47. Chapter Forty-Six #2
Chills skittered down my spine, but those were swiftly replaced by the warmth of Archer’s arms around me. I was overly conscious of his chest against my back, the thud of his heartbeat, the planes of his muscles.
Sorry, he sent into my mind, but I don’t want him touching you. His presence alone is already making you uncomfortable, and I hate that you have to bear that.
The remark was so simple, so sincere, it warmed me even as confusion chased it.
If we were going to break our blood bond, shouldn’t Archer have been excited to be rid of me?
I didn’t think so badly of him as to expect him to want me dead, but I wasn’t so delusional as to imagine he cared beyond our reluctantly forged alliance.
Does your father really think that once we break the bond, these guards will be enough to force us back to the capital for my execution?
Father thinks once the bond breaks, your manipulation on me will end and I’ll want to drag you back myself. He can’t comprehend anything else. But once the bond is broken, you’ll be free to go back home, and we’re going to help you escape.
A strange ache settled in my chest at the proclamation. Vithenna had spoken of answers, which gave me hope that I might find a cure for Mama, Brook, Aunt Aurora, and others like Zinnia. But the way Archer said go back home reminded me that I’d be making a permanent return.
How odd that the one thing I’d longed for when first trapped in this bond with Archer now filled me with a sharp pang I didn’t want to consider too deeply.
There was no returning to Rainsong without King Wystan and his ilk killing me, but I hated to think that this meant I’d probably never see Archer, Lily, Owen, Cliff, or Orchid again.
All these new friends I’d made—the unlikely connection I’d forged with the prince—and I’d have to say goodbye forever.
I wouldn’t be helping Emberglade by taking a stand against the revenants any longer.
I’d be restricted once again to my own little town of Everhaven, a place that was once my peace now sounding more like my prison.
After a long pause, Archer spoke into my mind again. Mortius told me something. It turns out, I was wrong about the blood bond. If you were to kill me, you’d die too, just like we thought. But if someone else kills either of us…the bond will break and the other lives on.
There was a long pause as I digested his words.
You could have told your father and let him execute me.
I kept my next thoughts to myself, still trying to sort through the emotions flooding me.
He chose to protect me, when he could have been rid of a hated phoenix shifter that easily.
And yet…that narrative no longer rang true.
I’d seen how Archer interacted with my people in Everhaven.
How he looked at me, treated me. I could feel his emotions.
He didn’t hate me anymore. He didn’t hate any of us.
I’d never do that, Feathers. Though the nickname was teasing, his tone was full of sincerity. Not anymore. You’re safe with me. I promise. Even with my father’s guard dogs breathing down our necks and our magic stifled, I’ll protect you.
Too overcome to respond, I just nodded, accepting this gift from the one person who should have been most motivated to destroy me.
As the carriages rode onward and we suffered the unwanted presence of the king’s guard, a stifling silence settled over our group.
Rain had started to fall in driving sheets, pounding against the roof and cloaking the world outside our window in mistiness that obscured the night.
Owen began using his magic to influence the water around us, frowning in concentration as he worked to push water away from the front of the carriages so Cliff and Clay had a clear view.
“We might have to stop soon.” Lily glanced toward Owen and then out the window again.
“This has the threat of a monsoon written all over it. Even if the roads don’t start flooding, the mud is going to trap us before long.
” She swallowed. “Better to wait it out in Rainsong than be trapped beyond the barrier and…whatever could find us vulnerable out there.”
Archer scrubbed a hand down his face. We’d likely only been on the road for a half hour at most. “We’ll find an inn where we can wait out the rain,” he muttered.
Knocking on the roof, Archer signaled for Cliff to pause.
With Owen directing rain away from the carriage, Archer stepped out to converse in low tones with the driver.
Soon after, he ducked back into the carriage, settling beside me.
“We’re a few minutes away from The Crown and Dagger.
We can stay there for the night and hope the roads are clear enough tomorrow.
Or we can take horses and ride the rest of the journey. ”
I tensed beside him.
What’s wrong? Archer asked in my mind, startling me. I hadn’t realized he was so aware of me that he’d sensed the way my muscles had gone taut.
