Evangeline found Archer in the hall, leaning against the stone wall, arms crossed firmly over his chest, as if waiting was not a thing he was comfortable with. His jaw tightened as she stepped out of the room.
Something inside her tightened as well, right around her chest. The sensation was knifelike, biting, and uncomfortable. It felt even sharper as his eyes raked over her, darkening as he took her in.
She’d put on the clothes he’d given her. Although if she’d been more awake, she wouldn’t have. The full white skirt was actually the most practical of the items, as the other bits weren’t practical at all. The pale pink blouse was too sheer, the leather vest was too tight, and it felt even tighter as Archer’s eyes lingered on it.
She wondered then if following this guard was a good idea.
Just standing near him made her feel as if she’d already made a bad decision.
He’d saved her life, yes. But he didn’t seem much like a savior anymore. There was an almost inhuman sharpness to him, one that made her imagine she might slice her finger were she to accidentally graze his jaw.
His clothes looked a little too careless for a royal guard. He wore tall scuffed boots, fitted leather pants that hung low on his hips, and two belted straps securing a number of knives. His shirt was loose and undone at the
throat with sleeves shoved up past his elbows, revealing lean, strong arms. She could still remember the powerful way they’d wrapped tightly around her, how good it had felt to have him hold her. And for a prickling second, she was jealous of anyone else he might ever hold.
This was definitely not a good idea.
And—where were her other guards?
“There was a threat,” Archer said upon noticing the shift of Evangeline’s eyes as they darted up and down the low-lit hall. “They went to investigate.”
“What kind of threat?” she asked.
Archer shrugged a shoulder. “It sounded like a screeching cat to me, but your guards seemed to feel differently.” One corner of his mouth slowly tugged up into an almost smile. In that second, his entire face changed. He’d been handsome before, but now there something almost uncomfortable about how beautiful he was.
But Evangeline didn’t want to think him beautiful at all. She had a feeling he was making fun of her, or that his smile was part of a private joke that she was not privy to.
She scowled.
This only made him grin wider. Which was worse. He had dimples. Unfair dimples. Dimples were supposed to be sweet, but she sensed this guard was anything except for that.
Evangeline asked herself one last time if it was wise to go with him. But then she decided not to answer the question. Because the truth was, she wanted to go with him. Maybe she was still delirious from her fall down the well or from lack of sleep, or maybe something besides her heart had been broken during the time she couldn’t remember.
“Have we met before?” she asked. “Do I know you?”
“No. I don’t usually play with things that easily break.” He uncrossed his arms and shoved off the wall.
Archer moved through the castle like a thief, his steps elegant and quick as he darted through halls and rounded corners. It was difficult to keep up in the ridiculously full skirt he’d tossed at her.
“Hurry it up, Princess.”
“Where are we going?” she asked when she finally caught up with him at the bottom of a set of stairs.
She was slightly winded, while he looked almost bored as he lazily opened a door that led outside.
Evangeline hugged her arms to her chest as a burst of frigid air blew past her. “It’s freezing out there.”
Archer smirked. “You don’t get to choose the weather when someone attacks you.”
“Is that why you gave me such impractical clothes?”
His only answer was another frustrating smirk before he started down the path into the dark.
The air was even colder when Evangeline stepped outside after him. It must have been an hour shy of sunrise. The night was as black as a well of ink, save for the intermittent lampposts that lined the garden path, revealing large pools of water on either side.
He’d taken her to the Water Garden.
She could hear the bubbling fountains and tumbling waterfalls in the distance. In the day she imagined it was rather whimsical, but right now, during the darkest, coldest part of the night, all she could think about was how it would feel if she fell into those waters. She doubted any of them were as deep as the well she’d almost died in the day before. Yet for a second, she couldn’t move.
“Come on, Princess,” called Archer.
But he was too far ahead for her to see him. Evangeline felt nervous once again, remembering what had happened the last time she’d lost a guard.
All she could hear now was the quick sound of steps.
After an anxious second, she followed the sound. It led her to a rickety suspension bridge. It was the sort she would have loved as child, made of old wood and rope and probably more than a dash of recklessness, as it felt wildly unstable. If she’d had a coin her pocket, she would have tossed it in the rushing river below and said a quiet prayer for safe passage.
She could hear the water smash against the rocks. But she couldn’t hear Archer’s steps.
“Archer?” she called. No one answered.
Had he lost her on purpose? She didn’t want to believe that. She had known following him was a bad idea, and yet deep down, she’d hoped it was a good one.
But maybe it was time to head back to the castle.
The bridge wobbled beneath her as she turned around. Then cold arms suddenly wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her sides.
“Don’t scream,” Archer whispered into her ear, “or I’ll toss you off this bridge.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she gasped.
“You want to test me, Princess? Because I would dare to do even more.”
He easily dragged her toward the side of the bridge and bent her forward over the meager rope railing until her hair was dangling above the water rushing below. Evangeline had a feeling that even if she didn’t scream, he still might throw her over just to watch her fall.
“Are you mad?” She wriggled against him.
He laughed under his breath. “You’ll have to do better than that.” “I thought you were supposed to teach me what to do!”
“I want to see if you know anything first.” He leaned over her back until his mouth was right at her ear. She thought she felt his teeth, nipping her as he spoke.
