A sudden pounding sounded at the door, matching that of his temple.
“Archer?”
River.
Before he could answer, the door burst open, and River froze at the sight of him, all the color draining from her face. She rushed to him immediately, her hands hovering over his head as if shewas trying to decide what to do, as if she feared she would do more damage.
“Och God…Archer!”
River dropped to her knees beside him, hands shaking as she grabbed the blanket from the bed and pressed it against the blood running down his temple in a desperate attempt to stop the flow of it.
“What happened?” she demanded breathlessly. “What happened?”
“Visitor,” Archer mumbled weakly.
River looked around wildly at the destroyed room—the shattered desk, the overturned furniture, the blood on the floor, and her expression shifted into a mask of terror.
“Someone attacked ye?”
Archer nodded once, but quickly stopped, as the mere motion made him nauseous. At least this time, he figured, he still remembered everything—and had even gained some of his old memories back, no matter how unpleasant they were.
“Ye’re bleedin’ too much,” said River.
“I’ve had worse.”
“This isnae the time to pretend ye’re indestructible.”
Despite everything, the sharpness in her voice nearly made him laugh. If this encounter had taught him anything, it was that he was anything but indestructible. Especially now, especially with his memories gone and his body weak from the attacks, defending himself in any way he could had become a priority.
River brushed his damp hair back from his forehead carefully, trying not to disturb the injury. Archer noticed then how frightened she truly was; her breathing came too quickly and her blue eyes shone with panic she was trying desperately to control.
“I woke up because of the noise,” she said. “I thought...I thought . . .”
But she couldn’t finish the sentence.
Archer caught her wrist gently. “I’m alright.”
“Ye can barely sit upright.”
“Still alive.”
“Is this supposed to be a joke?” River asked, exasperated. “Because this surely isnae the time for jokes.”
Before Archer could respond, voices echoed faintly somewhere down the corridor. Perhaps everyone had been alerted by thenoise, and Archer wondered if there was any hope that the guards had caught the attacker. Had they swarmed him in big numbers, they could have gotten him, but that required them to know who he was.
He didn’t keep his hopes up.
“Stay awake,” River ordered, and then she ran from the room.
“Guards!” her voice rang through the halls. “Guards!”
Within moments, the castle erupted into motion. The guards rushed into the room, now knowing the source of the commotion, one of them barking orders to the others to call for Jenson and help the Laird stand.
Archer tried to stand on his own. He didn’t need help; he didn’t need people thinking he needed help. He leaned heavily against the bedframe as dizziness swept through him again, the edges of his vision dimming in and out.
“Search the grounds!” yelled another man. “Seal the east wing! Nae one leaves the castle!”
Soon, though, the noise became overwhelming. Archer shut his eyes firmly, trying to block it out, but the more he tried, the worse his headache seemed to get. A servant appeared briefly behind them before disappearing again, and Archer didn’t know if it was because he moved so quickly or because he was losing time right before his eyes.
