The arrow landed a good six feet away from the butt.
Fenice pursed her lips while I rubbed the stinging spot on my forearm.
“Hurt yourself?” Vandal asked, displaying what I felt was obnoxiously faux innocence.
“Just a little string slap,” I growled, locking another arrow onto the bow.
“Comes from hyperextending your arm, doesn’t it? I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Fenice do that.”
“Oh, shut it,” I snapped, then realized I was being rude to my boss. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Yes, it was an amateur move, and yes, I know better than to swing my arm around so that the string smacks it. I was just being a smarty-pants, but I’ve learned my lesson.”
Vandal grinned at me. “And I apologize as well. I shouldn’t rag you the way I do Fen.”
I took a deep breath, pulled the string back to my cheek, sighted the target, then held my breath for the count of three before releasing the arrow.
“Now, that’s what I’m talking about,” I said, doing a little fist pump when the arrow (just barely) hit the bull’s-eye.
“That’s not dead center,” Fenice said critically.
“No, but surely it’s good enough to teach tourists how to shoot,” I argued.
“It is, but there’s a little matter of Fight Knight at the end of our three weeks,” Vandal said.
“What’s that?” I asked.
Fenice turned to him, her eyes wide. “You didn’t!”
He nodded, smiling. “I did.”
“You got approval to hold it? It’s sanctioned and everything?”
“I did, and it is. That’s why I was late coming back today—I met with the council and got their approval.”
Fenice whooped and flung her good arm around her brother, giving him a loud kiss on the cheek. “I forgive you everything but that time when I was five and you locked me in a cupboard and wouldn’t let me out until I ate the horse’s mash.”
“To answer your question, dear lady,” Vandal said when Fenice released him, “Fight Knight is a competition held every year. Medieval combat troupes take turns hosting it, and this year, the club who was supposed to be doing so had to give it up when they imploded with political drama over the embezzlement of club funds. Since it’s at short notice, the overseeing council said that we could have it here at Bestwood. It’s quite the feather in our cap, since Hard Day’s Knights is a new venture.”
“I wish Walker and Pepper were here. They’d be so proud,” Fenice said, then explained to me, “We’re also part of a jousting troupe called Three Dog Knights. The leader of the group and his wife are in Australia to do a bunch of tourneys there. We would have gone with them, but we wanted to start up the melee combat troupe to supplement the jousting team, so we stayed here, and now my brilliant brother has gotten us the plum to end all plums!” She kissed him again and did a little jig of happiness.
“That’s very cool, but I don’t see—oh, you do not think I’m going to compete, do you?” I gestured with the bow to the arrow sticking out of the ground. “I toldyou I wasn’t competition level. Teaching tourists is about as far as I could go.”
“You have three weeks to practice,” Fenice said, grimacing when she moved her shoulder. “And if you can’t do it, then you can’t do it. It won’t be the end of the world if we don’t have someone competing. I wish my shoulder would be ready by then, but I wouldn’t be able to draw properly, not with Eloise.”
“Isn’t it like a conflict of interest to be competing when you’re hosting as well?” I asked.
“Only if we supplied the judging team, but they have already been booked and paid for by the group who crashed and burned. So Fenice, Alec, and I are all free to compete.”
“Alec?” I glanced around, but didn’t see anyone else.
“He’s our armorer,” Fenice said, taking back her bow and the quiver. “He doesn’t actually create armor for our students, but he makes whatever adjustments he can so that the collection of armor Patrick brought back from France will work with various body sizes.”
“Alec comes in tomorrow morning,” Vandal added, waving at the stable as we headed toward the drive, where a battered white van was parked. “You’ll meet him then. But in the meantime, we have a bunch of armor to unload, ladies, and little time to do it. I want everything set up so that we’ll be ready for the first students in the morning.”
“About that... I was supposed to be taking registrations and helping ladies dress up—”
Fenice stopped me before I could finish my question. “We’ll switch jobs. Or what would have been my job if I hadn’t cocked up my arm. You can do the archerygroups, and I’ll handle the women who want to playact they’re medieval damsels in distress.”
“You don’t sound very approving of that aspect of your business,” I said carefully, not wanting to be judgmental.
