Page 98 of Evermore (The Never Sky #3)

Paesha

M oonlight spilled through the tall windows of the ballroom, casting long silver fingers across the polished floor. I moved through its glow in slow, deliberate steps, my bare feet silent against the cold marble. The vast room echoed with emptiness, yet I wasn’t alone. Never alone.

Dance faster , Winter urged, her form gliding beside me. Your movements are weak.

“They’re mine,” I whispered, continuing my slow waltz with no partner but the shadows. “I decide how I move.”

You’re falling apart , Sylvie taunted from the other side. Soon there’ll be nothing left but us. Let’s play a game. Turn to the right.

“No.”

Yes.

It wasn’t my choice. I spun to the right. “No.”

Delightful.

I closed my eyes, letting my body sway to music only I could hear. “I’m still here.”

For now. Promises break. Like minds. Like souls. Like hearts .

I spun faster, as if I could outrun their voices, their doubts, their cruel certainties. The room tilted and whirled around me, moonlight and shadow blending into a dizzying kaleidoscope.

“I can hold on,” I said, more to myself than to them. “I can?—”

“Paesha?”

I froze mid-spin, nearly losing my balance.

Archer stood in the doorway, his golden hair disheveled, as if he’d run his fingers through it too many times.

He wore simple clothes, loose trousers and a plain white shirt with the sleeves rolled up rather than the formal attire expected of a king. The crown was noticeably absent.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, smoothing down my dress with trembling hands. “Did I wake you?”

He shook his head, stepping into the room. “Couldn’t sleep. Apparently neither could you.”

He sees the madness in you . He’s afraid.

“Stop it,” I muttered.

“The voices?” he asked softly.

I nodded, too exhausted to maintain the pretense.

“What are they saying?”

“The usual. That I’m falling apart. That Thorne will leave again. That you’re afraid of me.” My voice caught on the last words.

Without hesitation, Archer stepped closer and took my hands in his. They were warm and callused, steady against my cold, trembling fingers. “Well, they’re wrong. About all of it.”

“Are they?”

“Absolutely.” He gave my hands a gentle squeeze. “Thorne would walk through fire to get back to you. And as for being afraid of you?” A small, crooked smile touched his lips. “The only thing about you that scares me is how terrifyingly good you are at cards.”

I laughed, unexpected and fragile. “That’s just skill.”

“It’s cheating, is what it is,” he countered, his smile widening. “But I’ve learned to live with the humiliation.”

The voices receded slightly, as if driven back by the simple warmth of his presence, the familiar cadence of our banter. These moments of clarity felt like gifts now, precious and all too fleeting.

“Dance with me,” Archer said suddenly.

“What?”

“Dance with me,” he repeated, already adjusting his grip on my hands, placing one on his shoulder while his other settled at my waist. “It’s better than standing here listening to whatever lies they’re feeding you.”

“There’s no music,” I pointed out.

“Since when has that stopped you? Come on, Fingers. Let me lead for once.”

“Everytime I let you lead, we do something reckless.”

“Exactly. I’m nothing if not predictable. And charming.”

“So humble,” I said, smiling up at him.

“Someone has to carry the torch, Fingers. It’s a tough job, but I’m willing to make the sacrifice.”

“So selfless. Do they give medals for that kind of heroism?”

“They should. I’ve written several strongly worded letters on the subject.” Archer’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “No response yet, but I remain optimistic.”

I snorted. “I didn’t know you could write.”

“I’m a man of many mysteries,” he said, dipping me suddenly. I grabbed his shoulders, heart lurching.

“And zero warning,” I muttered when he pulled me upright.

“Warnings ruin the fun.” He guided me through a series of steps that weren’t quite a waltz, but too coordinated to be random, though he barely missed my toes half the time. “Besides, you’re always ready for anything. It’s your most annoying quality.”

“One of many, I’m sure.”

“Oh no,” he said, his voice softening, making my chest tighten. “Your ability to alphabetize anything in under thirty seconds is much more annoying. Especially when you rearrange my bookshelf.”

“Your ‘system’ was putting the tall books next to short books so they’d ‘feel better about themselves.’”

“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.

“The garden’s completely safe. And Boo’s with her.”

“Boo is approximately the size of a loaf of bread and has the protective instincts of a friendly butterfly.”

Archer laughed. “Fair point.”

We stepped out into the garden, the night air cool against my skin.

The moon hung full and bright overhead, bathing everything in its silvery glow.

It took a moment for our eyes to adjust, but then we spotted Quill in a small clearing surrounded by rose bushes.

She was spinning in circles, her nightgown billowing around her like a cloud as Boo chased his tail beside her.

Archer put a hand on my arm, stopping me before I could call out to her. “Wait. Look at her. She’s happy. So happy I can feel it. Can’t you?”

I hesitated, then nodded, moving back into the shadow of a tall hedge. From our vantage point, we could watch without disturbing her joy. She needed that moment after the council of the gods. We’d all been on edge for days.

Quill continued her dance, her wild curls bouncing with each twirl. She laughed when Boo jumped up, trying to catch the hem of her nightgown, the sound pure and untroubled in a way that had become increasingly rare.

Archer whispered, “She deserves this. Moments where she doesn’t have to worry about gods or kingdoms or bonds.”

“Or me,” I added softly.

He turned to me sharply. “That’s not what I meant.”

“But it’s true. She worries about me. You both do.”

“Because we love you.” He squeezed my hand. “That’s how it works, remember?”