Chapter 4 Archer
Archer
Ifinish building the fire in Halvard and Rychell’s living room and wince at the noise of banging pots and pans.
The whole family is in the kitchen. Nate starts singing a song at the top of his lungs, and I breathe out, trying to stop my shoulders from creeping up toward my ears.
It was so quiet an hour ago when they were sleeping. So wondrously quiet.
I brush my hands off on the linen square folded beside the stack of firewood, then join the family. Halvard is finishing up a pancake over the kitchen fire. The skillet he’s holding is massive, but it looks small in his big, green hand.
They greet me and we tuck in. The sun streams through the back window and drapes a veil of gold over Rychell’s hand as she sets it atop Halvard’s thick knuckles.
They trade a grin. The love in their eyes is magnetic.
I pull my sleeves down to my wrists and flex my fingers.
I want to stare at this orc and human pair sometimes, to study their silent exchanges, but not only is goggling them pathetic, but it’s also creepy, so I force my gaze back to my plate.
The pancakes’ edges are crisp and their insides are soft. Absolutely delicious.
“These are perfect, Halvard,” I say, finishing my last bite. It’s smothered in raspberry sauce and is a divine experience.
Nate is staring at me again, his fork hovering over his own plate. “I didn’t believe you. About the food.”
I laugh, and Rychell makes a noise of exasperation toward her son.
“It’s fine, Rychell,” I say. “Nate, you didn’t believe I eat pancakes?”
“That’s right. I mean, steak makes sense. Is it the raspberry sauce?” He lifts a forkful and lets it dribble back onto his plate. “It does look like blood if you squint your eyes right.”
Then we’re all laughing, and Nate joins in before attacking his pancakes with a growl.
“Eat like a person, Nate, please.” Rychell’s grin takes the edge off her stern request.
Halvard kisses the top of Nate’s head. “I’ll take you camping before it gets too cold. We can growl and feast in the forest like proper orcs.”
Nate leaps up, nearly knocking Halvard’s chin with his skull. “Please, yes! Ma, can we?”
“Yes, yes. Now, go fetch the herald’s broadsheet. It’s reading time,” Rychell says.
I help Rychell and Halvard clean the plates. Nate barrels back into the room with the broadsheet held like a trophy above his head.
“Master Archer is famous!” Nate waves the sheet from side to side.
What in the world could be on the broadsheet that has anything to do with me?
Rychell nods and tousles Nate’s hair. “We know that. He’s a well-respected author, remember?”
I roll my eyes at that, imagining the stack of unpaid bills at home, but I am curious what Nate means.
The pixie youngling holds out the broadsheet to Halvard.
As the orc reads, he purses his lips around his tusks.
Rychell peers over his arm to check out the broadsheet. She pulls in a breath like a hiss.
Fantastic. This is surely going to be fabulous news.
“All right,” I say. “You’ve developed the tension beautifully. It’s time for the payoff.”
I hold out a hand, but Halvard doesn’t give up the long piece of heavily inked parchment. I lock him down with a look, and finally, he gives it to me.
The front page is mostly taken up with a three-line high headline and a detailed sketch.
The Dark Prince of Prose bewitched by the Queen of Quills!
Breakfast curdles in my stomach and I drop into Halvard’s chair. “No, no, nooooo.”
“But you’re famous, Archer!” Nate jumps up and down, his black hair flopping over his blue forehead.
“Master Archer,” Rychell corrects in a whisper.
“The artist made you look taller too!” Nate jabs a sauce-covered finger at the sketch.
“Many thanks, little one,” I drawl.
Halvard is holding back a laugh and Rychell pinches his arm.
The sketch shows Colette and me kissing and the tumbling Snowlight cookies. It’s snowing in the image even though it was not doing so at the faire.
Caught mid-kiss and in sugared ruins! is penned below the sketch and I almost wish the printing press had never been invented. Almost.
I hold up the broadsheet. “At least this is only local news. The excitement will die down soon after I leave.”
Because if the news of me kissing someone gets to Kingstown, Valeria will come down on this place like a firestorm.
I swallow. I haven’t seen her in over a decade, but our last exchange will be rooted in my mind for eternity.
I’m just hoping I can avoid actual marriage to her until she finds someone else to obsess over.
Nate hugs my leg with impressive strength. “Don’t leave yet!”
I detach him and crouch to eye level. His blue cheeks are flushed as they always seem to be due to his constant movement.
“I will return for a visit very soon. I promise.”
He hugs me around the neck and his proud parents smile down at us.
Once we have my horse, Moonglow, watered and loaded up, I thank the family, wave goodbye in the courtyard, and take the side exit to the road in front of the house.
A crowd of both humans and creatures is cheering. At me.
Staggering back, I try to form words. Moonglow dances and snorts. I hold his lead and put a soft hand on his nose.
“Easy, pal.”
Is this about the broadsheet sketch? Of course, it is.
“Are you going to see Mistress Colette?” a stranger asks.
A male shifter raises a hand; I can smell the wolf in his blood. “Will you marry her here in Leafshire Cove or take her to Honey Sands?”
“I think you should wed in Kingstown,” another of the crowd calls out. “Your wedding will need to be very large with all the well-wishers!”
Great gods of all the realms. Valeria would have a fantastic time destroying that.
“Do you want to come back inside?” Halvard is at the door behind me.
