Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
IRIS
A few days later, when the weekend rolled back around, I was back in Stonewall.
Archer didn’t need to convince me to sneak off campus with him again – I wanted to.
We needed more privacy… the kind that his classroom, or his office, couldn’t offer us, and it was risky to sneak to the greenhouse too frequently.
We visited The Sleeping Fox again. It was a busy night, with a band playing in the corner – three men, one on a guitar, one with a fiddle, and the last with a drum. All three were singing, their voices interlocking in such a beautiful way. The whole Inn had such a warm atmosphere.
I met more of Archer’s acquaintances, and I really enjoyed the way he acted with them. He was relaxed, carefree and… so happy.
I loved it here. I loved the way Archer and his friends' laughter bounced around the room, effortless and easy, as if the world outside didn’t exist. I loved watching him smile, and the way it lit up his entire face. I loved being away from Ashcroft, I loved getting to know new people…
And I loved…
I shook my head. The thought rose rapidly and it made my chest ache in a way I didn’t understand.
I could feel it everywhere. I looked over to where he stood at the bar, his tall form towering over everyone else.
His hair wasn’t styled, and it fell into his face.
He’d unbuttoned the top of his shirt and rolled his sleeves up, revealing the tanned skin and muscular arms beneath.
He’d left me chatting with one of his friends at our table while he got more drinks but he’d clearly bumped into yet another person he knew.
Not yet, I told myself. I couldn’t feel that way about him yet. It was too soon.
I shook my head again, trying to push the feeling back, trying to ignore the little spark that had maybe been growing for a while now, that was trying to push itself to the surface.
He was talking to a slender, pretty woman.
Her long blonde hair reached her waist and her blue eyes followed his every movement.
She seemed to be quite intrigued in what he had to say.
I saw her reach out a slender hand and rest it against Archer’s arm, but before I had the chance to feel anything about it, his eyes flashed to me.
And he smiled.
I took a slow, shallow breath, aware of the heat rising to my cheeks, aware of the quickening rhythm in my chest. It was terrifying. It was thrilling.
He walked away from the blonde woman without so much as a word, and her outraged face stared after him.
I tried to hide my smirk as he pulled out the chair beside me, passed me my drink, and kissed me deeply.
Morning arrived, and the soft golden light began creeping in through the curtains and settling across the rumpled bed sheets. For a moment, I just lay there, eyes closed, enjoying the feel of Archer’s arm draped over my waist. I turned slightly to stretch.
Behind me, Archer made a quiet sound. His arm tightened instinctively around me, pulling me closer as his face pressed into the space between my shoulder and neck.
‘Don’t,’ he mumbled. His voice was rough with sleep. ‘You’re letting the cold in.’
A soft laugh escaped me. ‘I wasn’t going anywhere, don’t worry.’
Carefully, I turned in his arms so I could face him. His eyes were still closed, his face calm, his hair messy.
‘We need to get up,’ I whispered, kissing his lips lightly.
‘No,’ he said immediately.
I smiled. ‘Yes.’
‘Absolutely not,’ he said, pulling me closer. ‘That sounds like a terrible idea.’ One of his eyes cracked open, squinting against the light. ‘Ugh, the world is so bright.’
‘Yes, and that would be because it’s seven o’clock and we need to get going,’ I laughed. I brushed a piece of hair away from his face. ‘You need to get up and shower.’
He moaned, but eventually he began moving. ‘You cruel woman.’
‘I know,’ I smirked.
Archer kissed my cheek, gently and softly, before climbing out of bed and heading towards the bathroom.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to join me?’ he called over his shoulder.
I smiled, heat rising to my face despite myself.
As much as I was tempted, I needed to gather my thoughts before heading back up to Ashcroft. Mainly, I needed to think about what I was going to tell Adora if she’d started noticing my absence. I really hoped she hadn’t. I hated lying to her.
‘We don’t have time for that level of distraction,’ I said with a wink.
‘You cruel, cruel woman,’ he said again, and then disappeared into the bathroom.
I sat up in bed.
Without Archer in the room, the space felt bigger – empty. I already missed his warmth.
Archer’s house was tidy, but not in a way that suggested he cleaned often; more that he was simply never home long enough to make a mess. The space felt unlived in. Bare. As though he only came back to eat and sleep before leaving again. Yet I felt safe there nonetheless.
Tiptoeing around the room, I began collecting my scattered clothes from the night before – one by one. Somehow my left shoe had ended up under the bed, while a single sock was on the windowsill…
So, it took me a while to get dressed.
Alongside the massive, four-poster bed, and the comfortable leather armchair we liked to fuck the most in, the only other item of furniture was a huge wooden wardrobe with elegantly carved doors. While I was waiting for him to shower, I ran my fingers over the smooth wood, tracing the designs.
I hesitated a moment before opening the wardrobe door a crack.
I wasn’t snooping. Not really. I was just… looking.
It was an ordinary wardrobe – I didn’t really know what I was expecting to find.
Shirts hung in orderly rows, mainly black.
Suit jackets were to the left, some in plain cotton, others in the most exquisite fabrics.
I recognised a few of them – velvet, satin, all in beautiful colours.
I was eyeing a crimson jacket, trailing my fingers over the fine fabric and swirling design, when I noticed a broken panel behind it.
One of the wooden slats in the back of the wardrobe was slightly askew, as if it had popped out of place. I instinctively reached over to push it back in, when I saw a sliver of what looked like parchment, nestled at the base.
I crouched low, legs straining, as I reached forwards. My fingers curled around the parchment – no, parchments – and I pulled them out, standing back up.
I looked at them, eyes widening.
Holding them in my hands, a dread worse than I’d ever felt crept over me.
I froze.
My breath caught in my throat. It felt as though the whole world had been pulled out from under me.
Before I realised what was happening, the pages slipped from my fingers, falling like feathers in slow motion, drifting down until they settled in a scattered mess on the floor. I braced a hand against the wardrobe to steady myself.
I shouldn’t have looked. I shouldn’t have looked at what was on them.
A cold, sinking realisation began to take hold as I stared down at the scattered pages.
The same faces – same research – that had vanished from the library when I’d tried to follow Isobella.
Why the hell did he have these? Why were they hidden?
Questions wracked my brain. The sound of running water was still echoing faintly from the bathroom.
Feeling sick, I sank back down to the floor, not trusting myself standing upright.
Before I could think better of it, I reached back into the wardrobe and began feeling around behind the wooden panel for anything else that might be hidden there.
I closed my eyes as my fingers brushed against something else. It was cool, soft and very large. I closed my fist around it, inhaled a deep, steadying breath, and pulled.
Out came a heavy length of fabric, silky and black, folded tightly around something solid. Quickly unfurling it, I realised it was a cloak of some kind.
And as I understood what I was holding, I had to swallow hard against the shock rising in my throat. The nausea threatening to overcome me.
A silent tear fell from my eye as I looked down, a new grim reality setting in. I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. The Earth stopped spinning.
Staring up at me was a mask.
It was made of dark leather, with two glass eyes and an elongated beak.
The masked men.
Images of that night came flooding back to me. I felt the rain tear at my skin as I ran outside after Isobella, just to see that terrifying figure by the trees. The lightning flashing high above, illuminating the world. Highlighting the long cloak and awful mask.
The weight of my discovery settled, and with it came a sickening certainty.
Archer was not who I thought he was.