Astin reached out and tugged her hood up, then looked in the direction of the empty butts, wishing he could take back the things he had said to her. ‘Harlan will handle your family. I’ll handle the pitchforks.’
Laughter came out on an exhale. ‘Thank you.’ She licked rain off her lips and glanced in the direction of the castle.
‘Still want to go to the butts?’ he asked.
She brought her red hands to her mouth and blew into them. ‘I’m guessing the king will still practice if it’s raining?’
‘He will if he has an audience.’
She took hold of her wet skirts once more. ‘Then I shall be his audience.’
Thirty minutes they had been waiting in the rain for King Borin to grace them with his presence. Lyndal’s eyes kept returning to Astin, who was watching their surroundings with a serious expression. If someone did appear with a pitchfork, he looked ready.
At least he was no longer angry at her.
Her eyes went to the archery supplies that had been brought out in preparation for the king’s arrival. ‘Do you suppose I could have a turn while we wait?’
Astin looked in her direction with a surprised expression. ‘Do you even know how to shoot?’
‘I’m a Suttone. What do you think?’
The bodyguard wandered over and collected the long bow and a handful of arrows. ‘If the king shows up, we were under attack.’
‘Got it.’ She blew into her icy hands, trying to get some blood circulation happening, then took the bow from him. He handed her one of the arrows and watched her load it. ‘It’s been a while.’
‘And here come the excuses.’
She pressed her lips together to stop from smiling, then took aim at the mound at the far end of the muddy lawn. Upon release, she winced. It had made the distance but missed the target completely.
Astin chuckled behind her.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘So I’m a little out of practice.’
He stepped up and handed her another arrow. ‘A little? Did you notice the targets at the end?’
With a roll of her eyes, she loaded the bow and took aim once more.
‘Wait,’ he said, moving behind her. He hooked two fingers under her elbow, lifting. ‘Don’t let it drop.’ His other hand went around her to the riser, adjusting her grip.
She watched his callused hand move over hers, hoping he did not notice the change in her breath at him being so close. She released the arrow, this time grazing the edge of the target.
‘Better,’ he said, arms falling away.
She turned. ‘I would be much better if my hands were warm.’
‘Really?’ Taking the bow from her, he placed it on the ground and took both her hands in his. ‘Let’s test that theory, shall we?’
He rubbed her hands between his rough ones for a full minute, then brought them to his mouth. Warm breath engulfed her skin, making goosebumps break out on her arms.
‘Try now,’ he said, letting go and picking up the bow for her.
Her cheeks were hot against the rain as she met his turbulent stare. She had always read that expression as annoyance, inconvenience, impatience. But none of those things fit with the situation they found themselves in.
‘I was hoping the rain might ease,’ the king called to them.
Lyndal jumped, and Astin stepped back. Thankfully, he still had hold of the bow.
‘Goodness,’ Borin said, stopping in front of Lyndal. Two defenders flanked him. ‘You look like a drowned rat.’
