33. Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Two
Isoria
Feeling like a shell of myself, I stumbled over the ground, struggling to wipe at the tears that continued to blind me, fresh ones swimming in my eyes as soon as I’d dashed away the previous.
Archer’s jaw worked as he turned back toward the flames licking at the town, some of the buildings already starting to crumble from the sheer heat and power of my phoenix fire.
“Your destructive nature is useful after all, Feathers,” he muttered.
He sounded as exhausted as I felt, but I knew it wasn’t really the same.
If he felt an echo of my weariness through our bond, it was only that.
It wouldn’t be anything like emptying himself of his own magic.
I didn’t want to look back at Duskmarsh, but I felt like the lost fae deserved that, the only funeral and only final respects they’d receive from anyone.
There was no one else left to mourn them, when everyone they knew and loved was also dead.
Chest aching, I turned and lifted my gaze, watching the blue- and white-hot flames dancing beneath the overcast sky, already lightening to a softer shade of grey.
Another tear slid down my cheek, but before I could summon the energy to lift my hand to wipe at it, Archer’s thumb brushed it away.
Breath frozen in my throat, I turned to him.
We shared a glance of confusion before he averted his gaze.
“Come, it’ll take too long for you to walk in your state, and I’m going to have to run to catch up to the carriage. ”
If we could even manage that. My stomach lurched at the thought of being stranded out here with Archer, forced to walk this dangerous terrain alone until we made it back to Rainsong. If we ever did.
Before I could protest, Archer lifted me in his arms, cradling me like an infant.
My face was once again crushed to his chest, forced to inhale that leather and cedar scent that must have been from his preferred soap, but I didn’t have the energy to fight anymore.
I closed my eyes and pretended that instead of being carried by my enemy, I was being embraced by my brother as he tried to comfort me.
A touch of disgust that I thought might not belong to me shivered through my body. It was almost relieving to be reminded that Archer was as appalled by our proximity as I was, that this was a necessary evil to return to the carriage and his friends.
Slowly, I relaxed, descending into darkness.
I woke to the sensation of comforting warmth surrounding me and the world swaying gently.
Inhaling, I breathed in Archer’s scent and opened my eyes to find that he was carrying me again, but this time we weren’t outside or in the carriage.
We were in my room within his quarters, and he was laying me on my bed.
My eyes fluttered as he hovered over me.
Archer’s expression was haunted, his bright green eyes shadowed.
The despair and sorrow filling him struck me like a physical blow, startling me more fully awake.
I blinked and sniffed again, realizing I also detected the sweet, decadent aroma of golden wine.
“What happened?” I managed, voice raspy. I sat up against the pillows. “How did we get back? Is everyone all right?”
“Cliff, the fool, waited for us on the far eastern edge of the Ivorymist. And yes, they’re all tired like you from expending their magic but not badly hurt.
Nothing a bit of rest won’t cure. I had to call a healer for you.
Made up some horrible excuse about a clumsy fall while out drinking.
I’m sure he didn’t believe me, but he knew better than to argue.
If he tends to Father any time soon and thinks about this incident, I suppose he could give away our… excursions outside Rainsong.”
He settled onto the bed, his eyes a bit glazed.
How much had he drunk? And yet, it still hadn’t eased the ache inside him.
It was a yawning chasm that I feared would swallow me whole too.
For a moment, he studied me thoughtfully.
“You truly don’t know who is raising the dead back into these revenant forms, do you? ”
I shook my head, reaching for him almost instinctively, desperate to heal the pain that was leaking into me.
Archer scowled, grasping my hand. For an awkward moment, we froze, his fingers clasped around mine.
Then he pulled away, chuckling. “Don’t bother with me, Feathers.
You’re drained, and any healing is temporary anyway.
I’ll just try to forget for a while.” He lifted a bottle from where it was tucked at the bedside, as if to prove his point.
He must have carried both the bottle and me into the room together.
“I was sure it was your kind creating the revenants, the one the prophecy claims will destroy my family.” He laughed again.
“I thought our blood bond meant you couldn’t harm me, that it could never be you, but maybe I’m wrong.
