Page 58 of Pippa of Lauramore
I close my eyes, feeling a familiar ache in my chest. He moves away to help Marigold, and I’m left feeling shaky.
Why does he want me to come alone? And how will I manage it?
Leonora and Marigold have stuck to me like bees in honey the last few days. I’ve worked very hard to be kinder to Marigold, like Galinor would like me to be, and she’s slowly acting more like a lady than a field mouse. She smiles more, laughs more, and talks more. Every once in a while, when she becomes more animated, I see a glimmer of Irving in her smile. I have no doubt he’s right about her true parentage.
Leonora is doing her best to stir up feelings between Marigold and Archer, but I ignore them when they speak of it. I won’t add my opinion to that conversation. My one consolation is Marigold seems hesitant to discuss it as well. I have a nagging suspicion it’s not Archer, but Galinor, she’s taken a liking to.
I should care more than I do.
The courtyard is strangely quiet without the men loitering around. The competitors have five more days to come back with a dragon’s treasure. This is the longestevent of the tournament and the most dangerous. Many princes and lords traveled to Lauramore with family. You can tell who they are by the set of their shoulders and their troubled eyes. They are nervous.
I glance across the courtyard at a man wearing Errinton’s orange and black. He’s laughing with one of our knights, trading stories. He seems to take it in stride Lord Rigel will come back victorious and unharmed. Given Rigel’s heritage, I would be surprised if he didn’t.
He wasn’t unkind at the feast following the archery tournament but watchful. He said little and listened much. I shiver when I remember the way he looked at me while Archer and I were dancing. Like he could hear my thoughts.
Percival continues to tell me he is a good man, but he also thought Lionel would be a good match for me, so his opinion means little.
Leonora sits in the shade of the apple tree a few targets down. She doesn’t practice with us, but she watches, gracing us with her opinion when she feels it’s needed. Which is often.
She’s still testy, but it comes and goes. At least she doesn’t seem as ill as she did during the archery tournament. She’s taken my advice and worn lighter gowns. Velvet may be beautiful, but it’s certainly not a material suited for summer.
I draw my bow, concentrating on my stance. The arrow hits the target right on the bull’s-eye. I glance at Archer to see if he’s noticed. He gives me an approving look—almost a smile.
I focus again on the target, but my mind isn’t on it.
What does he have planned for tomorrow? Why does he want me to come alone?
Willowisp nickersat me from in front of the armory. One of the stable boys is holding her and Archer’s horse, and they’re both saddled and packed. I look around, wondering where Archer is. I greet the guards outside the armory as I pass them. I find him here, collecting our bows.
“Where are we going?” I ask, excited I can leave today without being sneaky about it.
He slips his quiver and mine over his shoulder. “I’m going to teach you to shoot while riding.”
“Like in the tournament?”
He gives me a wry look. “We’ll start slow and with larger targets.”
So, this is why he wanted me alone—because Marigold and Leonora weren’t ready for this particular lesson. My disappointment is sharp, but I stamp it down.
Leave it alone.
There are a few wispy clouds drifting across the sky, unhurried and carefree in their pace. Songbirds sing from the trees, and a bushy-tailed gray squirrel, chattering like a mad thing, darts up the apple tree next to the armory. Everything seems to be rejoicing in my first day of freedom.
Even the air smells sweeter this morning—like sunshine on dew covered wildflowers, ancient evergreen trees, and freshly cut terrace grass. Big, fat bumblebeesbuzz from colorful daisies, slow in their progress as if they haven’t a care in the world.
I imagine Vernow, with its busy streets, often littered with trash, and stalls of crowded animals and fish. I’ve traveled there several times. The air isn’t fresh like it is here. It has a strange, stale quality to it, like sweat and manure and foreign, cloying spices from the trading stalls.
How could Father think I would be happy there?
Archer holds my quiver for me, and I slip it over my arm and head. My bow feels heavy and secure on my back.
Willowisp prances under me, excited to be away from the courtyard and into the forest. There’s no need to sneak out the back gate this morning. I follow Archer right through the front, waving a joyful hello to the guards on duty.
Archer’s ahead of me, and he hasn’t said much. Since I didn’t have to slip away, and I knew Archer had something up his sleeve, I wore riding clothes today. Tall boots, fitted trousers, and a long, tightly fitted tunic are much easier to ride and shoot in than a gown. I adjust the leather lacing on my corset belt, twisting it back to center.
We take a leisurely pace, and once we’re away from the palace, I draw Willowisp up next to Archer and ask, “Where are we going?”
We’re following the main road instead of cutting off into the forest like we usually do.
