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Ipulled back the string of my bow, feeling the burn in my muscles and breathed. The air escaped my pursed lips, and with a soft twang, I released. A warm glow filled me as I watched the arrow pierce the target, jutting out of its center—then I reached for another.
This. This is who I am.
Not a simpering court flower, head filled with pretty phrases and perfect decorum. I refused to be relegated to a mere ornament to improve the stature of an epicurean man. The very thought made my blood boil. My next shot hit the outer ring, my anger messing with my aim.Moon Maiden, take it!
Centering myself, I reached for the calm that archery always afforded me and drew again.Twang!The arrow joined the other in the center, and I nodded. Out here, with a bow in my hand, I was complete. The worries and cares of the court didn’t bother me here, unless I wished it. I drew another arrow. Out here, I was the master of my own fate.
I sunk into the serenity that archery afforded me as muscle memory took over my actions. My movements flowed as I transitioned between stances, moving through the practice course I had set up, feeling power flow through me as I struck bullseye after bullseye.
This secluded meadow, outside of the castle walls, held many secrets. My skill with the bow among them. Women, especially women of the court, were to be ‘jewels for the eyes’ and never a weapon. I drew back the string and let the soft twittering of the bird’s seep into my soul. The stress of court life and dealing with snobby elite daughters didn’t allow me much time to escape, so I treasure the time I can get away.
My escapes had been few of late. The war with Brural had made sneaking away more difficult. The guards were vigilant, as if a soldier would suddenly appear to slaughter us all. Though, from the letters I’d received from my father fighting on the front lines, the enemy was repeatedly compared to wild beasts. Violent and thirsty for our countrymen’s blood to wet their blades.
No one knew what really started the war nearly five years ago, but I overheard my father talking to another lord about a village close to the border being overrun by twisted creatures. The village was invaded and wiped out, including the women and children. It had long been rumored that King Rusalko had a witch that was blessed by Aagi the dark singer. It was said that she created creatures from man and animal, then released them on her enemies. The Brural King indulged her, trusting that she would defeat all his enemies. They were just stories. Afterall, we’d been embroiled in war with them for the past five years, so if the King did have a witch, she wasn’t very good.
I finished the course, panting, my adrenaline still high. Deciding I still could practice more, I walked over to the targets and gathered my arrows, placing them back in my quiver.
“Arrow!”
The call startled me, and I turned to find my cousin, Will, saunter towards me from between the trees as he entered the meadow.
“The King has summoned you to the throne room.”
Here I thought my day had just started to get better. Being called into the King’s presence was rarely a good sign, so I cast my mind back, trying to remember what I could have done to earn a summon from His Majesty. He couldn’t know of the mouse I set loose in Lady Winifred’s closet, could he?
“Just me?”
Will shook his head, long straw-colored hair flopping over his forehead. “All the young ladies of the inner court,” he answered with an ineffective swipe at his hair.
“Ugh.” And just like that, all the calm I’d been able to gather dissipated like dust in the wind.
My father was born a peasant, but after his adoption by a high-ranking lord, who had no children, he rose swiftly and became one of the King’s most trusted advisors. Honestly, I didn’t understand my father’s love for the King. At one time, he must have been a regal and fair man, but after living here for the past five years I had come to resent the man.
Will shrugged his apology, even as the logical part of my brain reminded me, he was just the messenger. My cousin was the only person I trusted with my secret meadow. Handing him my bow and quiver, I headed back to the castle. In the capricious life of court, perceptions could be your ruin or your redemption. It wasest the court stayed in the dark about my proclivities.
Ientered my room and Brexley, my maid, had a dress laid out for me. She was standing at the foot of my bed, twisting her hands together nervously. “Oh, Lady Arrow! We have to hurry; the king is expecting you and the other ladies in twenty minutes!”
So soon?
“But I only just received the summons,” I whined as she grabbed my arms, and started stripping my brown canvas dress from my body. “Why are you calling me ‘Lady’?”
Her gaze eyed the door. “Because it’s proper, my lady.” She whispered.
I glared at the door. She only called me that when she suspected someone was listening, otherwise she conferred to my preference of calling me by my first name. She was a year older than me and had been my maid since I was eight years old.
Once stripped, I raised my hands to help get the pretentious dress over my head, and Brex slipped behind me to tighten my stays. Women’s fashion choices were not designed with comfort in mind, I mused while the breath was forced out of me. I thought I would much prefer to wear breeches like Will, even though he claimed they were just as vexing—though in a different way.
Finished with my dress, Brex led me to the vanity, fussing and attempting to wrangle my wild locks into something more presentable for the king. Somehow, she managed to pull off a miracle in five minutes. Tight curls were pinned just behind my left ear, my ruddy tresses cascading over my shoulder and bouncing as I walked. Finally meeting Brex’s approval, she pinched my cheeks for color, smacked my lips for good measure, then pushed me out the door. If I didn’t hurry, I was going to be late for my audience with the king.
I gathered my skirts in my hands and hastened through the castle. The hallways were filled with quiet whispers as I bustled through them, no doubt judging my gait or my dress, but I ignored them—I had arrived at double doors leading to the king’s throne room in the center of the castle.
Opening them soundlessly, the doorman ushered me in while I attempted to hustle through them in a more ladylike fashion. It’s a delicate balance that I had tried to perfect.Smooth my skirts, adjust my curls, bite my bottom lip to gain color, clasp my hands, touch my collar bone.The majority of the time it worked, but I couldn’t seem to get the titter right, or the simpering.
Unfortunately, I was the last to arrive, so I took a moment to glance at the other eleven ladies. They were my peers, my once upon a timefriends. While they moved on and accepted their duties, I had remained myself.
Gone were the days where we’d sneak out and watch the guards training in the courtyard, or slip into the kitchens and raid the dessert cupboard. We’d make up rumors about each other then giggle when we heard them. How we all used to steal tea cakes, passing them to Prescilla in secret each time her aunt would put her on a diet of cheese and water. Those days were fun. While more duties were placed on the others’ shoulders as we grew older, mine had remained unburdened. Being the ward of the King, with no family to accompany me, gave me a level of freedom of which most ladies of the court had no true concept.
Around me, the ladies all glittered in their finery, tittering behind their hands, and I couldn’t help but feel more isolated. Not for the first time, I wondered what it would be like to live without the constant constraints of court. To return to my country home with rolling hills of green that turned into shimmering white in the wintry sun. Running through springtime fields with pink flowers barefoot had been bliss, tracking mud into the manor and being forced to clean up the floors before my father returned from inspecting the fields.
