Page 78 of Unkindness of Crimson Ravens
I nocked an arrow, aiming it toward the hay target. The arrow swung to the side a few times before I managed to let it fly free.
The arrow bounced off the wall, barely missing the window, in a sharp ring.
A bright laugh echoed behind me. “Were you aiming for the window?” Francis walked towards my fallen weapon.
I narrowed my eyes, aiming another arrow at him.
Francis chuckled at my threat as he picked up the arrow from the floor. “Please don’t hit the window when you shoot at me.”
Fighting the smile that threatened to appear on my face, I rolled my eyes. The last time we talked was during our ride home after the meeting. An odd feeling of longing accompanied me the last couple of days.
A heavy sigh escaped my lips as I leaned against the wall.
“Tough practice?” Francis’ brows rose as he put the missing arrow back into its quiver.
A peculiar timidity filled the air. “Not at all.” I met his playful eyes when he leaned against the wall beside me. Jasmine spun my head drunk.
“Sure it was.” A grin spread across his face. “Caleb was the one to tutor me as well. I know his style of teaching very well.” His gaze bored into mine; suddenly the room narrowed down. “No need to lie, Princess.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat that grew bigger with every passing moment. “He makes me want to strangle him.” I smiled, sliding down the wall in an attempt to escape Francis’penetrating gaze: escape the bewildering emotions he brought out of me.
Francis laughed, taking a seat next to me on the floor. “I would offer you my help, but I'm afraid swords are not my expertise.” His shoulder brushed over mine. My breathing hilted.
“Whatisyour expertise?” I raised a brow at him, ignoring my foolish reaction.
“Daggers,” Francis shrugged. “Though I am pretty good at everything, naturally.”
“Of course you are.” I rolled my eyes.
“You don’t believe me?” Francis crooked his head, a slow grin made its way onto his face. “May I?” He pointed at the bow in my hand.
“Please.” I handed him the weapon; his hand brushed against mine.
He sent me a quick smile as he got to his feet. Grabbing the arrow I’d nearly broken the window with, Francis graciously placed it across the bow. His hands held the weapon firmly, yet gently all the same, as he pulled on the bowstring. My eyes were unable to escape this prison.
The arrow landed straight in the middle of the target on the opposite side of this gigantic room. My brows shot up.
“Believe me now?” Francis tilted his head, placing the weapon where it belonged—far from my hands.
I shook my head. “Why don’t you carry a bow with you, if you are this good?”
“Daggers are more practical.” Francis took his abandoned place beside me. My body froze at the proximity. “And they are easier to hide: gives some sort of advantage. I can give you a lesson,” he said, a trace of hope sang in his voice.
I swallowed a lump in my throat at the idea. “I’ve had enough lessons for one night,” I shook my head; my eyes studied the stone floor, avoiding his gaze.
“Perhaps tomorrow?” Francis persisted.
“I think I will pass.” I offered him a small smile. Though the words burned my tongue, for a strange feeling of disappointment at my reply washed over me.
“Come now, Princess,” Francis leaned into me. “I thought we were friends. What's the matter?”
I should keep my distance,I wanted to say.
“I won’t be as mean as Caleb, I promise,” he didn’t give up. “I will even give you a dagger of your own.”
“Bargaining again?” I smiled.
Francis shrugged, “What do you say?”
