47. Chapter Forty-Six #3
Though Archer and I had shared his quarters for a while now, those were expansive, giving us plenty of opportunities to avoid one another for days on end. This room, unfortunately, was smaller than mine at the castle, and the lone bed wouldn’t allow for much space between us either.
There was a beat of hesitation as Archer scanned the room with me. “I can sleep on the chair or the floor,” he offered, tugging at his collar.
Something about the serious set of his mouth and the total lack of teasing made me more uneasy than if he’d tried to get a rise out of me.
I laughed, but it sounded false and hollow in my ears. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re just sleeping, and we both need to rest well for whatever comes next.”
Archer didn’t answer, stalking further into the room as he pulled off his jacket and tossed it onto the only armchair in the room, by an unlit hearth. “I need some fresh air.”
It was rather humid. He cracked open the window, allowing some of the misty air to seep in, though it wasn’t much cooler than the air inside.
Setting his hands on the sill, he leaned forward until his forehead pressed against the glass and gulped in the stormy breeze. New emotions—ones that weren’t my own discomfort but much stronger—traveled through our bond. Worry. Guilt. Uncertainty. Panic.
“Archer?” I stepped toward him hesitantly. “Are you…panicking?”
Archer’s feelings were so strong, my own heart galloped in my chest until my lungs felt restricted. Approaching him with all the caution of nearing a cornered animal, I laid a tender hand on his shoulder. My shackles clinked, and something stirred in that chasm in my chest.
“There was a way…a way I helped you with this before, wasn’t there?” I whispered.
Archer offered me a sad smile. “Being a phoenix shifter gave you the ability to heal physical, mental, and emotional ailments. You were able to alleviate this curse for me, temporarily.”
“Can I help you now? Breathe with me.” I took a deep breath, trying to exaggerate the movements.
Archer’s grip on the windowsill slowly relaxed, his breathing evening out as he copied me.
His eyes dragged to my lips, watching my mouth as I inhaled and exhaled.
My pulse ratcheted in response, and I had to avert my eyes to calm myself again, forcing that calm through our bond in hopes that my emotions would influence his.
Archer turned to me, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a familiar half-smirk. “Well, after all those exhausting emotions, we should both sleep deeply enough that we’ll barely notice we’re next to one another.”
His gaze fell to my shackles, anger and sorrow tugging in equal measures through the bond. “Confound my father and these guards. You shouldn’t be forced to sleep in those. That’s agony.”
“You can feel it too,” I murmured.
His throat worked as he swallowed, studying me carefully. “It’s not as intense. Your skin is blistering; your pain is constant. I feel the loss of my magic and an echo of your pain, but it’s not the same.”
I sighed. “I’ll be all right.” I reached for the bag Lily had packed for me, one she’d grabbed from the carriage on our way inside.
My wrists might have been chained together, but I could still move freely enough to carry my bag to the adjoining washroom to change into a nightgown. Anything to be more comfortable.
Until I stopped, remembering that there was no way I’d ever be able to undo the laces of my corset when I couldn’t fully lift my hands. “Solea’s breath,” I cursed.
“Are you all right back there?” Archer asked, a hint of worry in his voice.
I swallowed, squeezing my eyes shut in frustration. “I, uh…I can’t unlace my corset.”
There was a beat of silence in which I wondered if Archer had heard me.
“You need me to undress you?” He forced a laugh, but it had none of his usual humor to it. An odd reflection of when we’d first met and he’d flirted with me, asking if I was eager to undress him. The nerves coming through our bond were so palpable, I feared that he’d lose himself to panic again.
“I need you to unlace my corset. It’s not the same thing,” I said hurriedly, despite the heat rushing to my cheeks.
I was thankful I wouldn’t have to face him, that he couldn’t see me now.
But he could feel my discomfort, the undercurrent of nerves coursing through my entire being at the thought of him touching me.
And yet, we’d already kissed, many times. He’d held me in his arms while we danced. He’d cradled me to his chest as he’d carried me from Duskmarsh after my phoenix flames had burned it to ash. I knew the taste of his lips, the feel of his skin, the sound of his heartbeat.
But so much had been for show, or out of necessity.
Everything had shifted somehow, and now he wasn’t just my enemy, the wretched prince I’d only heard about.
