“What kind of threat?” she asked.
Archer shrugged a shoulder. “It sounded like a screeching cat to me, but your guards seemed to feel differently.” One corner of his mouth slowly tugged up into an almost smile. In that second, his entire face changed. He’d been handsome before, but now there something almost uncomfortable about how beautiful he was.
But Evangeline didn’t want to think him beautiful at all. She had a feeling he was making fun of her, or that his smile was part of a private joke that she was not privy to.
She scowled.
This only made him grin wider. Which was worse. He had dimples. Unfair dimples. Dimples were supposed to be sweet, but she sensed this guard was anything except for that.
Evangeline asked herself one last time if it was wise to go with him. But then she decided not to answer the question. Because the truth was, she wanted to go with him. Maybe she was still delirious from her fall down the well or from lack of sleep, or maybe something besides her heart had been broken during the time she couldn’t remember.
“Have we met before?” she asked. “Do I know you?”
“No. I don’t usually play with things that easily break.” He uncrossed his arms and shoved off the wall.
Archer moved through the castle like a thief, his steps elegant and quick as he darted through halls and rounded corners. It was difficult to keep up in the ridiculously full skirt he’d tossed at her.
“Hurry it up, Princess.”
“Where are we going?” she asked when she finally caught up with him at the bottom of a set of stairs.
She was slightly winded, while he looked almost bored as he lazily opened a door that led outside.
Evangeline hugged her arms to her chest as a burst of frigid air blew past her. “It’s freezing out there.”
Archer smirked. “You don’t get to choose the weather when someone attacks you.”
“Is that why you gave me such impractical clothes?”
His only answer was another frustrating smirk before he started down the path into the dark.
The air was even colder when Evangeline stepped outside after him. It must have been an hour shy of sunrise. The night was as black as a well of ink, save for the intermittent lampposts that lined the garden path, revealing large pools of water on either side.
He’d taken her to the Water Garden.
She could hear the bubbling fountains and tumbling waterfalls in the distance. In the day she imagined it was rather whimsical, but right now, during the darkest, coldest part of the night, all she could think about was how it would feel if she fell into those waters. She doubted any of them were as deep as the well she’d almost died in the day before. Yet for a second, she couldn’t move.
“Come on, Princess,” called Archer.
But he was too far ahead for her to see him. Evangeline felt nervous once again, remembering what had happened the last time she’d lost a guard.
All she could hear now was the quick sound of steps.
After an anxious second, she followed the sound. It led her to a rickety suspension bridge. It was the sort she would have loved as child, made of old wood and rope and probably more than a dash of recklessness, as it felt wildly unstable. If she’d had a coin her pocket, she would have tossed it in the rushing river below and said a quiet prayer for safe passage.
She could hear the water smash against the rocks. But she couldn’t hear Archer’s steps.
“Archer?” she called.
No one answered.
Had he lost her on purpose? She didn’t want to believe that. She had known following him was a bad idea, and yet deep down, she’d hoped it was a good one.
But maybe it was time to head back to the castle.
The bridge wobbled beneath her as she turned around. Then cold arms suddenly wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her sides.
“Don’t scream,” Archer whispered into her ear, “or I’ll toss you off this bridge.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she gasped.
“You want to test me, Princess? Because I would dare to do even more.”
He easily dragged her toward the side of the bridge and bent her forward over the meager rope railing until her hair was dangling above the water rushing below. Evangeline had a feeling that even if she didn’t scream, he still might throw her over just to watch her fall.
“Are you mad?” She wriggled against him.
He laughed under his breath. “You’ll have to do better than that.”
“I thought you were supposed to teach me what to do!”
“I want to see if you know anything first.” He leaned over her back until his mouth was right at her ear. She thought she felt his teeth, nipping her as he spoke.
Her heartbeat pounded faster. Clearly he was mad after all.
She tried to butt his head with hers.
He quickly pulled back. “Easy to dodge.”
She stomped, aiming for his foot, but all that did was rock the rickety bridge.
“I’m starting to feel as if you don’t want to escape.” He definitely nipped her ear this time, teeth sharp as they scraped her skin. She wondered if he liked to hurt everyone, or if it was just her. Something about this was starting to feel personal. Although the nip of teeth at her ear didn’t hurt so much as it unsettled her.
“Do you want me to toss you over the edge?” he taunted.
“Of course not!” she yelled.
“Then why aren’t you fighting?” He sounded angry.
“I’m trying my best.”
“And I’m not, which means you need to try harder. Kick me.”
Evangeline gritted her teeth and kicked backward. She aimed between his legs, but only managed to ruffle the back of her ridiculous skirt.
“Good job, Princess.”
“Are you mocking me?”
“Not this time. You made me adjust my stance. Any kick like that and most assailants will bring their legs closer together. This allows you to change your position. Step out with your right leg,” he commanded. “Then move your left leg so that it’s behind me.”
“What will that do?”
“Just do it. I’m not letting you go until you’ve earned it.” Archer tightened his cold arms as a raindrop fell, followed by another and another. Within seconds her thin shirt was soaked. So was his. She could feel it clinging to her back in the places that her vest didn’t cover as he continued to tighten his grip until it almost hurt.
Evangeline finally did as he had told her. She stepped to the right with one leg, then moved the other behind him. He was right. It shifted her position, but it seemed only to further entwine them.
“Now grab me,” he ordered.
“My arms are pinned!”
“But your hands are free.”
They were, but she still felt hesitant to grab him.
“Do it,” he repeated, “then use your hip to leverage my weight and flip me over.”
Archer held her tighter. He banded one arm firmly around her ribs, the other he circled just below her waist, almost on her hips, his fingers splayed in a way that felt less like he wanted to restrain her and more like he just wanted to touch her—to hold her on that bridge in the dark where it was only the two of them and the rain and the feel of too many heartbeats racing between them.
Finally she grabbed his legs. Everything was wet and slick. Her fingers slipped against his leathers as the bridge rocked.