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The three drew arrows and lined up their next shots, waiting for Ruslan’s command to fire. A hush fell over the crowd in eager anticipation of who would be eliminated that round. The twang of the bowstrings releasing filled the air a moment before three arrows thudded into the bales of hay, all three in the dark center. Not a drop of sweat graced Liliana’s brow as she notched another arrow, her seafoam green eyes trained down the range and chest proud as she held her bow steady. Ruslan’s command fell again, and High Lord Tukka’s arrow went a little too wide, knocking him out of the competition. He bowed to the other contestants, then joined King Consort Geza and Gozzak a few paces behind the others.
Liliana and Artur locked eyes before returning their attention to the targets down range. Drawing a deep breath, Liliana returned to her starting position, seeming to block out the world around her as she waited for the next call.
Come on, Liliana.
They shot five perfect shots in a row, and the tension in the crowd was as taught as their bowstrings as they lined up for their sixth, both black centers nearly blotted out from fletching. I held my breath as they drew, then closed my eyes as they released, too anxious to watch the arrows fly. The roar of the crowd snapped them open, and Liliana leaped into the air with a squeal. Darting my gaze down range, I saw Artur’s arrow inthe white space alongside his other arrows, making Liliana the winner of the archery competition.
“Let’s go, Zuriel!” I exclaimed, tugging on his arm as I pushed through the crowd toward my friend, who was on her way to the stage where she would receive her prize. Endre, Viktor, and Vadim emerged from the crowd, joining Liliana in her celebration, and I jogged to catch up with them.
“I knew you would win!” I grinned, embracing my friend when she broke apart from Endre.
“Me too,” she laughed, dropping my arms before arching an eyebrow as she noticed the male behind me.
“Oh my Goddess, you’re just as bad as Vadim,” I teased, low enough that Zuriel couldn’t hear me.
“You must introduce me later,” she whispered, before Endre tugged on her arm, snatching her attention.
My blood heated, and I whipped my head around to find Ruslan a few paces away on the platform, holding a shiny black box tied off with a silky gray bow. His smoky eyes glittered when he saw me, and my body relaxed as he neared. “Hold the box for me while I present the prize?”
“Absolutely.” I had to tip my head all the way back to look up at him, and for a moment it was only us among the mountains, with the wind pulling at the loose strands of my braid and ghosting across the fur that peeked out from our jackets.
Zuriel cleared his throat, breaking the trance, and Ruslan grabbed my hand, leading me toward the front of the wooden platform. Ruslan handed me the box before turning to face his people.
“Lady Liliana Arzeni has won this year’s archery contest! It is my honor to present her with a prize,” he lifted the lid from the box with a flourish, “a hand-crafted bow made from the lightest metal in the Iron Realm.”
My jaw dropped at the beautiful metalwork that lay among sheets of soft velvet in the box. When Liliana lifted it, the sun caught the tiny gemstones encrusted on the sides, inlaid in an intricate filigree that was nearly transparent. With how light the box was, I would have never guessed that inside lay a beautiful bow. Liliana tugged on the string, watching the bow flex as easily as any wooden one. “It is an honor, King Ruslan.” Liliana sketched a quick bow, and the crowd cheered at her victory.
“This concludes the day’s events, and I wish you all a nice evening of celebration,” Ruslan boomed over the crowd, dismissing everyone with a wave of his hand. We remained on the stage while people began reclaiming their horses and trekking back to Radence.
The Nighthounds, minus Kazimir, joined us on the platform. Vadim took the bow from Liliana, assessing it thoroughly, turning it over in his hands, and testing its movement and lightness. “This craftsmanship is like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
“And it's all mine, brother,” she teased, snatching it from his probing fingers.
“You won’t even let me fire it once? I am the one who taught you how to shoot after all,” he grumbled, smoothing his beard with his hand.
“The student has become the master,” she shrugged, and I bit my lip to hide a snicker.
Ruslan’s hand found the small of my back and I leaned into his touch, feeling both of us relax with the physical connection. Endre and Viktor’s eyes darted to Ruslan’s disappearing hand, and something flashed in both their eyes that I couldn’t quite read. Tuning into that flame-wrapped crystal in my chest, I pushed my magic toward them, trying to discern their emotions. Mine were so frayed that I needed to know what they were feeling, and yet I was still afraid of what I would find.
A swirling mix of anger, guilt, and anxiety bled from both of them, though what drove each emotion, I could not decipher. I had hardly spoken to my friends since they arrived in the Iron Realm, and this chasm between the Night Realm and myself was growing deeper with each passing moment of awkwardness that went unacknowledged. It was clear they had not found what they were expecting when they rode upon Ryza Citadel, and now none of us knew how to proceed.
Where was Kazimir?
As if he heard his name in my head, he appeared at the bottom of the platform, looking up at those of us gathered above him. His emerald eyes collided with mine for only a moment before moving on to Liliana. “Congrats, Liliana,” he said. “Your shots were excellent. You make the Night Realm proud.”
She flicked her braid over her shoulder. “I know. You are all lucky to have me.” That earned a chuckle from the males on the stage, including Ruslan, Drazen, and Zuriel. It struck me then that every person I cared about was gathered in the small space, and yet I felt so lonely, unmoored and adrift in my anxiety.
The scattering of my friends reflected my feelings, too. The Nighthounds gathered on the opposite side of the wooden planks, while Liliana stood proudly on her own in the middle, though a hair closer to where Ruslan, Drazen, Zuriel, and myself stood. It was a perfect metaphor for the feelings rising from the people around me, and I choked on my breath as I opened myself up to the collective tension of the group.
Was there any way to repair the rift and bring peace?
Or would choosing one side over the other only end in war?
11
Béke Day Three
Why did I go to Steel again last night?
