Page 12 of Feathered Thief

Thrilled, she hurried to join him. “They’ll be back before long,” he warned, “but you should be able to get a few shots off.”

“You mean, you’ll really let me try it?”

He mopped his forehead with his sleeve. “Sure. The instructor took a break, so why not? Weren’t you hoping for a chance to shoot when you sneaked down here?”

She returned his grin. “I guess I was.”

His auburn hair was a mass of damp curls, and his familiar face was dotted with red spots and scraggly whiskers. But when she looked into his pretty eyes, none of that mattered.

Besides, she had a few red spots herself. Oh, the horror of imperfection! She had to laugh at her own vanity sometimes.

Kazik demonstrated step by step what to do, and after shooting two more bullseyes, he handed her the bow and walked her through the process. “Slide your left hand down . . . There. Much better. Move this foot back. Ideally, you want to aim the arrow and shoot in one smooth motion. Now . . .”

Helena felt the tiniest bit insecure, but he was so casual and friendly that she began to relax—at least on the outside. He had been instructing by pointing rather than touching her, but then he stopped to ask, “Do you mind if I correct your position? It’s easier than trying to explain.”

“Go ahead.” She focused on getting things right, which was hard enough when he adjusted her hands on the bow and the arrow . . . but focus was downright impossible when he briefly grasped her waist and one shoulder with his hands to adjust her stance. And when he let go, the places he’d touched her felt . . . warm. She kept her composure, but her face burned, and shecouldn’t help wondering if he even thought of her as a girl. “Keep your eyes on the target,” he reminded her, backing off.

She struggled to remember that such a thing as a target even existed, but she obeyed.

“Now, nock. Draw. Loose!”

Instead of flying, her arrow dropped to the ground. “Oh, what did I do wrong?” she growled.

“Hmm. This finger got in the way.” When he gently tapped her erring finger, she noticed his large hand and the scabs and bruises on some of his fingers. “Try again, and I’ll arrange your grip. Now, keep loose; don’t tighten up.” As if that were possible with him standing directly behind her. Helena struggled to follow his directions. His freckled arms were corded with muscle that didn’t used to be there. He smelled like sweat, but all boys stank most of the time.

Helena hardly knew what to think or do. No matter how often she reminded herself that he was just her dear friend Kazik, her heart kept beating too hard.

“Don’t worry about the target this time,” Kazik spoke near her ear, sending a thrill through her. “Let the arrow fly. Don’t try to push it. The bow will do the work while you keep your fingers out of the way.”

Her second shot flew straight but fell short.

“Good!” Kazik said with a note of surprise and . . . approval? “Want to try one more?”

“I do, but it didn’t hit even close to the target.”

He frowned in thought. “I have an idea. C’mon.”

He led her about halfway to the target and handed her another arrow. “Now try again. Pretend you’re hungry and shooting a rabbit or pigeon for breakfast.”

She nodded, already focused. Kazik warned her before gently grasping her waist, turned her a little, then shifted one of her feet with his boot. He stepped back and gave the three commands;Helena drew the arrow back smoothly, then let it go. When it hit the lower edge of the target and stuck there, she let out a triumphant shout, turned, and almost threw her arms around Kazik . . . but she didn’t dare, and not just because she was holding a bow.

“Good shot! A little more practice and you’ll hit it dead center!”

Kazik’s pride and pleasure had her walking on clouds.

While they collected the arrows, she saw some of the other boys and men returning, presumably from their barracks, while others descended the hillside stairs to resume their military drills. Her awkwardness returned in a rush of panic. “You’re a great friend, Kazik,” she blurted. “Thanks for the archery lesson.”

Then she turned and ran for the stairs. But Kazik easily caught up with her. “Helena, you don’t want to run or walk alone through this group of boys and men. Please let me escort you.”

He was right. Even with Kazik at her side, all protective and imposing, she overheard comments and words that sounded ugly. “I would challenge them all to single combat for their disrespect of a lady,” Kazik muttered, “but it wouldn’t do any good. For me or for them.”

“I’m so sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He escorted her to the platform nearest the top of the bluff, gave her one heart-melting look and gently raised her hand to his lips, then trotted back down the steps to rejoin his fellow trainees.

Prince Kazimierz may not be particularly impressive in appearance, Helena mused, but he knew exactly how to melt a girl’s heart.

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