Ian nodded stiffly in agreement.
“How are you?” he asked, testing the arrow against the string. “How is Father?” As the words left his mouth, Ian already wanted to take them back. While he was constantly concerned about the state of his father’s health, Robin’s recent revelation had made him angry. Angry over his father’s actions.
Onric, unaware of Ian’s internal thoughts, answered quickly and quietly. “He is the same. His leg appears to be healing now, having gotten through the week where everything appears worse before it starts getting better. But he has not opened his eyes or woken from sleep.”
Ian realized with relief that he was still equally as concerned over his father’s health. The anger was new, but it did not negate the concern. “And Mother?” he asked.
The horn blew twice, signaling the start of the round.
“She sits by his bed at all times,” Onric replied. “Erich and I relieve her as often as we can, but you know how stubborn she can be.”
Ian lifted his bow. The other archers were taking their time, likely feeling the pressure of this final round and wanting to draw out the excited entertainment for the gathered crowd. Ian welcomed the slowness—all the more time to talk with his brother.
The crowd cheered.
Ian turned to see that Onric’s shot had landed in the center ring.
Onric lifted an arm and smiled to the cheering people.
Ian kept his face hidden, remembering that he was highly visible because of where he was standing. He lifted his own bow and pretended to focus on his first shot. He had no intention of making it into the final round after this one, but he needed to at least pretend to try.
“Gareth visits Father every day,” Onric said as he leaned down to pick another arrow. “He asks about his health with so much concern you could almost believe that he cares.”
Ian exhaled and released his second shot. The third ring.
“The entire city is enamored with him,” Onric continued. “The hero who has already saved us from a Majis attack, who will save us from the future attacks. The people love him for it.”
“They clearly love you, though,” Ian said, risking a look at his brother as he nocked another arrow. “Let us not cede that kind of power too quickly.” Ian found that he believed the words.
“They still love you as well,” Onric said. “Although they are rightly confused at the moment.”
Ian drew back his bowstring. He had never doubted that the people of Iseldis loved him and his family. He had always believed that his father acted justly toward their subjects and that the people in turn loved and respected him for it.
He let his arrow fly. Second ring.
“Thank you for the gold you sent with Ashlin,” Ian said, resting his bow on his boot for a moment to rest his muscles. “That was generous.”
“Let me know whatever you need for whatever you are planning,” Onric said. “With Father out and you gone, the treasury is entirely under my command. Gareth does not quite have full oversight ofallthe castle dealings yet.”
“It was for Robin,” Ian said. “I am still working on the plan. Shedding blood to take back the castle is too high a price when fear still rules the minds of the people.”
“I agree,” Onric replied, shooting his next arrow. It hit the second ring. The crowd still cheered as loudly as they had the first time.
Ian grinned to himself. Of course they did.
They each had three remaining arrows to shoot. As much as he wanted to talk about Robin and River’s Talon and ask about Erich and Ashlin and the other people at the castle who made up his family, they needed to use their last few moments together wisely.
“What is Gareth’s next move?” Ian asked. “Have you been able to learn anything about his plans?”
Onric shook his head while considering the arrows in his quiver. “For someone who is so loud, he keeps his plans very quiet.”
Ian selected his next arrow. He looked up and down the field at the targets he could see clearly, trying to guess what ring he should hit in order to remove himself from the competition without being too obvious. Judging by his opponents’ skill, he needed to focus on rings three and four, but he was not quite as confident in his shots as Robin was.
“He does send a courier to the monastery every evening after he has talked to his own close advisors, though,” Onric said.
Ian lifted his head. This was information they could work with. “Is the courier carrying written information? That should be easy to intercept.”
“It is often written,” Onric said. “But, the couriers take a different route every night to avoid being caught by ‘the thieves that run rampant in Iseldis.’ Gareth’s words, not mine.”
