25. Archer
Archer
“Grayson, meet my brother, Daemos.” I introduce the pair against all my better judgment and twitch as he offers a hand to Saige, his rings gleaming in the morning light. “It was Daemos who was following us. His magical signature in the compound.”
“At your service, lovely mortal,” Daemos says with a flourish. It’s a record, even by his standards. Not five seconds in her presence passed and he’s managed to get my hackles up again, irritation prickling at me like a stinging nettle.
I bat his hand away before Saige can shake it. “Ignore him,” I tell her. “That’s what everyone else does.”
Saige laughs. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Finally, someone with some sense about them,” Daemos quips, flashing her a dangerous grin. “I’m surprised you haven’t gone running for the hills yet, Grayson,” my brother says smoothly.
“It’s crossed my mind once or twice,” she replies, smiling broadly.
I hate that she’s smiling so openly at him, but then… that’s Saige.
Daemos turns his sights on the hulking mass of canine lolloping towards us. “And who is this majestic creature?”
I tip my head to the canopy. “Triad save me.”
“That’s Grim, he’s part of the family,” Saige explains, as Daemos—the kiss-ass—drops to his knees and showers the beast with belly rubs and ear scratches.
“Pleasure to meet you, Grim,” Daemos says.
I glare at the dog, muttering, “Fucking traitor.”
“Jealous?” Saige whispers at my side.
“Hardly.”
A gentle gust of wind dances through the air, catching the end of Saige’s braid.
“Cut it out, Daemos,” I snap, my gaze shooting to my brother who’s watching us with far too much interest.
Frowning, Saige looks from me to him. “That was you? You can manipulate the wind?”
He has the audacity to fucking grin at her. “Air, to be more specific.”
“So that means you’re from the House of…” She glances at me, the crease deepening between her brows. “Whispers? Then how is Archer from the House of Desires?”
I feel my brother’s eyes on me, his initial curiosity dwarfed by understanding. “Not all Azkari families have the same elemental magic, we don’t all end up in the same houses,” he tells her. Another breeze swirls around us, taking the loose leaves from the ground, creating spiraling patterns.
“That’s beautiful,” Saige murmurs.
And I see red.
I stalk towards my brother. “Stop doing that.” I demand.
“It’s only a bit of fun,” he says lightly, a glint to his eyes. “Come on. I’m just playing.”
I trip him and he stumbles across the forest floor. “How’s that for playing?”
“That’s right, Archie, deflect away.” Daemos dusts off his coat, nonchalant.
A surprised laugh sounds beside me and Saige’s eyes are wide as they rake over me with glee. “Archie?”
“Don’t even think about it,” I growl at her.
But of course, the young bookbinder isn’t fazed in the slightest. She never is, no matter how much I try to push her away for her own good.
I turn to my brother. “As magical as this catch-up was, we need to get moving. Perhaps I’ll see you in another two hundred years for dinner?”
Daemos chuckles as he strides towards Saige’s horse and starts to saddle her mare. “I already told you, I’m coming along. You need my help.”
“The fuck you are. And the fuck I don’t.”
He ignores this. “The two of us sharing a saddle would be a bit much for this poor beast,” he says, pretending to mull things over. He fits his boot to the stirrup and swings himself up onto the mare’s back, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he waits expectantly. “Perhaps Grayson could ride with me?”
My brother is enjoying this—her—too much.
And I’m the fool taking the bait. I take a breath, trying to let go of the tension that has my shoulders up around my ears and my jaw clenched, reminding myself that this is Daemos, not the life and death situations of Gravereach, not the one of the battles in the war.
“She could,” I allow as I start to saddle my own stallion. “But we need her alive to restore the Confluence. If you ride as badly as you did when we were growing up, there’s no chance of that.”
Daemos barks a laugh. “There you are, Archie.”
“Do I not get a choice in this?” Saige demands, hands on hips, her eyes narrowing as they flick from Daemos to me.
When I’m done with my tack, I lead my horse to her and place my hands around her waist, letting her warmth soak into my palms, her scent wrapping around me. “Don’t play coy now, bookbinder. You were in my arms this morning.”
A slow smile spreads across her face, her silver gaze sparkling in the morning light. “I think you’re flirting with me again, General.”
I lift her up into the saddle and swing myself up behind her, my body flush against hers as I murmur into the shell of her ear, “So what if I am?”
“Well, my legs aren’t up around my head,” she replies, amusement lacing her words, the image blooming vividly in my mind.