Now I knew the male behind the title he carried, behind the cruel acts.
I sensed his pain like my own. He had dreams, likes and dislikes, and fears.
And that was utterly terrifying, for he was still my enemy.
Our futures had been bound together, our lives forever entangled, but now I feared my emotions were involved too.
That ache had not vanished, and now it was accompanied by ridiculous fantasies.
The thought of taking him into my arms and tasting his lips again, slowly, languidly, for nothing but the sheer pleasure of it.
The daydream of him declaring feelings for me.
It was wild. Impossible.
My pulse sped up anyway at the sound of his footsteps as he entered the room.
I could sense the heat of his body, hear his labored breaths as he reacted to our proximity with both fear and a longing ache that matched my own.
The emotions flooding our bond were strong, but still snarled enough that I could tell myself they were nothing except our mutual desire and animosity.
The emotion that felt dangerously like love…that had to be wrong. And what I sensed from him couldn’t be the same. I was confusing our shared bond and forced intimacy for something it was not. Feeling each other’s emotions made us seem close, but that wasn’t the same as love.
I turned, swallowing thickly. This corset had laces in the front, which made everything feel all the more intimate. I couldn’t so easily look away and pretend to ignore him when I had to face him.
Archer’s eyes were dark as his gaze swept downward toward the laces running down my torso, all the way to my waist.
Dropping my gaze shyly to the floor, I held my own breath as Archer stepped closer and worked at tugging the laces free, slowly loosening my corset bit by bit.
His fingers brushed against my tunic occasionally, and I could feel the heat of each touch like a searing brand against the skin of my stomach.
Once, I dared to glance up, seeing the concentrated look on his face.
He lifted his gaze, letting it snag on mine, a crooked grin on his lips that didn’t bely the nerves I could feel through our bond.
Heat stained my cheeks, and I averted my eyes again.
As Archer unfastened the corset fully, he let it fall with a muted thud against the floorboards. I stood there in my loose tunic and leggings, fully clothed yet feeling utterly vulnerable. For a long moment, we were frozen.
At last, Archer stepped forward the smallest bit, his hands sliding gently, slowly, around my waist. When I didn’t pull away, he turned me, gently avoiding my shackles and tugging me against him so that my back was pressed to his chest. I could feel the pounding of his heart, matching the rhythm of mine.
Swallowing thickly, I let my head fall back against his shoulder.
“Thank you for helping me with my curse,” he whispered at last, his breath feathering against my cheek. “It’s usually despair that consumes me, but the panic has started becoming more frequent too.”
There was pain in the admission—I could feel his shame—but I appreciated his vulnerability in sharing that with me. Appreciated his gratitude, even if my acts of healing were still self-serving in that they helped give me relief as well.
Most of all, though I refused to admit it aloud, I was thankful to just be held.
Other than Mama’s embraces, which already felt distant, I had had little comfort in the touch of a fellow fae.
I’d had nothing but Onyx’s affectionate cuddles and Archer’s and my forced interactions.
It wasn’t until this moment that I realized how starved for simple touch I had become.
As swiftly as he’d embraced me, Archer dropped his arms and stepped backward.
The space between us could have been miles, the absence of his warmth almost painful.
This is good, I admonished myself. He isn’t supposed to be hugging you like he cares.
You don’t need to pretend to be happy anymore.
The farce is over. “Can you…can you change?” he asked awkwardly.
“I might have to sleep in this tunic,” I said. “I can’t lift my arms far.” To illustrate my point, I lifted them a little, the metal clinking.
“I could get Lily?” Archer suggested. “That’s what I should have done…earlier.” He laughed, the sound once again awkward, at odds with the charming prince I knew. “I don’t want you to feel more uncomfortable than you already are.”
“I want to bathe after the dungeons,” I said longingly, gazing at the nearby tub.
“That’s it.” Archer started striding away. “I’m making the guards see reason and let you bathe. We aren’t barbarians. Even they—and Father, if he were here—should remember that.”
There was a long, heated discussion until a compromise was found: the female guard and Lily would stay with me while I bathed, shackle-free.
With the presence of the guard, Lily and I couldn’t speak as freely, but she tried to act as if the sullen female wasn’t standing against the wall, arms crossed and eyes glaring at us the entire time.