“You know what? I think I will.” He stood, straightening his jacket. “Let me change into something less… kingly. Meet me at the side gate in an hour?”
She shrugged. “As long as I don’t have to change too.”
After he left, Archer stayed quiet for a moment, staring at his plate with an unreadable expression.
“You okay?” I asked softly.
He looked up, and the smile that spread across his face was genuine. “Yeah… I’m glad I gave him a chance. To be the father I always hoped he could be.” He shook his head slightly. “I hate that everyone was right.”
“Not everyone,” I said, remembering how careful we’d all been not to push him. “We just wanted you to have the choice.”
“Choice is a funny thing.” Thea reached for the bread basket. “Sometimes the hardest part is admitting you want something you’ve spent so long convincing yourself you didn’t need.”
Archer’s eyes met mine across the table, understanding passing between us. We both knew something about walls built from old hurts, about the courage it took to let them fall.
“Well,” he said, leaning back in his chair with that familiar roguish grin as he wiggled his eyebrows at me. “At least I still have my stunning good looks, a hoard of carriages to break, and all this charm to fall back on if this whole prince thing doesn’t work out.”
I threw a napkin at his head. “And your modesty. Don’t forget that. Highly recommend breaking all the carriages though.”
An hour later, we were in the market, watching as Quill tugged on the king’s sleeve. She covered her mouth with her hand as she whispered loud enough for everyone to hear. “You can’t just pay what they ask. You have to haggle.”
“Haggle?” Aldus looked genuinely puzzled as he stood before the fruit vendor’s stall. “But the price seems fair.”
“That’s not the point,” Quill explained with exaggerated patience. “It’s part of the experience. Watch.” She turned to the vendor with her hands on her hips. “Three coin for these oranges? They’re barely bigger than walnuts!”
Archer tensed beside me as another crowd of people pushed past us. He scanned the rooftops, the alleyways, everywhere but the charming scene of his father learning to barter with a child as his teacher.
“Something’s wrong,” he muttered, his hand drifting to the knife at his belt.
I followed his gaze but saw nothing obvious. “What is it?”
“Not sure. Just feels… off.” He shifted closer to me, positioning himself between our group and the wider market. “Where’s Thorne? He should be here.”
“I convinced him to try to make peace with Minerva.” I watched as Quill gestured dramatically. “She can’t ignore him forever.”
“Want to bet?” But Archer’s attempt at humor fell flat as his eyes locked on to something in the crowd. “There are too many people here today. Too many hoods up despite the heat.”
He was right. Now that he’d pointed it out, I could feel it too, that crawling sensation between my shoulder blades that meant we were being watched.
“Should we leave?”
“Not yet. Don’t want to spook them.” His voice dropped lower. “But get ready to move if I give the signal.”
Ahead of us, Aldus was laughing as Quill successfully negotiated the price of fruit down to two coin, her face beaming with pride. The king looked happier than I’d ever seen him, completely unaware of the tension building around us.
“At least someone’s having fun,” Archer said. “Though I have to admit, watching my father learn market economics from a child is pretty entertaining.”
“She’s a good teacher.”
“She’s something.” His hand brushed mine, a silent warning as another hooded figure passed too close. “Next time we take my father shopping, let’s stick to Perth. We can keep him disguised over there.”
“Agreed,” I said, watching as Quill dragged Aldus toward a stall selling colorful scarves.
“Archer Bramwell,” a smooth voice called out.
My heart stuttered as Willard emerged from the crowd, his perfectly tailored jacket and carefully styled hair marking him as belonging here far more than we did. He held out a hand to Archer, who took it after only the slightest hesitation.
“What brings you to the Silk market? Thought you preferred the company of less tasteful wares. The Salt not good enough for you now that you’ve moved in on the title? Who knew your mother was so… spirited.”