I can’t ride.
Maybe I’ll have to find a specially made saddle that will fit us both.
My gaze flew to his before I noticed the smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. Heat flooded my cheeks before he nudged me gently. There’s no need to worry. Whatever happens, I’ve got you, Feathers.
I settled against the back of the seat, trying to ignore the searing pain of the shackles at my wrists and the constant, lingering ache that was the void where my well of magic should have been.
Cliff wound his way through an empty street and toward an inn with windows glowing with flickering candlelight, inviting us in from the dark storm.
Palms ringed the courtyard as our jaguars trod across the cobblestones, and I watched the wind sway their fronds wildly.
A heavily cloaked and hooded stable boy came running to help, shouting directions for parking the carriage.
When he spotted the jaguars, he froze, his complexion paling.
Cliff hopped down. “No need to fear Gorgeous, Chase, or Fluffy. Princess can be a little sassy, but she’s a softie too.
If you can guide us to someplace in your stables, I’ll keep them far from the horses and stable hands.
Clay and I can spend the night with them to keep them tame as mice, and they won’t harm a soul, I promise.
” He reached out, petting each of the nearest jaguars indulgently to prove his point.
Biting back my grin, I followed Owen as he shoved open our door, lifting his hand and directing the rain away from us.
Lily, Archer, and I poured out after him, racing toward the inn’s door.
The king’s four guards pressed in close around us, like a living cage hemming us in and watching our every move.
“We’ll see you in the morning, Cliff and Clay!” Lily called over her shoulder.
As we stepped over the inn’s threshold, I found we were all still magically dry thanks to Owen’s efforts.
The interior was comfortable and open, the beat of the rain against the tin roof providing a musical backdrop.
Though the hearths remained unlit due to the sticky heat permeating the air, countless candles adorned the space, maintaining a bright, welcoming atmosphere.
Only a handful of people occupied a couple tables, and as soon as they saw their prince, they stood to bow and curtsey.
“No need for all the formality,” he said, waving them off. “Sit and enjoy your meals. We’re only taking shelter to wait out the rain.”
But as we stepped further into the room, the guests started noticing the shackles on my wrists, the clinking of the forget-me-not infused metal like a warning bell telling them all exactly what I was.
Every fearful, hateful glance—every muttered curse—it was a stark reminder that I’d never be welcome here in Rainsong.
“The prince’s demon whore,” someone muttered, loudly enough that Archer heard.
He whirled on the male, pinning him with a deadly stare.
Instantly, the male, who appeared to be half-fae, half-goblin, froze in his seat. His skin had a green tint to it, but when the prince turned on him, it paled to a greyish hue. He licked his needlepoint teeth with a black tongue and blinked too-large eyes.
“What did you say?” Archer’s voice was too calm, too quiet.
I could feel his indignance rippling through our bond.
The part-goblin cleared his throat. “I said, it’s good to see Your Highness and your lovely betrothed.” He stood on shaky knees, dipping into a bow.
Archer tossed him a lazy grin. “That’s what I thought.”
As I inhaled the tantalizing scents of fish stew and fresh bread, my stomach growled embarrassingly loudly.
When Archer turned to me with a dimpled smile, I held my breath, lost in his gaze for a second.
He looked sincere, without a hint of pretense, as he said, “Good thing for you that we don’t have to eat jerky and dried fruit in the carriage tonight.
” He winked. We’ll eat in a room away from all these prying eyes, he reassured me in my mind.
Feeling a little light-headed—and I didn’t think it was from the forget-me-nots or my hunger—I shattered the moment by turning away.
It’s all an act, I thought to myself. He doesn’t have feelings for someone he would have killed when he first met. And you certainly can’t have feelings for him.
So why wasn’t that argument fully convincing anymore? Why did I sense a softening in the prince’s manners? Why did it seem like the emotions filling our bond were anything but hostile and angry?
The door to our room clicked shut with a note of finality, making a weight settle over me.
When the guards had tried to demand they stay in a room with “the prisoner” to watch me, Archer had made it clear that only he would be staying with me.
The guards had agreed, only if they were in the room next door and I remained in shackles, since they were keeping my key.