Her heartbeat pounded faster. Clearly he was mad after all. She tried to butt his head with hers.
He quickly pulled back. “Easy to dodge.”
She stomped, aiming for his foot, but all that did was rock the rickety bridge.
“I’m starting to feel as if you don’t want to escape.” He definitely nipped her ear this time, teeth sharp as they scraped her skin. She wondered if he liked to hurt everyone, or if it was just her. Something about this was starting to feel personal. Although the nip of teeth at her ear didn’t hurt so much as it unsettled her.
“Do you want me to toss you over the edge?” he taunted. “Of course not!” she yelled.
“Then why aren’t you fighting?” He sounded angry. “I’m trying my best.”
“And I’m not, which means you need to try harder. Kick me.”
Evangeline gritted her teeth and kicked backward. She aimed between his legs, but only managed to ruffle the back of her ridiculous skirt.
“Good job, Princess.” “Are you mocking me?”
“Not this time. You made me adjust my stance. Any kick like that and most assailants will bring their legs closer together. This allows you to change your position. Step out with your right leg,” he commanded. “Then move your left leg so that it’s behind me.”
“What will that do?”
“Just do it. I’m not letting you go until you’ve earned it.” Archer tightened his cold arms as a raindrop fell, followed by another and another. Within seconds her thin shirt was soaked. So was his. She could feel it clinging to her back in the places that her vest didn’t cover as he continued to tighten his grip until it almost hurt.
Evangeline finally did as he had told her. She stepped to the right with one leg, then moved the other behind him. He was right. It shifted her position, but it seemed only to further entwine them.
“Now grab me,” he ordered. “My arms are pinned!” “But your hands are free.”
They were, but she still felt hesitant to grab him.
“Do it,” he repeated, “then use your hip to leverage my weight and flip me over.”
Archer held her tighter. He banded one arm firmly around her ribs, the other he circled just below her waist, almost on her hips, his fingers splayed in a way that felt less like he wanted to restrain her and more like he just wanted to touch her—to hold her on that bridge in the dark where it was only the two of them and the rain and the feel of too many heartbeats racing between them.
Finally she grabbed his legs. Everything was wet and slick. Her fingers slipped against his leathers as the bridge rocked.
She lost her footing. The slat that had been beneath her was gone. “No—” Evangeline cried.
Archer moved ridiculously fast. He shielded her, turning her body as they fell. When they landed just shy of the broken slat, it was his back that hit the bridge with a loud crack.
She heard him grunt, as if the air was knocked from his lungs, but he didn’t let her go. If anything, he held her tighter.
She could feel his ragged breathing against her neck as they lay there on that broken bridge. Her shirt had ridden up in the fight, and his fingers were now on her bare stomach.
The rain pounded harder. Every single inch of her skin was soaked. But all she felt were his fingertips as they slowly traveled lower toward the band of her skirt.
“This is where you break free,” he said softly.
“I don’t want to,” she said, but the words came out wrong, breathless. And despite all the cold and the damp, she could feel herself go hot from her cheeks all the way down to the bare skin beneath Archer’s hands. “I mean, I just need to catch my breath.”
He made a scolding sound with his tongue. “You don’t get to catch your breath. If you stop fighting, you lose.” He moved one icy hand up to her throat and she felt the sharp tip of a knife against her neck.
Evangeline went very still, or she tried to. It was surprisingly hard not to move with a blade to her throat and a hand intimately wrapped around her stomach. “Are you insane?”
“Undoubtedly.” He slowly moved the dagger, drawing a careful line over her pulse. He didn’t pierce her skin, but the effect was still dizzying.
“Never imagine you’re safe,” he scolded. His knife traced a line from the hollow of her throat to the center of her chest all the way down to the laces of her vest.
Her breathing hitched. The tip of the blade hovered just beneath the laces. All it would take was one little flick and they would be undone.
No.
She wasn’t sure if he thought the word or if she did. It almost sounded like his voice in her head.
Then in one impossible move, Archer hauled her to her feet and released her just as quickly.
She staggered back on quivering legs.
Across from her, Archer was soaked. Water dripped from his golden hair to his pale cheeks, but he didn’t even shiver. He just stood there, gripping the knife he’d just held to her throat. His knuckles were white, but that might have just been the cold. “We’ll try again later.”
“What if I don’t want to try later?” she panted.
He smirked, an expression that said it was cute that she thought she had a choice. “If that’s what you want, then you’ll need to do a better job of fighting me off when I come into your bedroom. Until then you carry this. Everywhere.”
Archer tossed her his dagger.
It flipped, handle over tip. Jewels sparkled in the light, and suddenly Evangeline saw an image of this knife. But it wasn’t in the air, it was on a dark floor. And this wasn’t just a picture, it was a memory.
Many of the gems were missing, but the knife’s hilt still glittered in the torchlight, pulsing blue and purple, the color of blood before it was spilled.
The memory was quick.
As it faded, she looked at the knife in her hand. It was definitely the same blade. It had the same blue and purple gems, down to the ones that were missing.
She didn’t know if it had always been his, or if it had once been hers, but one thing she was certain of was that Archer had lied about knowing her.
She wanted to ask him why, and she wanted to ask him about the knife. But once again, he was suddenly gone.
