Page 167 of Evermore

“But I want you to know,” Archer was saying, “that crown or no crown, title or no title, I stand with you. The borders between our cities mean nothing compared to the bonds between our people.”

A cheer rose from the crowd, surprising in its intensity. Archer raised a hand, quieting them. “I can’t promise to solve everything. I can’t make the gods leave, or bring back what you’ve lost. But I can promise this: you will not face these challenges alone.”

Another cheer, louder this time. I felt my shoulders tense, the Remnants swirling across my skin responding to my rising anxiety. I focused on keeping my breathing even, my expression placid.

They’ll turn on you both when they discover the truth, Winter whispered.When they see what you are.

Poison in a crown, Sylvie added.You’ll destroy everything he’s building.

A faint tremor ran through me, and I locked my knees to keep from swaying. Archer shot me a concerned glance, and panic flared through me. Had he noticed?

Before I could reassure him, Tuck materialized at my side, his broad frame somehow managing to appear casual despite the tension radiating from him.

“Steady now, Your Highness,” he murmured, only loud enough for me to hear. “Breathe through it.”

What it must have been like for him and Minerva to stand with us now, in a den of mortals denouncing the gods, I didn’t know. But they’d never left us. Not once. And truly, none in this crowd knew their nature. No one questioned the little old ladyand the burly, bearded man that stood with us. This was simply our family and nothing more.

I nodded mechanically, focusing on drawing air into my lungs without letting my struggle show. In. Out. Like Thorne had taught me during those quiet nights when the voices grew too loud. I kept my eyes fixed straight ahead, afraid to look at the faces in the crowd, afraid they’d see the battle raging behind my eyes.

“You’re doing remarkably well. Considerably better than I’d have expected, given everything.”

“Is that supposed to be comforting?” I whispered, as Archer continued addressing the crowd. I barely moved my lips.

Tuck’s mouth curled upward. “Since when do you need comfort?”

He sees the weakness in you, a voice hissed.

“Since apparently I’m one bad day away from completely losing my mind.” I struggled to keep my voice low, to keep my face neutral. A woman in the crowd glanced my way, and I immediately fixed my features into a benign smile, terrified she’d somehow heard me.

“Aren’t we all? Though I suppose in your case, it’s rather more literal.”

A short laugh escaped. I quickly disguised it as a cough, covering my mouth with my hand. Tuck had always had a talent for cutting through pretense, for stating the unbearable so plainly it became almost manageable.

Archer had finished speaking, and was moving among the crowd, clasping hands, listening to concerns with a sincerity that couldn’t be faked. The gathered people surged around him, a strange mix of deference and familiarity in their interactions. He had always been good at this, at making people feel heard, valued. It was why, despite his reluctance, he was the right choice to wear the crown.

“He’s remarkable,” Tuck observed, following my gaze.

“He is.” I kept my voice deliberately level, my hands clasped in front of me.

“And you’re worried you’ll ruin it.”

“Stop knowing shit, Tuck. It’s annoying.”

“God of Knowledge, remember?” He tapped his temple with one finger. “Though in this case, it doesn’t take divine insight. It’s written all over your face.”

“I hate to admit this, but I think I hate the spotlight right now,” I whispered as Archer looked back at me for the third time, a beaming smile on his face. My heart ached with pride, but my soul thrummed with fear.

“Then let’s head back to the castle, Huntress. This feels like a security nightmare as it is and if something happens while Thorne’s away, he’s going to have my ass anyway.”

“Still no word from him?” I asked for the third or fourth time since he’d been gone.

“Nothing yet. I’m giving him another day and then going after him myself. The Fates can be vicious bastards, less so now than before they were bound, but he’s reckless when it comes to you.”

“You’re gripping it all wrong,”Tuck growled, his massive hands engulfing Archer’s as he adjusted his hold on the axe handle. “Loose in the fingers, tight in the palm. It’s not a damn teacup.”

The castle gardens provided ample space for impromptu weapons training. The overgrown hedges and messy flower beds seemed in tune with Tuck’s rough instruction. Archer had brought in gardeners after he saw how much Quill loved thespace, but they were new and several of them had fled after witnessing Archer’s previous attempts, which had sent an axe sailing into a prized rosebush.

“It is absolutely nothing like a teacup,” Archer muttered, readjusting his stance for what must have been the twentieth time. “I’ve held plenty of those successfully.”