Page 113 of Quiver

Despite giving her every reason to walk away in those early days, Fletcher had chosen to set a different tone. She’d slowly let Kylie back in, then worked and sweat and bled with her for six weeks. The gratitude surging through her now was nearly too much to bear, so she set it free by giving it voice in the world. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

She motioned for the crowd to settle, and they obeyed.

“I know some of you are here because you know us, and I thank you for believing in me. Some of you came to see a movie star, and I thank you for still thinking I fit that bill. Some of you are even here because you didn’t believe I could do my own stunts.” She gave a brief nod to Sophia and Talia. “I hope I made your trip worthwhile, but at the end of the day, I’m only playing a part or participating in a beloved hobby, and you deserve better. No, you all deserve the best. Luckily for you, the best happens to be standing beside me right now.”

Fletcher started to back away, but Kylie caught her by the sleeve and held fast. “Fletcher Bouchard is the Northeast’s leading expert in horse archery. She’s a competitor of the highest degree. She’s a passionate teacher and an all-out disciple of the sport, or as she likes to remind us, the combat sport. Folks, we’re in the presence of true greatness.” The crowd began to rev once more as she stoked their excitement. “The very vanguard of a resurgence in an ancient art, a woman with the power to blend grace, style, raw power, and deadly force at vision-blurring speed. We have a world champion in our midst!”

Cheers broke forth again and still her voice rose. “Fletcher isn’t merely a local treasure. She’s a global powerhouse whose stock is set only to rise, and you don’t have to take my word for it, because you’re present to witness her greatness firsthand.”

Right on cue, Ava stepped forward holding Gabrielle’s reins.

Fletcher gave the crowd a short wave and swung into the saddle.

Kylie eyed her muscular form as it flexed and urged the horse into action, moving through her paces the way one might work through the gears on a finely-tuned sports car. Bex held out her bow, and Fletcher scooped it up as she passed, already in a full canter around the ring. Then, reaching the apex, she turned and nudged Gabrielle into a gallop. She rose in the stirrups, body completely still and steady as she rocketed through the arena. Her hands moved so fast it was hard to make out the fine motor moves it took to grab an arrow, draw, and shoot. Still, there was no doubting the results as each one struck the target with a reverberating thump of force unlike any they’d heard so far, but Fletcher didn’t stop there.

Wheeling Gabrielle around for another pass, she reset without touching the reins. It was a feat most of the spectators couldn’t possibly have understood, but Kylie marveled at the skill, balance, and discipline. She also grew a little dizzy remembering the muscles along Fletcher’s sides and the way she’d traced them with her mouth.

Fletcher went again, three shots, three thuds, three hits, giving her six perfect bull’s-eyes in little more time than Kylie had taken to hit three of them. The crowd applauded, stamped their feet, and whistled their approval, but Fletcher didn’t so much as break a smile. Her eyes smoldered as they locked with Kylie’s, and she nodded upward.

She glanced at the cymbal above their heads and winked at Fletcher, then turned back to the audience as Gabrielle trotted back into the barn. “Everyone, please, please, can I have your full attention?”

The noise began to die down, but she needed more. More from them, more from herself, always more. “If you can grant me complete silence, I promise you a feat of horse archery perfection.”

The crowd fell quiet, all eyes on Kylie as she held a finger to her lips for dramatic effect, then stage-whispered into the microphone. “Fletcher has already given us a dramatic show of speed and accuracy, but now she’s given me permission to share one more showpiece, a special treat in return for the favor you’ve shown us today.”

She paused, letting the tension build, but also drawing out this moment to remember it, to hold it close, to memorize the feel of a time when she and Fletcher still shared a common goal and drive. “Above me you’ll see a cymbal high in the rafters, no bigger than an average dinner plate. To hit a target of that size at an overhead angle while at top speed is an achievement of the highest order, and my friends, it’s exactly what Fletcher will attempt to do. For the sake of safety and concentration, I ask you to remain entirely still and silent until the cymbal is struck and both horse and rider are safely out the other side of the arena.”

She glanced around, checking nods of agreement to make sure they appeared properly enthralled. Ava and Bex clutched hands tightly. Mimi was biting her expensively manicured nails. Ryder had gone so pale he didn’t even have the wherewithal to glare at her. Even the great Sophia LeBlanc leaned forward in anticipation.

They were ready.

Undoubtedly, Fletcher was ready.

Only Kylie held back, suspended, chest tight in something other than anticipation. She hadn’t even been this keyed up for her own run. That had never felt like the pinnacle for her, not the way this did, not the way Fletcher always had.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she choked on the cue she was supposed to give. Absolutely unable to summon the strength or voice necessary to trigger the final act, her body and her brain rebelled against the idea of a grand finale for either of them. She didn’t know how long she might’ve stayed frozen in her uncharacteristic indecision if the paralysis hadn’t been disrupted by the echo of rapid hoofbeats.

“No.” She whispered the word, a prayer in the fury of an unstoppable storm as Fletcher exploded into the arena. Gabrielle broke into a full run as sand flew and Fletcher drew, the arc of her bow and the arc of her body taut. The arrow sizzled through the silently heavy air and snapped sharp, a metallic clang followed by a rich, resonant vibration rattling through the hollow space around it and into Kylie’s chest.

Fletcher and Gabrielle were already outside by the time the arrow hit the ground, and everyone around Kylie jumped to their feet. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she recognized they were losing their minds, but she could barely hear over the realization she’d lost her heart. It felt so unfair, as she’d only recently learned to use it again.

She stared at the open door, waiting, holding her breath once more, until Fletcher appeared, backlit and beautiful against the sun and snow, then swung slowly from the saddle and smiled at her with a sad finality.

Kylie’s shoulder pitched forward as she nearly doubled over in a rush of grief at the expression that said goodbye as much as any word ever had.

Fletcher held her gaze until she reached the center of the ring, then turned to acknowledge her friends and neighbors with a little bow. Slipping the microphone gently from Kylie’s fingers, she thanked people for coming, and perhaps made some announcement about upcoming classes, but Kylie heard the words dampened and distorted as one might make out something said underwater. She did her best to plaster a stage smile on her own face while drowning, but as the crowd began to disperse, she reached for the same hand that always pulled her to safety.

Fletcher turned toward her and, seeming to finally sense her sinking, caught hold of her shoulders, holding her up if not quite close enough. “Kye.”

She nodded.

“It’s over.”

She didn’t argue the blunt assertion.

“You’re crashing,” Fletcher said softly. “It happens after a big event, but you’ve got one more scene.”

She shook her head, not understanding.