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It seems he was right.
As soon as we’ve urged our horses down the winding path into the stretch of forest, I see what Julita meant about the conjured targets. Here and there, glowing shapes flicker into view amid the branches and on the forest floor. Some look like ghostly animals, others like random blobs of light.
One arrow flies, and another, and another. Around me, the students are claiming their hits like escalating bets in a card game.
Keeping a careful watch on my steed, I ease my bow off my shoulder.
Set the base of the arrow against the string, Julita says.And rest the side of the shaft near the head at the middle of the curve in the bow. Pull back as hard as you can and sight down the shaft.
Easier said than done.
My first arrow falls off into the brush. The second zings into a tree at least a few feet from the target I was aiming at.
At this rate, I’m more likely to hit one of my fellow students than any magical shapes.
I restrain a grimace. At least Toast is playing mostly nice for now, though I have to grab the reins once to slow him when he tests me.
Esmae comes up behind me, the scattered sunlight glancing off her pale face and the mauve patch over her one eye. “I suppose you haven’t done much horseback shooting before.”
“No,” I say, because it’s obvious, and don’t bother to mention that I haven’t done any shooting with my feet on the ground either.
“It took me a while to get the hang of it.” She motions for me to watch her. “You’ll have an easier time if you keep your elbow higher. And pull back just a little more, right before you release the arrow.”
I give her instructions my best attempt, and my next arrow flies only a foot away from the luminescent deer head I spotted through the trees.
Oh, well, I’m not here to become an expert archer anyway.
I wet my lips and notch another arrow. “Thanks for your help. You’re rooming in the same dorm as Julita—do you know her well?”
I already know from Julita that they weren’t close, but it seems like the sort of thing a person would ask of a stranger who’s randomly helping them. All Esmae knows about me is that I knew Julita.
Esmae cocks her head as if considering the question. “Not exactly. But she’s the kind of person you can’t help noticing. She’s always… Having her around keeps me working hard to impress the teachers just as much as she does.”
Hmm, Julita says.She makes me sound like a bootlicker. I didn’t ply for their favor that much.
I open my mouth, forming my next question, and a sharp voice carries from farther behind me. “So, Ivy of Nikodi, you landed that assistantship with Ster. Stavros right out from under the rest of us.”
I peer over my shoulder and make out the speaker in the shifting forest shadows just beyond Esmae. The tall, athletic woman whose name I don’t know holds her bow like it’s part of her body.
Julita supplies her name.Romild. Her province is on the border—vulnerable to military incursions.
So maybe she was hoping that getting close with Stavros would mean more protection from the royal forces.
I can’t blame her for that, but I can’t give her the position either.
“The timing happened to be right,” I say. There isn’t much else I can mention to justify it.
Romild snorts. “And you can barely manage to hit thin air. Exactly how many other ways did you please him to make up his mind?”
Her insinuation couldn’t be clearer from her tone. My jaw tightens against a flicker of anger.
As if I’d ever lower myself to “pleasing” any man, let alone a jerk like Stavros, to get their good will.
I manage to keep my tone calm. “There’s more to military skill than archery.”
She guffaws. “You keep telling yourself that. We’ll see how long it takes before hecan’tjustify keeping you on. There are a lot of us who’d want the chance to work with a legend like him.”
I don’t see how any good can come from debating the subject further. I clamp my mouth shut and ignore the squirming of magic inside me that wants to teach my accuser a thing or two about combat.