I take the reins in my hands in front of her, resting my arms across her thighs as we start forward. A starving creature I thought long dead within me opens a sleepy eye, and the words leave my lips before I can think, “Not yet.”
“I don’t believe you!” Saige’s laughter vibrates through me as she shakes her head at Daemos in disbelief. “He did not do that!”
I’m going to kill my brother. I’m going to drag him from his horse and throttle him.
“Archie absolutely did!” he replies with a grin. “He was an absolute rogue, leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake. Those triplets never recovered.”
“Daemos,” I warn, but the bastard pays me no heed.
“So that’s what he was like before the war.” Saige’s voice is full of wonder, and she twists in the saddle to get a glimpse at my stony expression. I inhale sharply as the movement rubs her ample ass against my cock.
“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” I tell her. “He spent that entire decade ale-shot at the top of a mountain.”
“That was before I discovered the poppy plant,” my brother says fondly. “Besides, I was simply taking in the sights, reflecting on the ways of the world.”
“For ten years?” I shoot back.
“I was a dreamer back then.”
I scoff. “You were stoned.”
“That too,” Daemos concedes. “But we weren’t talking about me. Saige asked what you were like before the war. So I was giving her a brief summary.”
“Brief my ass. You’ve been talking for an hour.”
Daemos shrugs. “There’s a lot of ground to cover, and the day is young.”
“Triad save us,” I mutter, combing my mind for an appropriate change of subject. “How’s Junior?”
“Well, he still hates it when he’s called that, for one,” Daemos replies with a roguish grin.
“So, he hasn’t changed,” I scoff.
“Not a bit. If anything he’s regressed without your wisdom and guidance, Archie.”
“Fuck off.”
“Who’s Junior?” Saige asks, twisting in the saddle. Gods, I wish she wouldn’t do that. The friction is enough to empty all the thoughts from my head.
“Our younger brother,” Daemos answers before addressing me again. “Do you remember that particularly rambunctious name day celebration held in the Salt Flats? We used the salt to season the rims of the glasses, and everyone ended up hallucinating?”
I track his expressions and gestures for some sign of falsehood, but Daemos’ eyes are bright and earnest. “Sure,” I say, without any recollection of the memory whatsoever.
Not for the first time, I worry that all that time on the tables in Gravereach has fractured my mind, that I do not have the all the pieces of myself anymore.
Unaware, Daemos beams at Saige. “Now that was Archie in his true form. A rogue, a rebel spirit, full of passion and big ideas that landed him in trouble again and again. What a time to be alive.”
“Are you done?” I growl.
Saige’s hand squeezes my knee, the gesture so casual and yet so intimate. “I like hearing about what you were like.”
“That’s not who I am anymore,” I murmur.
“No,” she agrees, her small hand still on my knee. “But he’s a part of you still, and I like to see the whole picture.”
For a moment, I savor the feel of her in my arms, the perfect fit of her body against mine in the saddle, taking what’s not mine to take.
I’m too broken for the likes of her, with nothing left to give but vengeance and bitterness.
There are so many reasons why we shouldn’t be together.
I thought I could handle the flirting, the banter, that it would be enough to quell that need for connection inside me.
But it’s not, I realize. It’s not even close to enough, not when it comes to her.
“We’re entering what’s called the Eldergrove now,” I explain, turning our mount onto a new path, and following a worn stone tread that’s slick with dew despite the sun being high and the shafts of light penetrating the canopy.
Elegant ferns growing either side of us, nature carpets the ground from all manner of directions, and as we make our way deeper into the forest, I can hear springs bubbling up through cracks in forgotten fountains.
Saige’s voice is filled with awe, “It’s beautiful.”
“And deadly,” I reply, guiding the horse around a snapping lily.
Saige grabs my hand in fright, and then instantly removes her grip when we pass the predatory plant.
“How is it that you came to be a bookbinder?” Daemos asks Saige, much to my dismay. “Did you always want to be one?”
“I don’t think I ever really wanted to be anything.
Yevna, Raven—my family—and I were just trying to survive.
I got into binding because Leo needed an apprentice, and Yevna knew Leo.
So it was a happy accident that I fell in love with the discipline.
I saw how enraptured Leo was by the whole process, that he saw it not only as a job, but as a role of guardianship.
Bookbinders serve to protect and preserve a title’s contents, guaranteeing its access for generations of readers.
I like to think I’m doing something along those lines. ”
“Interesting,” Daemos replies. “Tell me more about this family then. Are they back home missing you? Perhaps comforting a jealous husband or lover?”