I adjust my sweaty grip on the reins. “No, this will die down once I’m gone.”
“All right.” The orc waves an arm to get the chattering group’s attention.
They’ve dissolved into excited gossip. “Let’s move on, now.
You’ll scare my son. Plus, this is rude behavior.
We know better than this in Leafshire Cove.
You tourists must behave as we locals do, or our mayor will have something to say about it. ”
The crowd nods and waves, moving off in smaller clusters.
“Thanks,” I say to Halvard. “I might stop by the Acorn Inn to make sure Colette isn’t being likewise accosted.”
Halvard gives me a smile that should be frightening, considering the size of his tusks, but the kindness in his eyes overcomes that bit. “That’s kind of you,” he says. “I can go instead if you want to get on the road.”
“Thank you, but this is my problem. I’ll take care of it. See you soon.”
Halvard waves as I mount up and trot down the main road toward the Acorn Inn that sits to the right of the town gates. I don’t want to check on Colette. But I did trip and start the whole kissing situation, so this drama is at least partially my doing.
The inn’s double doors are cracked open despite the chilly weather. I tie Moonglow up at the post and push the doors open farther. Every table in the gathering room is packed with people chatting. When I walk in, they go silent and stare.
Colette isn’t at the bar top or the front desk, where patrons would likely check in for a stay. I don’t see a single employee anywhere. Maybe she is too overwhelmed to leave her room. I do understand that.
“Where is the owner?” I ask the folks. “Do any of you know?”
The inn’s walls tremble slightly, releasing dust from the ceiling and making the sconces along the wall flicker. The stairs rumble, and a picture on the wall near the first door on the left swings sideways.
“The inn is telling you right, Master Darkheart,” a large orc female says, grinning from ear to ear. Her tusks pull at her red-painted lips. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”
“Betilda’s right!” a human male says, lifting a flask.
Ah, so that’s the gossip queen, Betilda.
The crowd laughs and breaks into more gossip. Both my name and Colette’s are on everyone’s tongue, along with the headline I read in the broadsheet. This is madness.
The sentient inn makes the carpet on the steps at the back of the room roll like a wave.
When my foot hits the first step, the motion stops.
I hurry upstairs, then pause at the horrible cacophony.
Beyond Colette’s door, the jumbled and fast-paced sounds of a lute, a pipe, and a drum come from what I guess is a bespelled music box.
The song playing is painfully peppy, especially for this early in the morning.
I knock, but she doesn’t hear me. Maybe she’s truly panicking and curled up in a ball somewhere inside.
I should have made it clear at the event that we weren’t together.
I knock again and wait, hoping she’s not too upset.
Suddenly, the carpet under my feet lifts.
I’m thrown forward, and Colette’s door is swinging open.
Gasping, I stumble into her room and catch myself on a side table.
The inn slams the door shut behind me. I look up to see Colette, twisted to face me, but appearing frozen in shock.
She’s on her toes, and the smoke from a blown-out sconce dances above her pink and blue music box.
Small undershorts, trimmed in white lace, cover her shapely bum.
She’s tied up a pair of cream-colored woolen stockings at her thighs, the bows silken and shiny.
Her waist shows between her camisole and the shorts, and every ounce of blood in my body goes straight to my cock. I want to fist her hair in my hand and…
Her face flushes, but she makes no move to cover herself up, even though she’s only in her underclothes. “What are you doing here?”
I avert my eyes, staring at the floor. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to make sure you were safe. Um, from the crowds and all. I knocked. The inn used the carpet to throw me in here and…”
Words tangle in my mind, and I can’t smooth them into proper sentences, not with her sugar and mint scent washing over me and my body insisting we immediately mate.
Damned vampire nature. Under my cold shell, I’m on fire in the presence of this lovely female.
She can likely see my cock and its current status.
Blessed Runestones, this is embarrassing.
“I’ll go,” I say quickly. “Unless you want me to shoo the people away from your room down there.”
“Ah, I see.” She points a finger at the walls of her room. “Naughty inn,” she says. “Archer, it’s so kind of you to come all the way through town to check on me.” She’s practically purring and I grit my teeth.
She can see my body’s response to her lack of clothing, and she’s loving every second of it.
“Stop enjoying my discomfort,” I say, trying and failing not to huff a laugh myself.
She chuckles. “I will have a stern talk with the inn once you’re gone. Are you all right? Did the gossipers swamp you too?”
I keep my eyes on the floor. “They did. How did all of that end up in a broadsheet so quickly?”
“Our town witch, Tully, bespelled the printing press so we get up-to-date information right away around here. Well, if the spell decides it’s interesting.”
“Well, that’s just wonderful,” I say wryly.
Her laugh is like a chime. “Not this time, I guess.”
“I should go. The sooner I’m gone, the sooner you can get back to your regular schedule without all the gawkers.”
“Travel safely, Archer. It was… It was interesting meeting you.”
I snort a laugh. “Likewise. Good luck with your next book.”
“You too.”
Her final goodbye follows me through the door that I shut soundly. It’s wild how I used to have some dignity.
“Thanks so much, inn,” I whisper to the walls as I hurry out of the establishment.
The crowd is yelling out questions that I ignore.
I’m on my horse and headed out of town before they can catch me. I look back, regarding the town walls. An insistent, quiet part of me longs to turn around, so I give Moonglow his head, and he breaks into a healthy canter.