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He would do anything to keep the princess smiling.
“Well, then I might see you more often, Archie. My father loves his huntsmen. And next time you’re in the area, don’t hide away.” The princess then excused herself to return to the children, and Archie was left with a great desire to kiss or kill a certain cat.
Chapter 8
Raining Cats
Leo was willing to admit the interaction with the princess hadn’t gone entirely to plan. He had gone through a lot of trouble to make sure the right book—one of the books at the Charity House that also matched one of the books Archie had from his mother—was on the top of the pile for the princess to find with the page torn out. A trap just as clever as any Leo had used to catch mice over the years, even if it was meant to serve an entirely different purpose.
But the boy was too stupid to take the hint—that he should have embellished his backstory a bit. Ainsley might be easy enough to impress with some poetry, but that would never be enough to win over the king and truly make the boy’s fortune.
It would never get Leo into the castle past the stewards’ offices, either. He had tried the last time they were there, but it wasn’t like stealing through the mill or another peasant dwelling. The locks were new. The doors firmly shut. And there were far too many of those black and silver guards lurking in the shadows.
But Leo just knew that was where he was meant to be—in with the royal family.
Seeing Ainsley up close had only confirmed that somehow.
Leo knew all sorts of things about the princess he had no business knowing. Like the way she hated dresses. Or the way her curls and freckles could never be completely tamed. He saw her running after him with skinned knees. Climbing a tree. In that light, it really was quite a thing to see her putting on a more matronly display at the Charity House every week.
And the cat had no trouble admitting that the mystery called to him more than any great need to play matchmaker for a reluctant miller’s son.
He just had to keep making plans. Something even a slow and bumbling oaf of a human couldn’t mess up.
But then, Leo still wasn’t a faerie, and there was nothing a cat could do about the late winter rain that descended on the mill the next day.
* * *
The rain shouldn’t have been a surprise. In fact, seeing a proper rainstorm like this in other years would have made Archie glad. Just what they needed to wash out the last of the winter frost and usher in the spring. But his hunting companion was a cat, and Archie wasn’t about to try to make Leo go outside in the wet. Archie had already been scratched for less.
Archie wasn’t even sure a bow would work in the wet—he struggled enough with it when it was dry. If only he could get the rabbits to stay still long enough for him to whack them over the head with a stick. He had used a staff before, sparring with the other boys in town, and though he often thought the weapon was crude and distasteful, it was a lot simpler than the bow, and Archie had a knack for it. And by knack, he meant he was larger than most of the other boys who might have challenged him. Often just holding a staff was enough to get himself out of trouble, even if it led to people calling him an ox, oaf, or even an ogre behind his back.
Either way, Archie would be stuck in the house and the mill all day, keeping himself busy with his normal chores. Which wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t for the company he had to keep. Just about as pleasant as the people who called Archie an ogre, Rupert was in the kitchen, sitting at the table like he had been waiting for him.
His eldest brother was a finger or two shorter than Archie but almost as thick. A short beard helped to fill out his face, and it had always seemed a cruel twist of irony that instead of the blond, limp hair that both Harris and Archie had gotten from their father, Rupert’s had a richer, darker hue that could have only come from their mother.
Archie quickly busied himself with the pot for the morning porridge, but it didn’t help. He had to move slower in the house—afraid he would bump or break something as he was a larger man trying to fit himself into a smaller space—and that gave Rupert all the opening he needed.
“I don’t suppose you are going out today,” Rupert said, starting mildly though Archie could hear the storm behind the words. “With it raining buckets out there.”
“No,” Archie agreed, standing his ground the best he could. “I don’t suppose I can.”
Rupert nodded. “Good. Because I wanted to talk to you.”
“I’ll pay for the grain,” Archie said in a rush. Harris would have told Rupert that Archie had continued to take the flour to the Charity House against their brother’s wishes, and that was likely what had Rupert’s hackles raised. Even before their father died, Rupert was a man who liked to be obeyed. “I know it’s yours now, but I’m good for it.”
Rupert looked down and then up again, wincing like something in Archie’s words had offended him greatly. “Are you?”
“Yes. I made good catches all last week. It’s just the weather . . .” He glanced back toward the window helplessly. Rupert could see the rain for himself.
“You know Father always said hunting was like gambling. And I suppose he would know, since Granddad Archer did plenty of both. You might get a decent catch one year but then spend the next empty.”
There wasn’t much Archie could say to that. The bow was from their grandfather on their mother’s side. As such, their father never seemed to think he had the right to simply throw the bow out, but it was no secret he disapproved of the man and the inconsistent way he had provided for his family.
Their father certainly never thought archery was a skill his own sons needed to be taught.
Rupert pressed on in the silence, gaining steam. “Father should have gotten you a real apprenticeship years ago and probably would have if not for the plague. But you’re young enough still that you could find something more steady if you looked—Harris and I would help you. We know you drew the short straw with the will, but you’re still our brother, and we never intended to put you out without options.”
“I appreciate it.” But the words came more as a way to break the tension, not because Archie truly wanted to put himself back under his brother’s thumb so completely.
