Page 97 of Ruin of Revenants

I tensed beside him.

What’s wrong? Archer asked in my mind, startling me. I hadn’t realized he was so aware of me that he’d sensed the way my muscles had gone taut.

I can’t ride.

Maybe I’ll have to find a specially made saddle that will fit us both.

My gaze flew to his before I noticed the smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. Heat flooded my cheeks before he nudged me gently. There’s no need to worry. Whatever happens, I’ve got you, Feathers.

I settled against the back of the seat, trying to ignore the searing pain of the shackles at my wrists and the constant, lingering ache that was the void where my well of magic should have been. Cliff wound his way through an empty street and toward an inn with windows glowing with flickering candlelight, inviting us in from the dark storm. Palms ringed the courtyard as our jaguars trod across the cobblestones, and I watched the wind sway their fronds wildly.

A heavily cloaked and hooded stable boy came running to help, shouting directions for parking the carriage. When he spotted the jaguars, he froze, his complexion paling. Cliff hopped down. “No need to fear Gorgeous, Chase, or Fluffy. Princess can be a little sassy, but she’s a softie too. If you can guide us to someplace in your stables, I’ll keep them far from the horses and stable hands. Clay and I can spend the night with them to keep them tame as mice, and they won’t harm a soul, I promise.” He reached out, petting each of the nearest jaguars indulgently to prove his point.

Biting back my grin, I followed Owen as he shoved open our door, lifting his hand and directing the rain away from us. Lily, Archer, and I poured out after him, racing toward the inn’s door. The king’s four guards pressed in close around us, like a living cage hemming us in and watching our every move.

“We’ll see you in the morning, Cliff and Clay!” Lily called over her shoulder.

As we stepped over the inn’s threshold, I found we were all still magically dry thanks to Owen’s efforts.

The interior was comfortable and open, the beat of the rain against the tin roof providing a musical backdrop. Though the hearths remained unlit due to the sticky heat permeating the air, countless candles adorned the space, maintaining a bright, welcoming atmosphere. Only a handful of people occupied a couple tables, and as soon as they saw their prince, they stood to bow and curtsey.

“No need for all the formality,” he said, waving them off. “Sit and enjoy your meals. We’re only taking shelter to wait out the rain.”

But as we stepped further into the room, the guests started noticing the shackles on my wrists, the clinking of the forget-me-not infused metal like a warning bell telling them all exactly what I was. Every fearful, hateful glance—every muttered curse—it was a stark reminder that I’d never be welcome here in Rainsong.

“The prince’s demon whore,” someone muttered, loudly enough that Archer heard.

He whirled on the male, pinning him with a deadly stare.

Instantly, the male, who appeared to be half-fae, half-goblin, froze in his seat. His skin had a green tint to it, but when the prince turned on him, it paled to a greyish hue. He licked his needlepoint teeth with a black tongue and blinked too-large eyes.

“What did you say?” Archer’s voice was too calm, too quiet.

I could feel his indignance rippling through our bond.

The part-goblin cleared his throat. “I said, it’s good to see Your Highness and your lovely betrothed.” He stood on shaky knees, dipping into a bow.

Archer tossed him a lazy grin. “That’s what I thought.”

As I inhaled the tantalizing scents of fish stew and fresh bread, my stomach growled embarrassingly loudly.

When Archer turned to me with a dimpled smile, I held my breath, lost in his gaze for a second. He looked sincere, without a hint of pretense, as he said, “Good thing for you that we don’t have to eat jerky and dried fruit in the carriage tonight.” He winked. We’ll eat in a room away from all these prying eyes, he reassured me in my mind.

Feeling a little light-headed—and I didn’t think it was from the forget-me-nots or my hunger—I shattered the moment by turning away.

It’s all an act, I thought to myself. He doesn’t have feelings for someone he would have killed when he first met. And you certainly can’t have feelings for him.

So why wasn’t that argument fully convincing anymore? Why did I sense a softening in the prince’s manners? Why did it seem like the emotions filling our bond were anything but hostile and angry?

The door to our room clicked shut with a note of finality, making a weight settle over me. When the guards had tried to demand they stay in a room with “the prisoner” to watch me, Archer had made it clear that only he would be staying with me. The guards had agreed, only if they were in the room next door and I remained in shackles, since they were keeping my key.

Though Archer and I had shared his quarters for a while now, those were expansive, giving us plenty of opportunities to avoid one another for days on end. This room, unfortunately, was smaller than mine at the castle, and the lone bed wouldn’t allow for much space between us either.

There was a beat of hesitation as Archer scanned the room with me. “I can sleep on the chair or the floor,” he offered, tugging at his collar.

Something about the serious set of his mouth and the total lack of teasing made me more uneasy than if he’d tried to get a rise out of me.

I laughed, but it sounded false and hollow in my ears. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re just sleeping, and we both need to rest well for whatever comes next.”