“Aye.”
Her expression shifted slightly at that, something thoughtful passing across her face before she seemed to decide on something.
“Very well.”
Archer almost stumbled. He had expected negotiation or hesitation, or at the very least something that required effort to overcome. He hadn’t expected her to agree quite so readily, to want to spend another night with him. Instead she simply accepted it, as though it were already decided, as though she had been waiting for him to ask.
The relief he felt at that was almost palpable, like a living thing around his shoulders. For a moment, he wondered if he had misheard her, a sudden fear gripping him that she had, in fact, rejected his efforts, but then River spoke again.
“But tonight we will go somewhere else,” she said. “I daenae wish for ye to come to me chambers.”
As much as Archer wanted to know the reason behind her demand, he didn’t ask. He didn’t want to ruin whatever delicate balance they had built between them.
“Where, then?” he asked instead.
“Ye must wait and see.”
There was a faint challenge in her voice now, as though she had decided something mid-conversation and had no intention of explaining herself. Archer should have insisted. He should have reminded her of discretion, of caution, of the fact that the assassin still had not been caught and that unpredictability was not their ally. But as long as it was within castle walls, he doubted something would happen. Since the last attack, thecastle’s defences were so thorough that not even a mouse could crawl by unseen.
“I will choose,” River added. “I think it is finally me turn to pick the place.”
Archer couldn’t help but wonder what she was up to. There was something terribly mischievous now about the way she looked at him, as if much of her anger had evaporated and had been replaced by something lighter. He didn’t get his hopes up too much, though; she might have agreed to one more night with him, but that didn’t mean they could go back to how they were before he regained his memory; nor did it mean that he could bring himself to tell her how he truly felt about her.
“Why do ye get to choose?” Archer asked, though he wasn’t certain why he even said that at all. There was simply an urge within him to go against what River was saying, if only to hide the fact that he had become so fond of her.
“Because ye chose every other time,” River said.
“Aye,” said Archer. “So?”
“So, I think it’s me turn to pick.”
“Is it truly so important to ye?”
“Is it truly so important toye?” River shot back.
The truth was that it wasn’t important at all to him, and he doubted it was this important to River either. And yet there they were, arguing like children simply because they couldn’t help it.
“It doesnae matter,” Archer mumbled. “Never mind.”
River let out a long-suffering sigh, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation. “Ye are so maddenin’!” she said. “I give ye another chance and ye’re already tryin’ to ruin it.”
Her words struck something deep within Archer, and his gaze snapped up to hers. “If ye daenae want this, we daenae have to do it.”
“I never said I didnae!” River said. “But if ye daenae want it?—”
“I never said I didnae,” Archer grumbled.
The truth was that River had reached deep inside him, to a place no one had ever touched before. She had thawed something in him that had long since been frozen, bringing him back to life, but he could hardly admit all that to himself, let alone to someone else. Telling River the truth, explaining to her how he felt seemed to Archer like a task harder than any other. He would rather fight armies upon armies on an open field on his own, with nothing but a sword and a shield, rather than have to tell River everything he felt about her—everything he loved about her.
“Very well,” he said in the end, giving her a firm nod.
River’s smile softened, just slightly, and Archer knew his response had pleased her. Perhaps there was something more than his words that made her smile like that. Perhaps she saw something in him that he was desperately trying to hide.
“Good,” she said. She turned to leave, then paused, her lips parting ever so slightly as if she wanted to add something. Then, she shook her head, almost imperceptibly, and her smile widened ever so slightly.
And then she walked away, leaving Archer to stand there, watching her leave without another word. He desperately wished to believe he was unaffected by all this, or at most irritated by her and her antics. But what lingered instead was the memory of her smile, and the increasingly maddening thought that he wanted to feel it again, properly this time, without any distance between them at all.
22
