Page 112 of Evermore

I pulled away from him, staring into his blue eyes. “I mean, it changes a little. We don’t really know what it means.”

“I’m fairly certain it means I’m going to protect you both. Which was always the plan.”

“But if Aeris is bad, why do something good?”

He shook his head. “I can’t think on an empty stomach.”

I smiled. “Good thing you’re a professional sandwich maker now.”

He stepped away to finish making his snack that was definitely the size of a full meal. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“They say my father is dying.”

The words hit me harder than I expected. I remembered Aldus’s kindness, the way he’d tried to protect me when we’d been imprisoned together. “How long?”

“I’m not sure. Tuck says he hasn’t left his bed.” Archer methodically arranged cheese slices as if they held answers. “I don’t know what to do.”

I hopped up to sit on the counter beside his work. “Talk it through with me. What’s holding you back?”

“If I go there, they’ll try to force me to be the heir. I don’t know the first thing about being royal. I can barely remember which fork to use at dinner.” He laid down another piece of cheese with careful precision. “That was always Harlow’s domain. And what if they won’t let me leave? What if I get trapped in that life?”

“I’d never let that happen if that wasn’t your choice, Archer.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you and I aren’t getting a lot of say about how things pan out around here.”

“I might have an ace in my pocket now.”

He whipped around with a mock gasp, knife in hand. “You’re sleeping with theenemy?”

I rolled my eyes. “Calm down, Toes. No one is talking about sex here. But I do think Thorne’s actually on our team.”

“Listen, I’m not saying you’re wrong. But I’m also not sure I can trust that’s your choice and not some kind of manipulation.”

“See these tattoos?” I asked, as I raised the loose sleeve of my robe. “These are my Remnants, like Alastor’s but not. They speak into my mind and they hate him more than anything.” My mind was filled with the potency of their hatred. Not only for Thorne, but for me too. “If I was going to be manipulated, it would have been by them, I can promise you that.” I snagged a slice of bread and nibbled while I told him everything. Alastor’s training. The meeting he’d had. The madness. The Forgotten. I stood in that kitchen and poured my heart into explaining whyThorne’s return was my choice. Even if it didn’t make sense. “We can’t live in the past, Archer. We have to move on. We can do it together, but I think there could be something good that comes from seeing your father. I won’t push you though. I’ll support whatever you decide and everyone else can fuck off. That’s our mantra now. That’s how we survive. Together.”

He set his knife down, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he dipped his chin, blond hair falling over his eyes. “Okay. I can handle together. Though I’m not sure what good will come from visiting a stranger in an old castle.”

“How about something like closure. Like not having to wonder for the rest of your life what he might have said. He’s been kind to the Salt, you know. And he’s been sending food to the orphans.”

“Through Tuck, probably,” Archer muttered, but I could see him considering it.

“Maybe this is your chance to understand that part of yourself without having to commit to it. You could hear him out, see all your options, and still choose your own path.”

“That family bond…” he said quietly. “Even if it’s broken, it still aches sometimes.”

“Better to face it than regret not trying. And hey, maybe you’ll discover you have a natural talent for wearing fancy crowns.”

He snorted. “I’m handsome. Of course I have that talent.”

A small voice came from the doorway, “Did you make mine?”

We both turned to see Quill standing there in her nightgown, rubbing sleep from her eyes with one hand as she held her dog in the other.

“Of course I did, Pencil.” Archer’s face softened as he gestured to a carefully wrapped sandwich on the counter. “Only cheese, exactly how you like it.” He looked down to his wrist, checking the time on a watch that didn’t exist. “You’re five minutes late, you know?”

“Midnight snacks aren’t specific to a time,” she informed him, setting Boo down. She padded over, climbing onto the chair at the table. “Are you going to see your papa?”