Page 27 of Slippers and Thorns
“I don’t think working as a household servant really qualifies as manual labor, Your Highness. Besides, you haven’t worked as a servant in over two years,” Charlie pointed out. Ella scowled at him.
“Regardless of how accurate that may or may not be, it’s not helping me draw this bow,” she muttered.
Sighing, Charlie raised his own bow again. “To start with, you need to hold your left arm straight, then pull the string. Don’t start with it bent and try to move the bow out while you pull it. Let it be the point you pull against.” Nocking an arrow, he demonstrated the draw again before releasing the string under control. “Try again.”
“You’re letting Charlie teach you archery?” someone laughed behind her. Turning, she saw Henry approaching with some of his friends. “I thought you wanted to learn how to shootwell.”
Surprised by the fact that he was joking with her, Ella simply blinked. Apparently, being in the training grounds temporarily put her on the same level as a guardsman.
Charlie glared at his fellow guard. “You’re welcome to teach her in my stead, if you think you can do a better job.”
Raising his hands, Henry backed away. “No, thank you. I like my head right where it is.”
Confused by the comment, Ella looked back at Charlie. He rubbed his forehead with his free hand and avoided her questioning look. “Try again. Hold the bow all the way out this time before you touch the string.”
“Like this?” she asked, raising her bow.
“Yes. Now try drawing the string.” Ella grabbed the string and began to pull. “No, keep your elbow straight,” Charlie corrected. He reached a hand under her arm as if to nudge the elbow in question into position, then paused for a moment before withdrawing.
“Now I can’t even get as far as my shoulder,” Ella grumbled. “It won’t—quite—”
Charlie rubbed his chin as he examined her. “Where are you pulling from?”
“What do you mean ‘where am I pulling from’? I’m pulling the string!”
“No, I mean—” Charlie hesitated, waving one hand in a circle as he appeared to search for words. “In your body. What are you using to pull the string?”
Ella thought about it. “I suppose my arm. What else would I be using?”
Charlie drew his bow a few times, scrunching his forehead in concentration. “Try using your back.”
Ella just blinked at him. “How do I pull a string with my back?”
“He means you should feel it in your back,” Henry helpfully supplied. Having stripped off his shirt in preparation for his training, he turned his back to her and mimed drawing a bow with his sword as the arrow. “Like this.”
“You’re supposed to be looking at his muscles,” one of his friends informed her, trying to keep a straight face.
“At the way his musclesmoved,” Charlie wearily corrected, rubbing his forehead again. “So that you can try to do the same thing.”
Averting her eyes from her guard’s sturdy physique, Ella tried to picture what she had observed and to imagine how copying it would feel. She closed her eyes, lifted her bow, and tried again. Her hand made it a little farther back, but still not enough.
“Why don’t you just help her with the draw, Charlie?” Henry called, a grin in his voice.
“Are youtryingto get me thrown in the dungeon?” Charlie snarled back.
After another fifteen minutes of Ella attempting to fully draw the bow and Charlie attempting to instruct her, during which time Charlie rubbed his forehead so much Ella was afraid he was going to take off a layer of skin, he finally gave in.
“This isn’t working,” he admitted. “It might help for you to feel what the full draw feels like, but I can’t help you with it from the front.”
“Okay,” Ella replied.
She watched as he set down his bow and slowly walked behind her, lining himself up as if he was going to shoot at her target. He lifted his left hand towards her bow and hesitated. “If you don’t mind?” he asked with a grimace.
When she shook her head, he carefully wrapped his large hand over hers on the bow, then reached his right arm around her other side to gingerly grip the string above her hand. He kept his arm out as far as possible, as though trying not to touch her. She could hear Henry and his friends chuckling behind them.
“Now,” he instructed, “draw again. I’ll help when it gets to your limit. Once it’s drawn, I’ll slowly let go so you can try to keep it there.”
Pulling on the string, she focused on moving the way he had tried to drill into her. At the point where she began to strain, Charlie’s hand tightened on hers as he strengthened the position of the bow and her right hand finally reached her neck as his other hand took some of the pressure.
