I wince aggressively. “I’m not convinced I’m supposed to be grateful for something described as abranding. You framed that horribly, by the way.”
Archie rolls his eyes so hard I hear it in my soul. “That isnothow I described it. You’re being dramatic.”
“Says the animal who tried to get stuck in a vending machine so I wouldn’t make it to NightShade,” I toss back at him with a saucy grin.
“One has nothing to do with the other,” he assures me.
I scoop him up, pulling him into a cuddle. He pretends to resist but doesn’t actually fight. His fur is soft beneathmy hands, warm and grounding. The kind of comfort that I’ve been starving for.
“I’ve missed you,” I murmur into his neck. “Maybe more than anyone else. But don’t tell the others.”
His cold nose nudges my cheek. “Trust me,” he whispers dryly, “I value my life too much to repeat that. At least in front of Cade.”
I pull back just enough to inspect him. His eyes are bright again, sharp and mischievous instead of the dull glassiness they’d carried once he realized I was okay and was able to calm. His fur fluffs beneath my fingers the moment I run my hand up his back, a sure sign he’s feeling smug and dramatic, which is normal for him. Blessedly normal.
“You’re really okay?” I ask quietly.
Archie flicks his tail with the offended air of a Victorian widow. “Rowan. I slept for two days straight. You have since fed me, bathed me, and snuggled me to near death this afternoon. I am, tragically, alive.”
“Tragically?”
“Well,” he sniffs, “Ididspend two entire weeks stomping around the wilderness like Cujo. One could argue I deserve a medal. Or at the very least, an expensive treat. Something jerky-adjacent.”
I grin, brushing a thumb behind his ear. “I’m pretty sure I still have some of your chicken sticks in my bag.”
He hisses and tries to wiggle out of my hold. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
“Yes, I’d say you’re perfectly normal once again.” I get up to open the closet. “I’m happy to feed the beast.”
“Better than normal,” he preens, following me. “Back to being your superior protector. Cade might not like it,but I’ve held that title for over sixteen years. He can take that away from me over my dead body.”
A laugh bursts out of me—quiet but genuine. “Good. Because I don’t know what I’d do without you. But just to be sure, let’s not fill him in on that either, okay?”
His gaze softens—only a fraction, because he’s still Archie. “What about you? You managed well enough in that castle, didn’t you?”
“Better than you’d expect,” I say as I walk into the closet and find my old duffel bag tucked into the corner. “You’d have been proud of how I pushed Malrik’s buttons. Any thought of filtering myself was only a dream he wished for.” I only have to dig for a few seconds to find what I’m looking for. “Though things only got better once you came barreling into that cave like a furry battering ram.”
He lifts his chin proudly. “I do enjoy my dramatic entrances.”
I hold up his bag of treats, and the joy I get seeing him stand on his back legs with his front paws held at his chest makes me feel like I’ve just been transported back to Montana, to the days when I didn’t know this fur-monster could talk and explode in size.
“I love you, Archibald,” I say as I hand him one of the sticks.
His tiny claws briefly grip my finger. “And I love you.”
Before I can get too mushy, a firm knock sounds at the door.
Archie stiffens—not in alarm, but mild annoyance that his snack time has likely been interrupted.
“It’s Cade,” I murmur, already sensing his increasingly familiar warmth through the bond.
The door opens a breath later, and Cade steps inside, gaze softening the instant it lands on me.
“She’s here,” he says quietly.
My stomach drops. “The witch?”
He nods once. “She’s set up downstairs. Said she’s ready whenever you are.”
