Page 28 of Pippa of Lauramore
“We’re not doing lessons today. You’re going to help me find Galinor.”
His eyes narrow. “I don’t think so.”
I bristle and stand a little taller. I will find Galinor, and it will work better if Archer helps me.
“It’s your fault I wasn’t free to see Galinor before he left.”
“Pippa, we have already discussed that,” he says, his voice on the edge of irritated.
This isn’t working. We’ll just argue if I push it, and I don’t want to fight with him right now. I hold up my hands. “Come with me.”
He sighs. “Where’s Anna?”
I shrug and examine one of his finished arrows. “I don’t know. She told me to go to my lessons this morning, and I haven’t seen her since.”
“Disappearing—it’s a family trait.” He plucks the arrow from my hands, still testy from the scare I gave him.
I raise an eyebrow and cock my head. “Come on. Even if we don’t find Galinor, a ride will be fun. How many chances do you think we have left?”
He glances at the ceiling, undecided, and I notice a stray eyelash near his eye.
“Hold still.” I step forward to brush it away.
Archer freezes as I attempt to remove it.
“It’s being difficult,” I murmur. The eyelash falls to his cheek, and I step closer, humming with frustration. I place one hand on his shoulder to keep him still. Finally, I capture it on my finger. Holding it out, I say, “There. Make a wish.”
His muscles tense under my hand, and I know he’s irritated with my fussing. His blue-green eyes meet mine, and his expression changes—darkens. His lips part slightly, drawing my eyes to them. My mouth goes dry, and I swallow. We are rather close.
Archer clears his throat and steps back, and I’m left feeling slightly off kilter. He turns away, clearing the mess from his project. “If I tell you no, you’ll go into the forest anyway, won’t you?”
“Of course.” I try to laugh, but it comes out weak. I scan a wall of knives as I wait for him, wondering where I would carry one. I choose one and test its weight.
He looks over his shoulder, his expression as neutral as usual. “All right. I’ll go.”
“Really?” I ask, turning back to him.
Archer eyes the blade in my hand.
“How uncomfortable would it be to carry this in my boot?” I ask.
“With your luck, you’d slice your leg,” he says. “Leave it for now. I’ll make you a belt and sheath.”
I narrow my eyes, lean down, and slide the cold steel next to my calf. He’s right. I’ll probably stab myself before the day is over.
“Stubborn,” he says under his breath. “Take off your boot.”
“What are you going to do to it?”
He leans down and slowly pulls the knife out. After he sets it aside, he tugs off my boot, sending me off balance. Trying to steady myself, I grab his shoulders. “Archer!”
He glances up, smirking. “I’ll stitch a sleeve in it. It will only take a few minutes.”
I hop backward and wait on the bench.
It takes more than a few minutes—more like half an hour.
“Finished,” he finally says, admiring his work. He’s stitched a piece of leather to the inside leg of my boot. Now I can slide the knife safely in it without maiming myself.
