Chapter 13

“Make sure your elbow isn’t too high!” the archery instructor snapped.

Everyone on our row adjusted their arms. Sweat trickled down my back as I held my bowstring taut, waiting for the command to release my arrow. It was summer again. A full year had passed since I had been granted a position as court linguist. It had been the best year of my life. I was confident in my translating abilities and traveled with Father and Curtis constantly. Comfort had finished her final year of finishing school and was a highly sought-after tutor for music, dancing, etiquette, and sewing. She and Mother were lauded as the epitome of ladylike class.

Despite Hubert’s constant cynical predictions that we would break up, Curtis and I were still crazy about each other. Even Father, who had initially vowed to distrust any boy that showed interest in me, would routinely go fishing with Curtis on the short days of travel between countries. It always warmed my heart to see my two favorite men in the world getting along so well. Curtis also became just as familiar as one of the family; in the evenings, he would sit beside me on the sofa as we recounted the day’s events, listen as Father told stories, would join his tenor voice to my alto and Mother’s soprano as Comfort plucked at her harp.

The only thing that had changed was that Aria’s betrothal to Hubert had been pushed back several years, and we were now required to travel with an entourage of guards every time we went into Avivia. Locals near the borders of our countries were growing increasingly angry about the other side of the border’s residents encroaching on their territory, and claimed that they were being cheated out of land and resources. There had been several scuffles and even a few casualties. But the Council was optimistic that a goodwill trip to deliver supplies and offering to listen to their struggles would solve the entire matter.

“Release!”

We all fired our arrows. I was no archery master, but I could hit a target well enough.

“My muscles are all seized up,” I complained to Curtis. The archery instructor was notorious for having us hold the ready position for an outrageously long time.

“Does that mean I get to give you a shoulder rub later?” Curtis asked, a sly, playful expression sliding over his face.

“Quiet over there!” the instructor barked.

“Lovebirds,” someone else in the class muttered, but Curtis and I heard. We grinned at each other.

Our instructor kept us hard at work until every second of his class time was exhausted. As I put away my quiver and bow, I rolled my shoulders, trying to relieve the tension. “Why do they even teach girls archery when we can’t compete in tournaments or go on the hunting trips?” I asked.

“In case we are under siege,” replied Curtis knowingly. “Just imagine, if us menfolk ever were to fall in battle and an army came to take over, they would then have to deal with an angry horde of women armed to the teeth.”

I tried to imagine Mother ever ducking out from behind a window, rapidly shooting arrows at an oncoming legion. The idea was preposterous. “Well, you better never fall in battle!” I said. “I like having you around.”

Curtis grinned at me. “Don’t worry. I will make sure you never have to use those arrows to defend yourself. I am here for that.” We held hands and walked back across the grounds.