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Foalan waved his hand and the bow burst into feathers before it could make its flight. “My queen,” Foalan said flatly. “Kindly cease trying to assassinate our king.”
“No!”
Foalan sighed. “Lady Ana, you’re doing well. You just need to maintain your stance, and then take a breath before you release. It will help steady your aim.”
“Why must I learn to use a bow and arrow?” I asked. “I take no issue with weapons training, but why this weapon? Can’t I begin with a sword or dagger?” I looked right at the smirking Alisdair when I said that.
The man had me plucked from the village, but not for more map-memorization. Aeris brought me straight to the snow-covered training yard, and Foalan.
Orblights did their best to light the field, but there wasn’t much to illuminate. Snow six inches deep covered my boots. Three yards before me were the targets. On my left side, faeriken soldiers sparred and trained with each other. On my right, Alisdair leaned against the stone yard fence, testing how quickly Foalan could take away my arrows before they pierced his skull.
“The bow is the best weapon against the Taken,” Foalan explained. “Taken are foul, unnatural creatures born from dark magics we can’t comprehend. They have a strange, deadly effect on those they draw near—filling them with irrational terror.”
I shivered, swallowing hard.
“It’s hard to think, let alone fight close combat when your every instinct is screaming at you to run. That’s why you’ll fight with the bow, my queen,” he said. “You’ll kill them before they get close.”
I just nodded. I wasn’t expecting such a good reason, and that was the best. Killing those horrible things before they closed in on me was most certainly what I preferred to do.
“What are they?” I asked softly.
“I don’t know. They aren’t beget by”—he gestured to his wolf face—“or we wouldn’t be able to speak of them. But they don’t exist anywhere but this land, so we’d be a fool to believe they aren’t related.” He shook his head. “Maybe they’re what’s borne of a broken heart.”
“Have you given up already?” Alisdair called, setting my teeth on edge. “Well, at least watching you flailing around, shooting arrows at the ground, was entertaining.”
“Cease your blathering, beast,” I barked, “or get over here and help me. You and I both know I can’t learn properly when my instructor isn’t allowed to touch me.”
“Very well.” Alisdair hopped over the fence. “Regard me.”
“Wait, what?”
“Foalan, you’re dismissed.” Alisdair grasped my waist and I spun—gasping to find myself crushed to his chest and tucked under his chin. “I fear you’ll regret this, little bird. I’m not nearly so forgiving an instructor as Foalan.”
“You fear nothing,” I said, hating the desperate look I threw at Foalan’s back. “Least of all giving me regrets.”
His chuckle rumbled against my back. “To begin, point your feet away from the target.” We moved as one. Nudging his leg between mine, Alisdair moved my feet shoulder width apart. “Relax,” he ordered. “You’re tensing up before you’ve even touched the bow.”
I sent the call for my muscles to relax, but they didn’t obey. Alisdair had never been this close to me without fucking me senseless, or protecting me from getting pummeled. To have his body pressed to mine in a benign situation, wasn’t one mine understood.
“You’re both pulling back too far, and holding on to the bow too long,” he said. “You’re tiring yourself out before you’ve released, and then the force of it knocks you off-balance.”
I found myself nodding along. What he was saying made sense. “What do I do, then?”
“Relax,” he murmured. “Only pull back to the corner of your mouth, and then release. Don’t hesitate. Don’t overthink. Just let go.”
Nodding, I lifted the bow and—
“Stop,” Alisdair broke in. “You’re overextending.”
He reached out and laid his hand over mine—touch surprisingly cold. Surprisingly gentle. His other slid around my waist, moving me back into the proper position... pressed against his middle.
“You want your elbow slightly bent,” he said, pulling my mind out of rushing thoughts. “Now draw back, anchor to your mouth, and—”
I let go, a small cry leaving me as the arrow sailed away.
Thwack!
The tip burrowed into the target off-center. Very off-center, but it hit the target.
