Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“Is that all ye have?” Archer taunted, dodging yet another punch from the man across the ring.
Balfour, the soldier that Archer was currently sparring with, laughed.
“Ye ken that it’s nae,” he called back, rushing forward and sending a flurry of blows.
Archer dodged them all expertly, the rage that had been bubbling within him since Emilie left the night before making him faster and more vicious than ever.
During the final blow that Balfour threw, Archer saw it. His opening. His left elbow had been raised a little too high, causing his ribs to be unguarded.
Archer’s fist flew forward, connecting with Balfour’s stomach in an easy swing. The breath left the man in an audible whoosh, and the soldier doubled over.
Archer wasted no time at all. He threw another punch, and then another. Raining them down onto Balfour with a ferocious roar, one that tore out of the very deepest corners of his being.
One moment, Archer was winning the fight, and the next moment, arms were wrapping around him and hauling him back.
Balfour was panting in a heap on the ground before him. He spat, and a moment later, a splash of red covered the packed earth of the sparring ring.
“Enough,” Marcus’ voice growled in Archer’s ear, telling him he was one of the people who was hauling him back. “That’s enough, Arch.”
But it wasn’t enough. He had beaten Balfour; that much was certain. But the rage and frustration and helplessness that were spiraling in the pit of his stomach were far from gone.
It made his skin crawl, his fists still clenching with the need to punch something again.
“Who else wants to fight me?” Archer hissed, his eyes wild as they scanned the crowd.
Guards lined the walls of the ring, exchanging nervous glances as they took a step back. No one else wanted to step into the ring with him.
Had Archer been a little more logical, he would have understood. Balfour was not the first or the second person that he’d beaten badly that day, but the third.
One after the other, Archer had beaten them to a pulp. He was certain that if he glanced at his knuckles right then, they would be bruised, cracked, and bleeding.
And still, none of it had been enough.
“Ye want to go again?” Marcus growled in Archer’s ear as Balfour was helped to his feet. “Then ye’ll go against me.”
Two men rushed forward, putting one of each of Balfour’s arms over his shoulders and helping him out of the ring. The moment the space was cleared, Marcus let go of him and shoved.
Archer stumbled forward, immediately raising his fists to a fighter’s stance as he turned to face Marcus. His cousin looked at him, matching the stance as the two began to move.
They had been fighting like this since they were children, which meant that they were evenly matched. They circled each other, waiting for the other to make the first move.
Typically, Archer was a patient fighter, waiting for his opponent to begin and show their weaknesses so that he could end it quickly. But today?
Today, he was anything but patient.
He stepped forward, his fist flying out as he threw a punch toward Marcus’ shoulder. Marcus raised his forearm, using it to block the punch and slip past Archer.
“Is that all ye’re goin’ to do today?” Marcus taunted, dancing on the balls of his feet and forcing Archer to keep moving, to keep on the defensive. “Dancin’ around and fightin’ everyone? Goin’ to keep beatin’ yer guards bloody?”
“What else is there to do?” Archer grunted, swinging once more at Marcus, who once again dodged it effortlessly.
I’m nae on me best game. I’m too distracted, and we’re too evenly matched. I need to get it together.
But just as he thought it, visions of ice blue eyes danced before him.
Archer growled, barely allowing Marcus to recover before he threw another punch and then another.
“Why did ye let her leave?” Marcus growled as he ducked and dodged blow after blow. “It’s clear ye dinnae want her to go. So why did ye let her? Why did ye command her to go?”
“Stop speakin’ about things ye daenae understand,” Archer growled.
He jabbed his right fist forward, crossing his body. When Marcus dodged, Archer surprised him with a left hook.
Marcus clearly hadn’t seen that move coming, and it made contact with his face. His man-at-arms staggered back, but he didn’t drop his guard.
“Good hit,” Marcus spat, feeling out his balance once more as he danced onto the tips of his toes. “But that doesnae change the fact that ye seem set to rage at everyone around ye, when the only person that ye have to be mad at is yerself.”
Archer growled low in his throat, the ice-cold anger inside him reaching an all-time high. He wanted to throw another punch, but what would that solve?
Marcus would just dodge it. Or, he wouldn’t, and he’d just taunt Archer again. He didn’t want to hear it, not anymore.
Archer stopped moving, dropping his hands to his side.
“I’m done,” he growled, turning and stalking out of the ring.
The guards crowding around the ring scattered, moving so that he could storm through them.
“Ye ken what I said was right,” Marcus called after him, but Archer just shrugged him off.
He needed to cool down and a little bit of time to himself to think. He’d been out to start training since the moment he’d woken up, and he’d not given himself a moment to stop since.
Archer stormed out of the training courtyard, moving toward the rose gardens and the cliffs that overlooked the sea. With every step, he felt something inside him roiling.
Why did I send her away?
But Archer knew exactly why he’d sent her away. It had been for the best. The best for her. The best for him. The best for the children.
As if his thoughts had conjured them, Archer turned a corner and found the twins sitting on a blanket with the maid, Charlotte. Archer stopped, standing stock still as he took in the scene.
Both of the twins seemed calmer than usual, even Aurora, who was more serious than most. Charlotte was doing her best to try to cheer them up, tittering away about the lovely day they were having or the different types of roses that decorated the edge of the garden. But neither of the twins was having it.
“I want to go back inside,” Louis said, his tone sounding melancholy.
