It is easy to let her mind slip to a gentler place in his presence, and it is unsettling to think that she might let her guard down for a pretty face, even for just a moment. It is a staggering reminder that she is not quite as strong as she might like to be, hadn't trained her mind or her feelings as well as she'd once thought. She'd thought Vaughan had crushed her ability to lust so readily over someone when he'd failed to protect her from aunt Morrigan; now, leaned into the cushion of her couch trying not to wince from pain, she feels the familiar stir of hungry desire, a hard knot in her abdomen.

It is easy to get lost in the sea of blue that are Archer's eyes when there is nothing but his eyes anchoring her through the pain. She closes her own to shut him out, hoping he hadn't caught her staring through her gritted teeth and sharp breathing.

She feels confident that he hadn't noticed when he speaks again, an off comment about her healing abilities that she nods an agreement with, the corners of her mouth twisting into a pained smile. "Might've been better if we didn't heal so quickly, then we wouldn't be playing doctor with my kneecaps," she quips, chuckling darkly.

When he speaks again, she frowns, allowing a silence to lapse between them. His talk of vanity reminds her once again of prince Vaughan, of the way he'd tricked her so easily into believing that he might follow her anywhere. Such a pretty face, but she couldn't help hating him for his choices, even if they were, technically, the safer option. She'd always thought him so daring, a fighter and yet when it had come down to it, he'd taken the safe path, the path that split them indefinitely.

She wouldn't allow Archer to walk away from her, no matter the cost. She needed him, needed a knight if she were to shake up the world with enough force to send a tremble through the world of Fairy.

When she pulls her knees up, wiping the blood away and questioning Archer about his age, her mind is a million miles away - on another set of blue eyes, much colder than those of the man sitting in front of her. When he answers, her eyes widen in mock surprise, her face still a masterful depiction of ease and grace despite the raging war inside of her head. "Well. I feel like a wee little babe," she says, giggling into the back of her hand.

"You can sit on the couch, you know," she mentions, glancing toward the seat next to her pointedly. "I won't bite. In fact, I've got a bit of a proposition for you, if you'll hear me out. I think it will serve us both well."

Perhaps she should've waited to broach the subject of the oath, but every second that goes by is like a clock ticking away her freedom. She couldn't run forever. Best to armor up and fight before the sand ran out of her hourglass.

She tells herself that someday, Archer will understand why she had to use him like this. It is a lie, but she allows herself to believe that he won't hate her when he knows the truth.

Then, she realizes that she shouldn't care at all. Her physical desire for him was doing a number on her, making her think such strange thoughts.