Chapter 11
“They will riot,” said Keir.
“Let them,” said Archer.
“Archer,” Keir said in a stern tone. “They will riot.”
The courtyard was filled with noise from the servants and the few visiting merchants who had come to the walls, and yet Archer and Keir spoke in low voices, heads close together, so that no one else would hear. Keir was right; there would be a lot of resistance, but the plan was solid.
It was more than solid, in fact; it was the kind of plan that they should have implemented a long time ago.
“Keir, the people will starve if we daenae do this,” said Archer. “If the landlords have a problem with me policies, they can come and complain to me.”
“They will,” Keir said. “They most certainly will.”
Of course they will. One can be popular with the people or one can be popular with the wealthy, but nae with both.
And Archer preferred to be popular with his people.
“The plan is good,” Archer insisted. “We shall create a central granary for all the landlords to contribute. They willnae have to donate that much grain if it’s all of them.”
“They daenae wish to donate any grain,” Keir pointed out.
“If we must, we will lower their taxes,” said Archer. “But only if we must. Either way, the most important thing right now is to prevent a famine. Ye heard the men...there isnae enough grain.”
Keir remained silent for a long while—a sign that he agreed with Archer, no matter how reluctantly.
They both knew the importance of keeping the people fed, despite the pushback they would receive from the wealthier men.
And yet, they both knew the importance of keeping the wealthier men happy, too.
“This wasnae discussed in the last council,” Keir pointed out as they walked past the front gates of the curtain walls. Archer tilted his head in greeting to the guards who bowed to him, taking note of those who were bright and alert and those who seemed to be there only in body and not in spirit.
“Ye’re right,” said Archer. “It wasnae.”
“Shall I inform the council, then?”
“Aye,” said Archer. “And tell them it was their lady’s idea.”
Keir stopped short, but Archer continued walking, paying him no mind. After a few moments, Keir caught up with him again, and Archer pretended not to see the frown on his face.
“Was it?” asked Keir.
“Och aye,” said Archer. “She heard the people’s complaints and she found a solution. As is her right.”
Keir grumbled something under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like I suppose it is a good idea, and Archer couldn’t help but snort in amusement.
“It isnae like ye to admit that,” he said.
“I can admit when somethin’ is smart,” Keir shot back.
“But nay when it comes to me wife,” Archer pointed out. “Why is that?”
Keir hesitated. It was a question Archer had asked him before, and one Keir had avoided. This time, though, it seemed to Archer like he would actually give him a real answer.
“If ye remembered some things about yer past, ye wouldnae be so certain of her either.”
It wasn’t an answer, not really, but it was more than Keir had given him before.
“How about ye tell me what it is that I should remember?”
“There is...too much,” Keir said. “And ye already ken most of it. There is naethin’ I can tell ye now that will change yer mind about all this.”
“About all what?”
“About the attack,” said Keir. “That ye think was an accident.”
“Keir...there is naethin’ to suggest it wasnae an accident,” Archer insisted, not for the first time. “I may nae remember but I’m nae suddenly a fool. If I sensed any danger, I would agree with ye, but I daenae see how it could have been anythin’ but an accident.”
“If ye remembered—”
“But I daenae remember!” Archer growled, and then looked around him to see if anyone had heard. He had forgotten himself; he had forgotten that they were in the middle of the courtyard, where anyone could hear them. He lowered his voice and tried again. “I daenae remember, though, Keir.”
Nothing frustrated him more than the fact that he couldn’t remember a single thing after a certain point in his life.
No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he wrung his brain, not a single memory returned to him.
How was he supposed to know who to trust, other than Keir?
How was he supposed to be the Laird of this clan when he remembered so little of his life?
“I ken that,” said Keir, pulling Archer into a halt with a hand on his shoulder. “I ken that. Ye will remember, Archer. Daenae fash.”
“How? How will I remember? Shouldnae me memory have returned by now?”
“Jenson said there may be a way to help ye,” said Keir. “He would tell ye himself but I may as well tell ye now. He said it may help if ye visit places from yer past. Places that were important to ye.”
“And what would those places be?” Archer asked, fed up with himself and his lack of memory. “I daenae remember any of them.”
“I do,” said Keir with a small shrug. “How about...how about the loch where we used to go when we were bairns?”
Archer hummed softly, scratching the back of his head. “I suppose we could do that,” he said. He didn’t know how much that could possibly help, but he was willing to try if it meant that he might remember something.
“Alright,” he agreed in the end. He had nothing to lose, after all.
Laughter like a ringing bell caught Archer’s attention, and he turned his head to see River with her new maid and the children, the four of them running around near the gardens under the careful watch of her personal guard.
His mouth twisted into a grimace of distaste—Finlay had managed to establish himself as a nuisance in the short time Archer had known him—or rather remembered him.
He seemed to be there all the time, never once letting River out of his sight.
How was Archer supposed to find her alone?
The only time they could be together, with no one else to interrupt them or to listen in to them was when they were in her chambers at night.
Even then, he had the sneaking suspicion that Finlay was somewhere nearby, trying to listen in, trying to keep an eye on her as if he feared Archer would harm her.
Turning on his heel, Archer began to approach them, Keir hot on his heels.
“Are we goin’ now?” he asked, the excitement in his voice barely concealed—until he realized where he was going. “Archer!”
“One moment,” said Archer, holding up a finger, before he turned to River.
When she noticed him, she came to a sudden halt, and then her maid and the children followed her, falling silent behind her.
