Page 53 of Pippa of Lauramore
The first event will be a simple bull’s-eye match. Whoever hits the center will step back to the next distance, and then the next after that. Anyone who doesn’t make it through the third distance won’t move on to the second event.
The second event is mounted archery, shooting through rings. The third event is a mystery. Archer’s quite proud of it, and he wouldn’t give me as much as a hint.
Like the scavenger hunt, there’s a total of six points possible.
Galinor has assured me he’s good with a bow, so I hope he will place in the final three. Though I couldn’t watch, he practiced most of the day yesterday. Marigold and Leonora tell me his skill is impressive.
Irving, though, is the favorite to win this particular event. He struts through the arena, wearing a ridiculous hat with a huge plumed feather hanging from it. He has on tall black boots, black trousers, and a billowy white shirt. He looks like he’s borrowed an odd assortment of nautical clothing from Bran and Dristan’s trunks. Except, instead of a sailor prince, he has the odd look of a pirate.
He catches me studying him and gives me a wave and a wink. The girls around me sigh. If nothing else, he makes a handsome pirate.
The tournament is about to begin, and Archer haspicked three men to start the competition: Bran, Peter of Coppel, and Lord Gregor of Lauramore.
Archer gives the signal, and they all shoot toward their target. All three arrows hit their bull’s-eye, and the crowd cheers.
Galinor is next, along with two men I don’t know well. Archer gives the signal, and their arrows fly. All reach the red center.
I cheer for Galinor, and he waves to me before stepping aside for the next competitors.
All twenty-nine men, excluding the one still in Yuven’s care, pass the first third of the beginning event. It would have been tragic to miss at that close range, and I am glad none faced that humiliation.
With Archer giving instructions, the targets are adjusted. He shoots a practice arrow. Then, happy with the placement, he calls the men again. Leonora and Marigold are already bored. They have been prattling on about music, and I have been studiously ignoring them.
My ears perk up when I hear Leonora say, “He’s never taken an interest in anyone romantically. He’s very serious, actually. But he seemed quite taken with you last night.”
“He was only being kind,” Marigold protests.
Leonora laughs. “He’s very handsome, and though master archer isn’t as high as knight, he would still be a fine husband.”
I bite my tongue to keep quiet.
She’s very kind, and I do not hate her.
The men follow the same order as before. I cheer for Bran, I cheer for Galinor, and I cheer for both Irving andDristan as they are out at the same time. I clap politely for Lionel and once again for Rigel.
I can’t help but smile a little when Lionel shoots. Archery is not his strong event. He’s sweating profusely, and though his arrow does make the bull’s-eye, it’s on the very edge.
So far, only one man was disqualified when his arrow narrowly missed center.
The targets are moved, Archer takes a practice shot, and then the last round of the first event begins. Bran and Peter of Coppel both move on, but poor Lord Gregor misses center.
The sun is almost directly overhead, and the day is very warm. I’m glad I talked my maids into a simple puff-sleeved gown. Leonora looks like she’s overheating in her long-sleeved velvet. I’m about to suggest she move to shade, but it’s Galinor’s turn.
He and everyone with him make the shot and hit the bull’s-eye. Lady Marigold and I cheer, though she’s much quieter than I am. Leonora fans herself with her hand, and she looks faint.
“Leonora, you need to move out of the sun.” I’m worried about her. She’s never been frail and fragile.
“She’s right,” Marigold agrees, studying Leonora’s pale complexion.
Leonora doesn’t fight us but instead lets us help her up. Percival is immediately at her side, his brow knitted with concern. “Are you all right?”
She waves him away. “It’s the heat.”
I follow behind him as he leads her to the shaded awning my parents are seated under. I hear Archer signalanother row of archers, but I don’t pay attention because I’m too concerned for Leonora. A gasp runs through the crowd, and I turn to see what happened.
Lionel looks murderous. His arrow not only missed the bull’s-eye, but has struck the outermost circle of the target. I glance at Archer. Whether he means to or not, he has a very satisfied look on his face. Lionel strides past him and out of the arena.
A few more groups go, and several more men are disqualified. Rigel passes to the next round. He acknowledges Archer’s congratulations with a nod, and he too leaves the arena. The sun is directly overhead now, and Father announces the next event will begin after we break for lunch.
