“True,” Elowen acknowledged, still forcing a falsely pleasant voice. “Maybe we should instead use magic in the court events, to secretly help our favorites win.”
“Elowen, please don’t.”
Sophia’s anxiety made Elowen turn and properly look at her for the first time since she’d scolded her.
“Sophia, I’m obviously joking. What’s going on with you? I know you’ve never been a big risk-taker, but when did you becomethisfearful about getting in trouble?”
Sophia twisted her hands in her skirt, her expression troubled. “I think I’ve been careless in the past,” she confessed. “I’m realizing much later in life than I should have that when I make mistakes, it impacts others as well as myself.”
“What do you mean?” Elowen demanded, sure her friend was speaking of something specific. She took Sophia’s arm and drewher down onto an empty stretch of bench on the bottom row of the stands, thoughts of leaving before the crowd forgotten.
It was evident that Sophia didn’t want to answer, and a moment later her face lit in recognition as she looked over Elowen’s shoulder.
Elowen turned, finding no pleasure at the sight of the young man striding toward them. Bertrand might be unknowingly rescuing his sister from a conversation she didn’t want to have, but he was never a welcome addition as far as Elowen was concerned. Instead of sitting next to his sister, he placed himself on the empty bench beside Elowen.
“Do I dare to hope that you beautiful ladies watched my performance in the archery with bated breath?”
“No,” said Elowen petulantly. “I was watching His Highness, actually.”
“Were you?” Bertrand’s carefully raised eyebrow perfectly expressed his contempt. And how did your fair prince perform?”
“Naturally, he won,” said Elowen.
Her words seemed to amuse rather than discourage Bertrand. He laid his arm along the next level of the stands, which served as a backrest for their bench. Elowen inched forward discreetly, not eager to feel his arm against her shoulders. He was sitting much too close.
“Did he indeed?” Bertrand’s gaze was faintly malicious as it slid from Elowen’s face to the field in front of them.
With a jolt, Elowen realized that Theo was coming off the field. She suddenly understood that Bertrand’s approach, and his overly familiar manner, were strategically planned for the moment when Theo would walk past. The prince’s eyes fell on the three of them, and while he didn’t do anything as unguarded as frown—after all, that would require emotion—Elowen saw the way his brow set as he took in Bertrand’s proximity.
Trying desperately to soften the image, she hailed Theo, so that politeness forced him to stop and join them. He came to a halt just in front of her, his bow still held in his hand.
“You did well,” Elowen said brightly. “Congratulations on your win.”
“Thank you.”
Theo’s voice was deep, and he held the bow slung across his shoulder in a posture that made him look much less scholarly than usual. Elowen was reminded vividly of the strength of his hand when he’d guided Ochre out of the flood and saved her life.
“Yes, I was just hearing how well you did in the novice cohort, Your Highness.” Bertrand’s voice cut across Elowen’s thoughts, the nobleman still maddeningly relaxed as he leaned back against the stands. Brazenly, he reached forward and twanged Theo’s bowstring. “Not a bad weapon,” he commented. “It almost looks Torrenese-made.”
“You are mistaken,” Theo said, his voice cool and his eyes disdainful.
“On multiple counts,” Elowen interjected in annoyance. “There’s no novice cohort, everyone was spread evenly across the groups. I saw some of the men in your group unable to get their arrow halfway to the target.”
“I thought you said you weren’t watching my group,” Bertrand said, a lazy smile on his face.
Coloring, Elowen turned away, avoiding Theo’s eyes. Bertrand had no call to be so self-satisfied. Lounging back, idle hands empty, he was cast very much in the shade by Theo’s imposing presence, with his upright posture and his impressive bow.
“Such a shame that we don’t get to learn archery, isn’t it, Sophia?” she said, directing her words to the only safe member of the party. “It looks much more fun than jousting or swordplay.”
“If you’re interested to learn, Princess,” Bertrand interjected, “we employ a private archery instructor. You’d be welcome to join me in my lessons at any time.”
A hot retort burned on Elowen’s tongue, but Sophia intervened first.
“Don’t be foolish, Bertrand,” the other girl said with surprising sternness. “I’m sure Elowen would have no need to look outside the castle if she wished for archery instruction.” She stood. “We’re dining with our parents tonight, remember? We should be going.”
Bertrand stood as well, although he showed no sign of being chastened by his sister’s rebuke. With a lingering glance between Elowen and Theo, he strolled away, leaving awkwardness in his wake, as seemed to be his new skill.
Elowen rose to her feet, folding her hands in her skirts in an attempt to appear natural. Theo didn’t break the silence, and she forced herself to look up into his face. He was watching her thoughtfully, maybe even searchingly. If he wanted to get to know her, she wished he would say so, would ask her something that might give shape to all the unformed questions in her own mind.
