She didn’t turn back to look at him. She only rushed down the corridor, eager for a swift escape.
It was a dreary day, and this time, it didn’t seem like the storm would let up. Fat droplets of rain fell against the windows and the stone walls of Castle O’Douglas, their rhythmic pattering almost hypnotic. The sky outside was the gray of a blade, the clouds thick like smoke.
River sat with Arya and Colby in her sitting room, near the window that provided them some light. Finlay, always present, sat on the couch, sharpening a small blade as the rest of them drew on loose pieces of paper.
All in all, it had been a quiet morning, until Arya said, “Will ye have bairns with the Laird now?”
River paused, glancing at Arya from the corner of her eye. What could have possibly possessed her to ask this, she wondered? What thoughts were running behind her eyes?
“Nay,” said River, shaking her head. “I have nae intention of doin’ such a thing.”
Colby stared at them both. Even Finlay had stopped sharpening the blade, and though he hadn’t turned to look at them, River knew he was paying attention.
“But ye seem...different,” said Arya. “He seems different. With ye.”
River swallowed in a dry throat. “Naethin’ has changed, trust me.”
It was a lie, but one delivered expertly. Though even River herself couldn’t quite say what it was that had changed between them. She saw him more often now; that much was true. But apart from that—and apart from that persistent head in her core every time she saw him—nothing else had changed.
“If ye have bairns with him,” said Arya after a small pause, “does that mean ye’ll send us away?”
River gasped, her breath cut short. Almost before Arya had even finished her sentence, River rushed to her and gathered her and Colby into her arms.
“I will never send ye away,” she said firmly, looking into both of their eyes. “Never. Nae matter what happens, we’ll always be together, aye?”
Slowly, almost reluctantly, Arya smiled and nodded, comforted by River’s words.
“Ye promise?” Colby asked.
“I promise,” said River. “Nae matter what.”
Satisfied by her answer, the children hugged her and ran off to play, chasing each other around the room. River watched them with a small smile, thinking how anyone could ever think she would send them away. They were her whole life now; they were the reason she kept going every day.
“Me lady,” Finlay called softly from the couch, and River joined him there, perching on the seat. “I’ve been meanin’ to tell ye...ye should be more wary of Laird O’Douglas.”
River couldn’t help the frown that formed on her face. “Wary of him? Why?”
She was cautious, of course. She knew what kind of man Archer was, so she also knew there wasn’t any real danger. For one, he had never hurt her, nor had he shown her any desire to do so. But he had also never lied to her. He had been upfront from the start, even about the worst parts of him.
Unless he’s lyin’ now...but why would he do such a thing?
“The man has a way with words,” said Finlay, with clear disdain. “I wouldnae want ye to do somethin’ ye’ll...regret.”
River couldn’t help but chuckle, but Finlay remained perfectly serious, and she soon realized he wasn’t joking.
“Finlay...thank ye for yer concern, but I daenae see what the Laird could say to me to change me mind,” she said. “Daenae fash. I ken who he is. I ken who he truly is.”
“Good,” said Finlay, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced. “Good, because I willnae hesitate to act if need be.”
“That willnae be necessary,” River assured him—and warned him at the same time. “The Laird isnae doin’ anythin’ to bother me.”
Once again, Finlay didn’t seem convinced, but he dropped the matter. Still, River had the sense that he would start keeping an even closer eye to her, paranoid as the man was.
Ever since her mother’s death, Finlay had become even more protective of her. Perhaps it was misplaced guilt, River thought, for not being able to save her. Perhaps he thought her fragile now. Perhaps he worried that something would happen to her, too.
But as long as she was in Castle O’Douglas, River doubted anything bad would happen to her.
The first thing River saw when she opened the door that night was Archer’s deep frown. The man seemed to be perpetually angry and perpetually confused—though she supposed the latter was to be expected. He all but growled at her as he stepped past her and entered her sitting room, before standing in the middle as if he didn’t know what to do next.
