The first shot snaps hard off my bow, and I’m glad for my bracer. I haven’t shot in days. The arrow strikes the target a few inches left of center. I wince and nock another, aiming farther down the range. This one hits closer to center, sticking hard.Better.
At my back, the soldiers are silent.
I take a slow breath. My third target is long range, but I take my time, and I’m rewarded when the arrow hits the bull’s-eye. For the fourth, I choose one of the hanging panels, waving gently in the wind, easily as far as Kutter’s shots. The arrow cracks right into the center.
I turn to find the soldiers staring at me. Kutter gives a low whistle and claps three times. Sephran punches me in the shoulder. “Nice shooting, Archer.”
That makes me blush.
Trapp looks at Sephran. “Was he a soldier?” he asks, as if I’m not right there and can’t attempt to understand these simple words. “In Syhl Shallow?”
“No,” I say. I hook my bow over my shoulder, then take my crutches and push to standing. “Blacksmith.”
Fowler is still staring at me, like I’ve tricked them all somehow. “But—buthow?” he demands.
Lord Tycho, I want to say, but that feels too heavy, too personal. Too much of an attachment to someone who is far above my station.
Instead, I pull another arrow out of my quiver and run a finger along the fletching, then nod at Kutter and Sephran. “Short,” I say, repeating their lesson from last week. I smile, then shrug. “Good in wind.”
Sephran laughs. “I like you, Jax.”
My blush goes nowhere. I like them, too.
CHAPTER 25
JAX
I don’t return to the Shield House until late, when the sky sparkles with the first stars of the evening, and the sun is a distant memory. I expect that Molly and Lola have gone to bed, but I’m hopeful I can forage for some fruit or a few scraps left in the kitchen. After a long day in the forge, shooting with the soldiers and riding with the recruits has left me exhausted. My bow and quiver feel heavy where they crisscross my chest, and I practically lumber up the steps to the Shield House.
I don’t care. My heart feels lighter for the first time indays.
But then I step inside and find Prince Rhen.
He’s sitting with Master Garson at one of the tables, and they fall silent when I enter. Two guards stand along the wall at their backs.
They’re waiting for me. I don’t know how I know, but I do.
A million thoughts flash through my brain at once, and I’m frozen in place. I called that soldier an asshole, but I didn’t think he heard me. Did he complain? I remember yelling at Sephran, too, how Master Garson looked over. Did the other blacksmiths say something aboutme? Surely none of this would be enough to involve theprince. But maybe it is. Am I going to lose my position?
Or . . . ?will it be something worse? A sudden chill grips my spine, and my fingers go slick on my crutches. I know what kinds of things Prince Rhen is capable of. People used to talk about the vicious queen in Syhl Shallow, but I’ve heard enough stories to doubt that things are any better here.
I know Tycho trusts this man. Maybe that should matter, but itdoesn’t. Too many years of living with my father’s cruelty have hardened me, because I can’t seem tolookat Rhen without thinking of what he’s done.
Even now, I can’t. The image of Tycho’s scars flickers in my thoughts, and a quick knife of fury slices through me.
Prince Rhen evaluates me, then speaks slowly in Syssalah. “I do not think anyone has ever looked at me with quite this combination of anger and fear.”
Warmth crawls up my throat, and I glance away. I wish I could strip the emotion from my face, but it’s clear that I can’t.
I still haven’t moved from the doorway. “Forgive me, Your Highness.”
“I wasn’t looking for an apology. But perhaps . . . ?an explanation.”
Master Garson looks at him and says something, but Prince Rhen’s gaze doesn’t leave mine. “Garson wants to know if he should give us some privacy. Or would you rather he stay?”
I have no idea how to answer that. Every muscle in my body is so tight. My gaze flicks to the guards along the wall and then back to the men sitting at the table.
Prince Rhen watches this, and his one eye narrows. “Exactly why do you think I’m here?”
