Seven
Elowen settled back into her seat in the special section of the stands dedicated for her use. The public luncheon to mark the first day of the tournament was over, and the afternoon events were about to begin. She watched the archers in the first group lining up, each sporting a beautifully carved wooden bow likely worth more than most of the morning’s competitors made in a year. She fully expected the court competitions to be tedious compared to the fun and chaos of the commoners’ events. The pig races she was especially looking forward to.
Her eyes found Theo in the line, his figure upright and calm, showing no hint of either nerves or excitement, unlike many of his fellows. She noticed that a lot of the other competitors appeared to be young and a little awed.
“Do you know if His Highness is skilled in archery?”
Elowen took a moment before responding, hating the coldness that crept over her. She’d arranged ahead of time for her friend to accompany her, afraid of being a spectacle all alone in her box whenever her family members had other duties. But after the events at the dam, she wasn’t deriving much comfort from Sophia’s presence.
“I don’t,” she said. “But I suppose we’re about to find out.”
Her eyes glazed over as the first archer took aim at the target, her interest not captured by the near-stranger who was the son of some minor noble. She wasn’t sure what to make of Theo. He was so cool and inexpressive most of the time. But when she’d been in danger in that flood, she’d seen real warmth and emotion, in spite of how calm he’d remained.
And she’d certainly seen emotion when Bertrand had so successfully humiliated her in front of Theo. Better not to dwell on that.
Was his cold manner a mask, covering a warm heart in some misguided attempt to protect his pride? No, she shouldn’t assume him to be anything more than what he showed himself to be. If he was trying to present a stoic, unemotional front, surely he wouldn’t admit to refraining from the jousting out of sympathy for the horses. She was no stranger to the type of bravado the younger members of her father’s court sometimes assumed in their attempts to impress her. And it couldn’t be further removed from the calm, unashamed way Theo had owned to an attitude of gentleness and protectiveness toward animals. Was he warm but acting stiff? Cold but acting gentle? Depressing new thought—warm toward only horses, just not her?
She was back where she started, unable to figure him out.
“He’s next,” Sophia commented, pulling Elowen from her thoughts.
Her eyes followed Theo as he stepped up and took his mark. She was too far away for a good view, but she could imagine the muscles in his arms straining as he pulled back the bowstring.
Thud.
His arrow found its mark, near the center of the bullseye. Elowen clapped politely along with the crowd. He’d clearly been trained in archery, as he seemed to have good form, but shedidn’t see any sign of elite skill. To be fair, he didn’t need it in this round. Even with the target so close, many of the others missed it altogether, or only reached the outer ring.
“I think he’ll win this round,” Sophia said, her voice encouraging.
“Probably,” Elowen agreed. She could feel her friend looking at her uncertainly, and she hurried on. “How are things back at your family’s estate? Your parents must be distressed.”
“We’re all distressed,” Sophia said heavily, and she certainly looked it. Her eyes roamed over the crowd, aimless and anxious. “Many families are suffering, and it will get worse before it gets better. We won’t be able to resolve everyone’s situation.”
“The crown will help,” Elowen said quickly.
“I know.” Sophia’s smile was grateful. “It’s just…well, we’re all feeling the tension.”
She didn’t seem eager to elaborate, and Elowen’s forehead creased in a frown. But before she could press for answers, Sophia redirected the conversation.
“Not many made it through to the next target,” she commented. “I think Prince Theo will be shooting again soon.”
“Yes.” Elowen saw that she was right. Theo was behind only one other archer, flexing his bow experimentally as he waited for his turn on the longer target.
“How are you feeling about all of…” Sophia waved her hand vaguely toward Theo. “That?”
Elowen shrugged. “Fine.”
She could feel her friend’s confusion at the non-answer.
“Do you have much of a sense of what he’s like? He’s not very expressive, is he?”
“It’s too soon for me to know him well enough to comment on what he’s like,” Elowen said.
“But do you like him?” Sophia pressed. “So far, I mean?”
Elowen shrugged. “That’s a meaningless question, isn’t it?”
“I don’t think it’s meaningless whether you like your future husband,” Sophia said, with a flash of spirit. “You really don’t feel like you know anything about him?”
