Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ARCHER
“Watch out for the ledge here.” I duck my neck forward to avoid bumping into the thick wooden beam myself. “Just here.”
Ella, who is probably a few inches shorter, deftly avoids the hazard with a graceful little step. I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed that she doesn’t need my help.
“Are there more stairs after this?” she asks.
“Maybe one more flight.” I mentally recalculate which chambers will be most relevant to our tour.
I’m usually good with memorizing details.
But my mind has somehow gone scrambled ever since I saw Ella this morning, her sweet smile topping off her pretty little outfit.
I like a good, regal evening gown look as much as the next royal, but there’s something special about getting to see the same girl in both formal and casual wear.
It implies friendship. It implies actually knowing the person rather than being forced to interact under artificial circumstances.
And if all goes to plan, I will hopefully be seeing a lot more of Ella even after the Carvarell Games.
“It gets cold down here.” Ella’s voice floats over my head from behind me.
“It can be.”
“I can’t believe this is almost summer.”
“More spring than summer. But there is a reason Sir Gerald was widely heralded for his invention.”
“So it’s true? That my ancestors invented some kind of heating system?”
“Of course.” I turn around to point out another tricky step to her before we reach another landing. “We don’t give out knighthoods for nothing.”
Ella laughs. Her laughter is soft and sweet, not at all like Alya’s chortling. “I suppose that is a pretty genteel way to earn a knighthood. I should be happy it wasn’t for beheading an enemy or something.”
“Northandria is lucky to have enjoyed a relatively peaceful history.”
“And long may it be so.”
I turn around, a smile tugging at my lips. “You talk like a history book.”
Her smile turns sheepish. “Isn’t that how we’re all supposed to talk to royals?”
“I hope not.” I feel an internal shudder. “Although my mother might prefer it.”
We share a chuckle, and it’s a more novel experience than I expected it to be. A few steps later, we finally reach the cellar floor.
“This way.” I step through the large stone archway. Ella follows. “We’ve had modern lamps installed in the main hallway, but most of the rooms are still dark without a torch. The floor can also be a bit uneven.”
“It’s beautiful,” she says behind me, the awe obvious in her voice. “And sort of really, really cold.”
“Are you feeling chilly?” I turn around and walk backwards. “I should have expected that. But I can ask Sven to get us—ooh!”
My right foot lands on a chipped step behind me, and I momentarily lose my balance.
“Archer.” Ella reaches out, hands curling around my left arm. I instinctively pull towards her to avoid tripping further out. But instead of regaining my balance, I topple into her instead.
My body crashes against hers, sending us both hurtling towards the stone wall.
I extend my arms out as fast as I can to avoid crushing her entirely.
My right hand lands on the cold stone just in time to avoid flattening her, but my left arm stays entangled with hers and shoves the other half of us together much closer than expected.
Our faces stop inches from each other, my nose nearly bumping off her glasses from hers.
I catch my breath.
By the look in her eyes, I’m not sure she’s breathing either.
My heartbeat ricochets off the walls of the ancient cellar around us. If it were any colder, I’m pretty sure my breath would be forming little blurry snowflakes on the lens of her glasses.
I swallow.
I don’t move. She doesn’t move.
“Ella,” I whisper.
“Archer,” she whispers back.
Archer. Just Archer. Not prince, not Your Highness. Not the future of Northandria or the heir to the Sapphire Throne.
And away from the prying eyes of all the smartphone cameras in the world, I press my lips to hers.
She catches my kiss, her lips pillow soft. I don’t ravish her. That’s not what I brought her here to do. But I do kiss her firmly, sincerely. I don’t like hesitation in most things in life, and I most certainly don’t like it in romance.
Ella reciprocates, the tenderness and chemistry crystal clear between us. When I shift, so does she. It’s not a hungry kiss. I’m too gentlemanly for that. But it’s a sweet kiss, a promising kiss.
“Ella,” I whisper when I pull back, just the tiniest of inches. There’s a blush on her cheeks, and I’m tempted to kiss her there as well. “I didn’t bring you down here to do this, but I do hope that—”
“Your Highness! Your Highness!” Frantic steps accompany the echo of Sven’s voice. I step back from the wall, from Ella.
I’d told him not to disturb me today. And given the relatively light schedule of the Games today, there can’t possibly be any reason for a man as experienced as Sven to act like this is an emergency.
I frown as I turn sideways towards the growing sound of his approach.
“Your Highness!”
“Sven, this can’t possibly be—”
He stumbles into the cellar, unusually caught off guard by the uneven stone floor.
He takes a total of two seconds to straighten. “Your Highness.”
“Yes?” I don’t bother to hide my annoyance.
His eyes flick momentarily to Ella before they return to me. “Code Red.”
My frown deepens. “We are not a hospital.”
“No, sir, but it’s—urgent.”
The prince in me takes over the interrupted suitor for a moment. “Is it Mother?”
“No, sir.”
“The Games? A bomb threat?”
“No, sir.”
Ella’s fingers brush my sleeve. “It’s alright if I need to step aside for a moment.”
“No, I trust you.” I surprise myself with how easily that statement comes. “And anything truly confidential goes to the Queen, not me. Sven, what is it?”
He visibly hesitates for another few seconds. Then the words tumble out. “They’ve found Princess Kya. They’re all waiting in the Blue Room.”
My throat tightens, and not in the sentimental way. “And who constitutes ‘all?’”
“Princess Kya, Queen Merinda—and the King of Drenland.”