He couldn’t help but feel like the monster everyone feared, and he wasn’t sure what to do about that.
“Good mornin’,” said River with a small, bemused smile.
“Good mornin’,” he echoed, and then nodded to the maid and the children behind her in greeting. “Keir and I were just talkin’ about how entertainin’ yer game looks.”
“Nay, we werenae,” said Keir flatly, only for Archer to shoot him a glare.
“Aye, we were,” he insisted. “And we would like to be included.”
“What?” exclaimed Keir.
“What?” mumbled the maid.
Still, Archer only had eyes for River, whose confused frown only deepened.
“I...of course, if ye’d like,” she said in the end, a little hesitantly.
“Excellent!” cried Archer, clapping his hands together in excitement. “What shall we do?”
“Uh...well,” said River, glancing nervously behind her. “It’s tig. So Colby is chasin’ us and when he touches one of us, we start to chase the others.”
“Aye, I ken what tig is,” said Archer, a little amused. “Believe it or nae, I used to be a bairn once, too.”
That earned him a giggle from the children, something he counted as a big victory. They didn’t move from their spot behind River, though, as if they were using her as a shield, trying to hide behind her.
“Well, then...if ye ken what it is, ye may as well start chasin’,” River said, and then sprinted away from him. Arya and Colby squealed, running after her, and after a few moments, the maid—Layla, Archer reminded himself—started running, too.
The only one who remained motionless was Keir, and Archer wasted no time before he tagged him, slapping his arm and running away.
“Seriously?” Keir asked with an exasperated sigh. For a few moments, he stood there, watching the others as they ran away.
“It’s yer turn!” Archer called to him, glancing at him behind his shoulder. “Go on, then! Daenae just stand there!”
With a huff, Keir began to chase them, albeit reluctantly.
He was half-running, half-walking as he tried to catch someone—anyone—so that he wouldn’t have to work too hard or chase them for too long.
In the end, with his large stride, he managed to catch Colby, tagging him—and then was forced to run away so that he wouldn’t have to chase everyone else again.
Archer paid him little mind, though. As he ran around, trying to avoid being caught, his gaze always found River, wherever she was.
He was chasing her more than he was playing the game, trying to find a chance to touch her—and he did, when they almost collided as they tried to avoid Colby.
Archer’s hands shot out, grabbing her by the waist and spinning her around so that they wouldn’t fall on each other, his touch lingering for far longer than necessary.
Finlay’s gaze was so persistent, he could feel it like a burning flame on the back of his neck.
Archer’s gaze met River’s and everything around him seemed to slow down, the game fading in the back of his mind.
He could feel the heat of her body even through her dress, he could see that pretty flush on her cheeks, he could hear her soft panting through those rosy lips that he so craved to kiss.
It took all his self-control to stop himself from kissing her right then and there.
It wouldn’t be so odd—she was his wife, after all—but he was fairly certain she wouldn’t appreciate such a gesture in the middle of the courtyard.
But the way she looked at him, with those blue eyes, lit a fire in his chest that he couldn’t extinguish.
And then, as he stood there, gazing into River’s eyes, Colby tagged him and River ran away from him with a sound caught between a shriek and a laugh.
With a groan, Archer began to chase after anyone in his way.
First, he went after Keir, but the man was quick to get out of reach.
He ran just enough to escape him and then sat back with a sigh, as if the game was a chore to him, so Archer changed tactics and went after the closest target—Arya.
Naturally, she was slower than Keir, her shorter stature making it difficult for her to increase the distance, but just as Archer was about to catch her, River appeared seemingly out of nowhere, putting herself like a shield between them.
Once more, she and Archer almost collided, and she laughed as she brushed just past him, twirling around to avoid him when he reached out for her. Laughter bubbled out of him as she ran past, and Archer changed his target, going after her instead.
It was hardly a race. Archer caught up to her quickly, grabbing her by the waist once more and pulling her close.
River cried out, surprised, as her back collided with his chest, then turned around in his arms so that they were facing each other.
She was panting against him, trying to catch her breath, and the more Archer looked at her, the faster his heart beat, until it was trying to force its way out of his chest.
Just as he was about to pull her even closer, River’s eyes narrowed into a glare and she pulled back from him, disentangling herself from his arms. For a brief moment, she looked around as if to see if anyone was watching, but Archer knew no one was; no one but Finlay, who was glaring daggers at him.
And Archer didn’t appreciate that look at all.
“I think...I think it is time for us to go inside,” said River with a nervous gesture of fixing her hair. “We’ve been playin’ for long and it’s too hot for the bairns.”
“We’re fine!” Arya called.
“Nay, ye’re nae!” said River over her shoulder, before turning back to Archer. “We’ve played enough.”
“Aye, so ye have,” called Finlay from his spot near the wall.
Archer didn’t even try to resist the urge to glare at him.
The two men stared at each other in silence, like two bulls circling around each other, until once again, River stepped between them and broke their line of sight.
Archer’s gaze focused back on her, taking in the firm line of her lips, the slight frown between her brows, and he couldn’t help it; he stepped closer, planting a kiss to her cheek, as close to her lips as he could without actually kissing them.
When he pulled back from her, he found her red-faced, her mouth hanging slightly open in shock, as if that had been the last thing she had expected.
“I shall come to ye tonight,” he promised her. “Wait for me.”
Then, he turned on his heel and walked away, without turning around to see if she was watching.
He was certain she was.