlay himself made the next move, and then he charged, too, the two of them meeting in the middle of the distance that had only just separated them.
A cry left Archer’s throat as he raised his blade high in the air and brought it down. Just as he pierced through Finlay’s vest, then his shirt, and finally flesh, he felt the tell-tale sting of a blade cutting through his skin over his right ribs, but he could tell the cut was shallow.
Unlike the one he had dealt Finlay, his blade digging deep into flesh.
For a moment, Finlay’s eyes widened as he looked down at the blood that poured from his body when Archer removed the dagger. He seemed surprised to have lost the battle. But then, he looked Archer in the eyes—and smiled.
“Now I can finally be with her,” he said, and then promptly collapsed onto the floor.
Archer spared him no second glance, no second thought before he was off once more, speeding down the corridor.
Soon, he found River’s chambers, the corridor outside empty of people.
Smoke was coming out from under the door, thick and black, and Archer couldn’t hear a single thing from the other side, no matter how much he tried.
“River!” he shouted, banging on the door. “River! Can ye hear me?”
There was no response, at least not one he could hear.
Archer tried the handle only to find the door locked, and he cursed Finlay under his breath for condemning River to such a terrible death.
Drawing in a deep breath, he took a step back and stared the door down for a moment.
Then, he raised his leg and kicked once, hard, near the lock.
The lock held fast. Archer cursed out loud this time, before trying again and again and again, using all of his strength to bring down a lock that was meant to last.
Then, at the fifth attempt, it finally gave, and the door opened, creaking on its hinges. Black smoke rushed out into the corridor, and Archer coughed, his arm coming up to shield his face.
“River! River!”
Once again, there was no response. Archer frantically looked around, trying in vain to push the smoke away with his hand as he searched for River. It soon occurred to him, though, that he was looking at the wrong place.
He crouched down, and there she was, not too far from the door—and not just her but Layla, too, the two women laying unconscious side by side.
Fire surrounded them from all sides—everything was burning, from the tapestries to the furniture, the wood succumbing to the flame.
In the few moments Archer had been in the room, he had been drenched in sweat, his shirt sticking to his band as he grabbed the two women, slinging each one over one shoulder.
Archer stumbled out of the room, the fire and the smoke burning his lungs.
He could hardly draw a breath, but he could still walk, and he walked with River and Layla down the corridor, carrying the two women to safety.
He refused to stop. He refused to stop and rest until they were out of the eastern wing entirely, until they were back with the guards and the servants who were running around, trying to find something to do to help.
When Keir saw him, his face paled and he rushed to his side, gingerly picking Layla up and laying her onto the ground. Archer did the same with River, and then held her hand in his, desperately looking for a pulse.
“She’s alive!” Keir said, a sudden laugh escaping him. Archer looked at him as he was bent over Layla, cradling her face, but he couldn’t spare more than a fleeting thought to it before returning his attention to River.
She was covered in soot, her face, her hands, her clothes—all of it blackened with smoke. Her hair was a mess around her head and her wrists were rubbed raw, one of them still sporting a length of rope around it.
“Come, River,” Archer said. “Come now…wake up.”
Her eyes remained closed. But just as panic threatened to bubble over, she drew in a deep, shuddering breath—the sweetest sound Archer had heard in his life.