Page 85 of Tristan
“This is Deglan, she will teach you how to use an Elven bow. Learn well, Tristan. I will come get you for lunch.” He gives me another kiss—he’s given me a lot of kisses since yesterday—and leaves me with a lithe looking creature.
She’s as proud as she is strong with intelligence shining in her eyes. Her blonde hair swoops up high and down over her shoulder, covering her buttocks and I know immediately she must be royalty. Her hair is undercut on one side giving her a fearsome presence and there is an opaque tattoo above her right, Elven ear. I recognize the royal crest.
“I am Ando and Baya’s younger sister—the pretty one,” she says and winks at me. “My brother is quite taken with you, young Tristan. I’ve never seen him this way.”
I swallow. “Pleased to meet you, though it sounds as if you already know who I am?”
“I’ve heard nothing but Tristan this and Tristan that for months—though it wasn’t always in your favor.”
“You have? From whom?”
She laughs a pleasant laugh. “Baya. I told you, he is enchanted with you.”
As much as I suspect that as well, it’s hard to believe. “I don’t understand, I thought he hated humans?”
She runs a smooth finger gently over one of the marks that reach to my shoulder. “No one would give marks like this to someone they hated and most certainly not my brother.”
“But, but when I first got here …”
“He didn’t hate you then either. He might have hated his feelings for you, but not you—never you. They drove him insane. He didn’t want to care for you, but he did—does. I’m glad to see he stopped fighting his heart.”
Dear Gods, Bayaden enchanted with me?What next? Pigs flying? Why do Elves keep falling for me?
“Enough chatter then. I’m excited to teach you all I know about the bow.”
Deglan is a master of the bow, and so was my father. He offered to teach me on many occasions, and I refused, preferring the sword.
Then he made me, much to my dismay. I didn't appreciate the lovely art, but I soon found I inherited his gift. Deglan is far more skilled than my father or me. With her Elven grace and strength, she's quick and flawless.
“All right, your turn.”
I expect I’m going to be rusty, but I’m not. Despite my preference for the sword, Father was relentless, making me practice with the bow at least as much as the sword. After all, I would have to teach and choose archers as acting Warlord, I needed some level of mastery.
I end up sinking into the familiarity of it, feeling a pang of longing for my family. Though it was Father who made me practice, Papa fashioned my first bow for me.
Pulling the string back and timing the release with my breath turns into a meditation and I’m relaxed on the inside, even if my muscles are tired on the outside, by the time she calls for me to break so she can give me feedback.
"You have skill, Tristan. We can work with that, but you must improve your speed if you want to match that of an Elf."
"Is that possible?"
"We shall see."
She’s a hard taskmaster and makes me work all morning until past noon.
"Look, young Warlord. You have an admirer," she whispers in my ear.
She's right. From the corner of my eye, I spy Bayaden. He's pretending to be focused on his warriors, but his mind is far from them. I laugh inside, amazed. I was certain the man hated me only yesterday and he still hasn’t stopped referring to me as'nordo’wa,'the Elvish equivalent of idiot, but now he’s watching me in a way that only can be described as admiration.
I'm still not convinced I'm not just a passing fancy and that he'senjoying having a toy in his bed. He might think he loves me today, but tomorrow I could be a toy for the guards.
In true Tristan style, I decide to play a trick on him. I shoot a few more arrows and make a show of getting a little more intimate with the bow than is necessary. I have no trouble hitting the target.
When I reach the last arrow in my quiver, I check to see if he's still watching me—he is—and pretend to aim for my target. At the last second, I turn and release my arrow; it pierces through the air, landing in the spot I want: in the tree above Bayaden’s head.
He frowns at me, and I make my way over to him.
"See something you like?" I say running a hand nonchalantly through my short hair as I push my hips toward him.