Maybe it is you who is meant to ruin me. ”
He reached out, lightly tugging on a strand of my hair, the ends gleaming violet and indigo in the firelight.
“I am the architect of my own demise, am I not? I thought I was clever, trapping you when I realized you were a phoenix. But maybe if I’d let you leave immediately, there wouldn’t have been time for our bond to snap in place.
And now it is me. I’m the one who is trapped.
” Disgust and longing shivered through our bond in equal measures, so powerful I swallowed, fearful that I was sensing my own emotions rather than his.
I cleared my throat. “What are you on about?”
Archer leaned closer. “You. You are my ruination.”
For a moment, fear flooded me, turning my body cold and then hot. He knows I’m the phoenix from the prophecy. Another moment passed, and I forced myself to calm. It doesn’t matter. He can’t hurt me without hurting himself.
When I lifted my gaze back to his, his eyes glittered mischievously, as if he were sharing a secret. He hadn’t been referring to the prophecy that bound us both. Instead, his eyes flitted to my lips, and I understood he’d meant something very different.
Archer shifted nearer. I held my breath.
For a terrible moment, I wanted to kiss him.
To torment him and mock him for the desire he feels and does not want to feel, I told myself, but I feared it wasn’t only that.
I was starting to understand him and his doomed mission to save his people.
He cared—deeply. Even the executions of my people that he carried out…
he did not enjoy them. Maybe even carried guilt over them.
That doesn’t change the fact that he’s a killer.
The thought woke me up, and I shoved backward, freeing my hair from his grasp.
Freeing myself from whatever odd influence he had over me in this vulnerable moment, when I was tired and our shared emotions were heavy, connecting us in a way that made it easy to confuse the accursed effects of our bond as something intimate.
Archer laughed, as if it had all been a jest. My cheeks heated.
“Did you think I’d kiss you without a reason to pretend?” His lips quirked.
“Did you think I’d let you without a reason to pretend?” I retorted. “I think you’re drunk and looking for a distraction.”
His gaze skated over me, and for an instant, he seemed shockingly sober.
“As far as distractions go, I’ve had worse.
” He stood, swishing the wine in its bottle and grinning devilishly.
“Sleep well, my bride. There are preparations to be made for my birthday feast, and there’s an invitation from my sister on your vanity, since she’s eager to get to know you.
” He hesitated. “And Father told me we have to announce a wedding date on my birthday.”
Dread sank my stomach like a stone. What if I couldn’t find a way to break the bond before we were tied together in marriage? The thought was terrifying.
But I was too exhausted for that to keep me awake. As Archer sauntered from my room, I slipped beneath the covers, shoved my concerns to the back of my mind, and let sleep take me.
The almost-kiss continued to haunt me as I reluctantly followed Princess Briar into the carriage she’d ordered to take us into the city proper late the following morning.
What had Archer been thinking? What had I been thinking?
Worse, why did my heart still skip—in a not entirely unpleasant way—when I considered how differently things would have gone if I’d let him?
It would have been a distraction for us both, a way to block out the pain we’d endured that night.
And maybe it would have been enjoyable enough for me to make my revulsion of who he was worth it, for he was undoubtedly handsome, he’d already proven to be a decent kisser, and—best of all—it would have given me something to taunt him with today. If he had remembered it.
Stop thinking about it! I reprimanded myself. Surely Archer didn’t waste this much energy on thoughts of me. Even hating him felt like letting him occupy more space in my head than he deserved.
Plus, I didn’t want to let my thoughts stray to what could happen as far as distractions went if Archer and I had to get married.
Maybe, trapped together with no one else but one another to understand our plight, we’d be desperate enough to grow accustomed to such…
distractions. And that sounded utterly terrifying.
I’ve had worse. The memory of Archer’s words and wicked smile as his eyes had swept over my prone form swept through me.
Mortified, I focused on climbing into the carriage and trying not to slouch in the seat out of exhaustion. Unlike Cliff’s carriage, this was a normal one drawn by horses. After growing accustomed to the extra speed of the jaguars, the pace felt wrong.