I made a little jabbing motion toward the archery butts. “Bull’s-eye? Anyone?” I gave a mental sigh, and upped the wattage in my smile. “Right, enough levity. Shall we get started?”
The morning flew by faster than I had thought it would. The year I’d spent instructing high school students was enough to get me over the hump of how to explain the art of the bow and arrow to newcomers. The first three sessions whipped past, after which I trotted to the shed to relieve Fenice from her dress-up duties.
There I found a gaggle of older ladies, a handful of teenage girls, and a couple of kids who were pulling everything out of tubs that Fenice had set aside for when other items had become worn or damaged. I directed the ladies to the section of lockers that Vandal had bought from some salvage yard, got the older women into full-length dresses, the teens into skirts and peasant tops, and the kids into tunics and hats, along with their plastic replica weapon of choice.
“Is there jousting?” the mom of one of the more obnoxious boys asked. The kid whacked me on the shin with his plastic sword, and ran screaming bloody murder out of the shed. “Tibby does love jousting. We saw it last year, and he was just crazy for us to get him a horse.”
“Samantha wants to shoot a bow and arrow. Do you teach that?” the second mom asked, nodding toward her daughter, who was wearing a tiara and a gauzy, Princess Elsa fromFrozenrip-off dress while galloping after her sword-wielding buddy.
“I am the archery instructor, yes, but we do not allow children to participate for insurance reasons,” I said, sending thanks to Fenice that she had nixed Vandal’s idea to include kids in the lessons. “Adults only, I’m afraid.”
“What a shame,” the woman said, and hurried off to collect her child when she got in an argument about an antler battle horn that was meant to be an accessory for another outfit.
Fenice returned not long after that. “The caterer is here. It’s your choice of egg and tomato sandwich, or salmon paste sandwich.”
“Ah. Both sound delightful,” I lied, “but you know, I think I’ll just trot up to the house and grab a quick something if you don’t mind.”
She shrugged. “It makes no difference to me. Just be back in half an hour. You have another class at two, and then if you could help Patrick with the arming, that would be lovely.”
“Arming?” I asked, handing over the cashbox used to store the rental fees.
“Helping pull off the armor that’s been damaged, and replace it with fresh stuff. Alec is already busy repairing the damaged plate, and Patrick said he could use a hand since today’s melee group are a bit mace-happy.”
“Not a problem,” I said, and trotted off to the house, my mind divided between wondering what Alden was up to and what I could scrounge up for lunch in my allotted time.
“Lunch first, then Alden... Oh, hello.” I stopped at the entrance of the kitchen, pleased to see Alden standing on a chair, a screwdriver in one hand, and a light fixture in another. He was clad in a black T-shirt and a knee-length pair of walking shorts. I admired his calves(slightly hairy with nice bulgy muscles) before asking, “Decided to start here, did you?”
“No.”
I watched him a moment. He kept shooting me little glances that made me think he was feeling shy again.
“What are you doing?” I asked, giving him a supportive smile.
“The light... it stopped working. It...” He shrugged.
I wondered if I’d get tired of helping him overcome his shyness. I decided, as I reached out and stroked the bare part of his leg, that I wouldn’t.
He almost jumped off the chair. “What are you doing?”
“Getting you annoyed or aroused enough so that you’ll talk to me without feeling weird. The choice of which emotion to go with is yours.”
He made a face. “I’m not a child who needs soothing, Mercy.”
“Of course you aren’t. But you have to admit, you get downright chatty when I touch you.”
“That’s because I like you touching me.”
“Good.” I gave his calf another stroke, then leaned against the counter to watch him.
Silence filled the kitchen for about three minutes.
“It doesn’t like me.”
“The light?” I asked, my smutty thoughts about what I’d like to do with Alden evaporating.
“No, the house. I think it’s depressed.”
“Huh?” I hoisted myself onto the counter, and watched him work while he screwed in the fixture. I liked the way his shirt moved over his back and arms.