He moved to stand, and the moment he shifted, his eyes fell on Archer. His gaze went wide, and Archer couldn’t help but wonder what he looked like.
Was he covered in dirt? Covered in bruises? Covered in blood?
He thought of the way he had been fighting that morning, and he knew he likely looked deranged in that moment.
“Ye told her to leave,” Louis said, his brows dipping together angrily as he pointed an accusatory finger at his father.
Aurora, alerted by her brother’s words, immediately jumped to her feet. She helped Louis up, while Charlotte stared between all of them with a panicked expression.
Once the twins were both on their feet, they trotted over to Archer, glaring daggers at him. But as they got closer, Archer could see their swollen eyes and the tears that still danced along the edges of them.
“Why did ye tell her to leave?” Aurora demanded, her lower lip shaking as she stared up at him. “What did we do wrong? Why was Emilie nae allowed to stay?”
Archer stared at them, mouth agape.
“What do ye mean what did ye do wrong?” Archer asked, incredulous. “Ye did nothin’ wrong.”
The tears that had been welling in Louis’ eyes finally fell, and immediately following, so did Aurora’s. Before Archer could react or really process what was happening, the twins hurled themselves at his legs.
Their tiny arms gripped him, shaking as they clung to him.
“What did we do?” Aurora wailed, and Archer could feel her tiny body shaking as she grasped at him.
“When can Emilie come back?” Louis chimed.
It was the first time that they had ever hugged him. And Archer stood stock-still, not knowing what to do.
“Ye dinnae do anything wrong,” he repeated, the words sounding hollow as his mind worked to keep up with everything that had happened. “This is somethin’ I did.”
“Why did ye make her leave? Why did ye nae want to be married to her anymore?”
The wails of the children blended together to the point where Archer could no longer tell which one had spoken.
Finally, he crouched down, the twins taking several steps back to account for his large body moving into their space.
Their eyes were red-rimmed, both of them wearing matching expressions of dismay as they stared at him. He sank down to their eye level, holding their gaze.
“I need ye both to listen to me,” he said earnestly.
There was no gruffness or demand in his voice, likely the least stern way he’d ever spoken to them. And yet, the twins seemed enraptured by it, staring at him without the slightest glimpse of fear that so often clouded their faces when he was before them.
“Ye dinnae do anythin’ wrong,” Archer continued. “There was nothin’ that ye could have done, or nothin’ that ye did that would have made Emilie be able to stay. I promise ye that. This is nae somethin’ that ye should blame yourselves for. Do ye hear me?”
Aurora sniffled while Louis swiped a hand over his now ruddy and tear-stained cheeks. Eventually, they nodded.
Hesitantly, Archer reached out and placed a hand on both of their shoulders. Surprisingly, they did not flinch away from his touch.
“Let’s go inside,” he proposed. “We can sit and ye can tell me all about how ye feel. We’ll talk about it. As a family.”
The twins shared a glance, a silent conversation flowing between the two of them.
Archer didn’t move. He didn’t dare hold his breath.
This was the closest to them that he had been since they were born. And now, all of a sudden, he couldn’t quite understand why he’d been so afraid to get close to them.
He wanted them to say yes. He wanted them to go with him into the library and to sit with them.
He wanted to be a father to them, well and truly, for the very first time.
So, when the twins turned back to him and nodded again, something in Archer’s spirit seemed to lift.
He reached forward, grabbing the twins’ hands as they turned and walked toward the library in the castle. Once they were inside, he went to the far corner, the one close to the fireplace, and then he dropped their hands.
Sitting in the chair, Archer prepared himself for them to walk to the settee. He’d imagined them climbing onto it, holding onto each other while they talked about Emilie’s departure.
But what he hadn’t accounted for were the twins stepping toward him, not pausing as they began climbing up into his lap.
Archer straightened, not knowing what to do as the twins situated themselves on his lap.
Aurora and Louis nestled into his chest, one on each leg, and then the sniffles began anew.
“Why did she leave, Faither?” Louis’ voice was small when he spoke, and Archer could hear the sadness leeching into every word.
I did this to them. I gave them a maither for the first time in their young lives, and then I was the one to take that away from them. If I tell them that now, will all of this go away? Will they start lookin’ at me with fear? Or even hatred?
His stomach lurched. For the very first time, he didn’t want them to leave.
Having them there, having his children close to him, it felt like something had been missing for the last six years that finally just clicked into place.
And now that it had, he didn’t think he wanted things to go back to the way they were.
“It’s nay one’s fault,” he murmured, his voice gruff as he tried to speak softly to his children. “Nay one is at fault for Emilie leavin’. I ken it’s hard to believe, but it’s all goin’ to be all right.”
The children tucked into him tighter, and he held them. Archer felt their tiny bodies shaking as he did, and he allowed them to sit there.
He was unsure of how long they cried for. But he held them the entire time.
Slowly, their tears began to slow, and their shaking began to stop. It took a little while longer, and then Archer looked down to realize that both had cried themselves to sleep.
“I’m goin’ to get ye two to bed,” he murmured, gently shifting the children so that he could push himself to standing.
He held a twin on each hip, and then he began to walk.
Archer’s first step would be to tuck them into their beds, allowing the children to sleep off some of their sadness.
And then… then Archer was not entirely sure what he was going to do after that. But as his two children held onto him and slept in his arms for the very first time, Archer knew in his soul that he had to do something.