Page 179 of Evermore

“It was working.” His hand pressed more firmly against my lower back as he guided me around an imaginary obstacle. “You ruined their therapy.”

As the dance continued, I followed stiffly, too caught up in the voices to surrender. But Archer was persistent, his steps sure and steady, his gaze never leaving mine.

“Focus on me,” he said quietly. “Just me. Not them.”

I tried, concentrating on the rhythm of our steps, the warmth of his hand at my waist, the solid reality of him against the chaos in my mind. The friend. The man that stood before me, loving me beyond reason. Steadfast and humble. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the voices faded into the background.

“Eyes on me, Fingers. I’ve got you. You’ll never fall.”

We moved across the ballroom, our shadows stretching and contracting in the moonlight. The dance became easier with each turn, each step bringing me more fully back into myself.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

The half quirk of his smile made my heart ache. “Always.”

“I’m worried I’ve already fallen.”

Archer’s hand tightened slightly on my waist. “Then I’ll catch you. I’ll always catch you, Paesha. I promised, remember?”

I did remember. The night after we’d discovered the truth about the Treeis bond, he had held my hands and sworn he’d never let me fall.

“I know.” I leaned my forehead against his shoulder. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with me.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. “I would have chosen this. Family doesn’t abandon family. Not ever. And especially not when things get hard.”

He spun me away from him, yanked me back, and dipped me dramatically. Then froze and looked me dead in the eyes as he stepped away, throwing his hands in the air and spinning around like a wild man, wiggling his hips and losing all sense of any type of dance I’d ever known.

I laughed. He laughed. And then I joined him. Letting everything go. Spinning and spinning and laughing as he ran and slid across the floor, then spun and bowed as if he’d just performed the greatest dance of all time.

“I can see you’re jealous,” he said. “Obviously, I’m the better dancer, but we can work on your skills. I’ll knit and you practice dancing. Eventually you’ll figure it out.”

I walked over and shoved his chest. “You’re the worst.”

“You mean the best. It’s okay. It’s a hard word.”

I reached up and messed up his already wild hair. “I think you’re my favorite husband.”

He threw an arm over my shoulder. “Dibs on telling Thorne. For fun.”

“Can’t wait to watch him sulk about it,” I teased.

He laughed, smoothing a hand over his chest. “He’s an excellent sulker.”

This man who’d lost so much, who’d never wanted the crown he now wore, had chosen to stand beside me through darkness and madness and pain. Not because of destiny or prophecy, but because his heart was too big to do anything else. He’d brought me back to the light again. As was his power. Minerva was wrong. He wasn’t the shield. He was the light in the darkness. My light.

A high-pitched giggle followed by the scamper of claws on marble interrupted our dance. We both turned toward the sound as the patter of small feet approached down the hall.

“Sounds like someone else is awake. Want to bet Quill’s chasing the dog again?”

“No bet. That’s exactly what’s happening. We should probably make sure she doesn’t wake the entire castle.”

Archer nodded, offering his arm with exaggerated formality. “Shall we, Your Highness?”

I rolled my eyes but took his arm. “Lead on, Your Majesty.”

We followed the sounds of muffled giggles and excited yipping through the castle, down winding corridors lit by moonlight streaming through tall windows. The trail led us to a set of glass doors standing ajar, opening onto the gardens.

“She’s not supposed to be out there alone at night,” I whispered, quickening my pace.