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PROLOGUE
V.D.B. estate, September 15, 2019
Dan
I can feelthe breeze through the holes in my sweater; it’s crispy and the smell of leaves pinwheeling down from the trees around the Van Den Bosch estate overwhelms me. Had I been standing still, I might have even caught a chill, but as I move across the terrace opposite Andries, he's actually pushing me hard enough that I’m breaking a sweat.
Despite being outside, the only thing that can be heard is our loud breaths, footsteps, and the occasional blades colliding. Andries might be smiling, but there is always this edge of seriousness to him that permeates everything he does—including the playful fencing match the two of us are currently engaged in. I can see it in the line of concentration between his eyebrows and the exhales of frustration when I best him.
“Fuck,” Andries mutters under his breath as I win against him once again.
“That wasn’t too bad,” I tease, walking slowly back toward him. “You even made me sweat a bit.”
Losing against me isn’t out of the ordinary for my friend. After all, I’m five years older and have much more experience in fencing than him. All in all, it’s a beautiful day to have a few playful matches outside. The sun is shining and there aren’t any obligations looming over my shoulders.
Andries’s mom, Julia, is sipping coffee at the terrace dining table, caught between reading what seems to be paperwork and watching the two of us.
“Let’s start again,” Andries says, his excitement matching his expression as he puts himself in position.
“Very well.” I do the same, but when he’s about to strike, he pauses mid-move, holding up his hand to tell me to halt, but I playfully poke him with the foil anyway. He scowls, one of his most common expressions, and waves me away.
“Knock it off,” he grumbles, turning fully to the railing overlooking the rest of the property as if something caught his attention. Their estate is massive; green rolling hills give way to wild forests full of fauna that are rarely seen on the more manicured estates about these parts.
Curious, I follow him to the railing and meet where his gaze is locked, foil hanging limply in my hand. I can see two figures emerging from the forest; one, the hulking frame of Sebastian Van Den Bosch, and the other, more slight and willowy. She carries the same “I own the world” strut that Andries has been perfecting over the years, albeit unconsciously.
Another Van den Bosch, then.
As they get closer, it’s clear that it’s Sebastian and a young woman, and both are holding dispatched pheasants by the feet in one hand with shotguns slung over the shoulders.
“Who is it, dear?” Julia asks.
“Dad and Elise are back from hunting,” Andries replies, shivering as he says so. I know all about the story of Andries balking during his first hunt when he was only twelve years oldand the way it traumatized him, so I keep my mouth shut. At least it’s only birds they’re bringing back.
The second name that rolls off his lips catches my attention, though.
Elise.
I know very little about her. All I know is that she’s the second oldest of the children, just under Andries. I’ve only ever caught fleeting glances of her running through the halls of the Van den Bosch manor, dark blonde hair escaping some prissy style in rebellious little ringlets. Even when I join the family on their summer vacations, they’d always have an excuse for why their eldest daughter wasn’t around. Apparently, Elise preferred to spend her summers at equestrian camps instead of lounging on beaches. Part of me respected that, but the other part of me wondered how she could so easily give up that time with her family. The mysterious sister is a teen, after all, so it wasn’t odd that her decisions made little sense.
Andries raises his hand to wave at them, and they each raise a hand back in greeting. Both father and daughter are dressed in olive green hunting gear, their leather boots fastened above the pants. I know Sebastian well, so my attention is stuck on Elise. I feel my interest pique as she gets closer. She looks like Julia, which comes as no surprise, but her hair is darker at the roots and her finely boned features have that almost sulky, overcast vibe about them. Andries has this as well, but with him it makes him look pouty and like the tortured poet he so longs to be, Elise looks sharp and focused.
The hunting gear doesn’t give me much more information about her body, and for that, I’m thankful. Running through the math in my head, I determine that Elise is entirely too young for me to take any sort of interest in. I sneak a guilty look at Andries, but thankfully, he’s paying me no mind.
“We’ll be right up!” Sebastian booms once the pair is directly beneath us. Andries gives him a thumbs up in response and turns back to me.
“Ready to pick up where we left off?”
“You mean me defeating you in one fell swoop?” I quip, and Andries rolls his eyes. It’s a startlingly immature gesture that makes me laugh. Sometimes I forget just how young he really is. He might be only sixteen, but he’s already got the height that will follow him into adulthood. Standing well over six feet, and in his bulky sweater, I can’t see the narrowness of his shoulders that gives away his youth, along with the softness still present in his face. Once he comes fully into adulthood, poor broody Andries will undoubtedly be a lady killer, whether he likes it or not.
“En garde,” Andries says to get my mind back on track, assuming the position. With a smirk, I do the same, and our fencing commences.
Eventually, Elise and Sebastian make their way out onto the terrace. Sebastian leans down to kiss Julia while Elise strips off the green hunting jacket, festooned with numerous buttons and pockets, moving to hang it on the back of one of the chairs. Underneath she wears a skin-tight moisture wicking athletic shirt, a long sleeve, and a mock turtleneck over the top. I shouldn’t be distracted. I don’t want to be distracted, but damn… I’m still a man.
My brain knows she's young. Younger than Andries by a year, I believe, and the knowledge helps to keep my more debauched thoughts at bay. I have enough of a leash on myself that whatever I’m feeling toward that young lady leans heavily on fascination. Because she is, undoubtedly, fascinating.
Muscle memory keeps me on even ground with Andries, but I manage to turn him around so his back is to his family and I can see everyone now in my line of vision seated at the table. Elise has her chair leaned back, balanced on the back two legs,watching me just as intently as the two adults she’s sitting with. Where Andries always has that touch of sadness about him, his sister has smugness. Her gaze tells me she isn’t impressed by the show, but the novelty of it is enough to keep her engaged for the moment.
It’s just a friendly match between Andries and me, but I’m well aware the five years I have over him put me at an advantage. It’s why I don’t mind zoning out a little bit; we’re using blunted blades anyway. His sister is holding her hands up now and pulling off a pair of supple leather gloves finger by finger, tossing them on the table in front of her and then wiggling her bare hands to stretch them out. There’s a spot of pheasant blood on her white sleeve, and it causes something primal to stir deep inside me. She’s a huntress—Artemis, trapped in some nobleman's daughter.
