Chapter Fifteen

This was it, thought Ariana. The final round of the archery tournament. Only six people now remained. By some miracle, she had managed to include herself among those six, along with Florian, who seemed to have charmed his arrows to fly straight. He had been unmatchable this entire day.

Behind the competitors stood the royal box, among the wooden stands designed specifically for the privileged Lords and Ladies. Unlike the melee, this event did not have the advantage of an arena with a full set of stands, and so the poorer men and women who still wished to watch congregated around a wooden fence surrounding the range. Bloodsworn stood on guard around the fence and the royal stands. The King did not want to take too many chances. Uric had neglected to attend, but his son Fendred was up there watching. She had sat with him at the joust. The prince had been kind and courteous, though he had a talent for subtly changing the subject when the questions became personal.

The weather was not so kind today, with grey clouds dimming the sunlight above them, though thankfully not bringing rain. The wind had a bite to it that had been lacking before, and it did not help Ariana’s impatience as she nervously tapped her foot.

“Relax,” said Florian, beside her as she waited to be called to shoot her next set. “You’re a fine archer, and you’ve made it this far. That’s something to be pleased about if nothing else.”

“I know, I’m fine,” she said, pulling her hair back as the wind blew it in front of her. “It’s this bloody weather I’m not a fan of.”

Florian smiled, and then frowned, noticing something.

“Is that a flower on your sleeve?” he asked sharply.

“Oh,” said Ariana guiltily, glancing down at the blue petals on her inside cuff. “I was just being polite, he gave it to me the other day.”

Florian looked at her, saying nothing.

“Look, I know you don’t like him, but I made an agreement with my father to be nice to him so he would let me participate in the tournament,” she said. “Besides, he seems alright for a prince.”

“You should watch out for him,” he replied. “I’m sure he can be charming, but it takes time to find out a person’s true colours. I wouldn’t be so sure that he doesn’t share his father’s temperament as well as his blood. A fighter as good as him must have some love of violence.”

“Well a person can change after six years away, too,” she retorted, feeling irrationally defensive. She shouldn’t feel bad for not having agreed to marry Florian. If she wasn’t ready to give up her name and move to Redwood on the first day she saw him again then it was his fault for asking. And despite her words to Florian, there was a voice in the back of her mind whispering to her that she could be a Queen if she just followed her father’s wishes and married Fendred. It might not be the throne she had always wanted, but it was better than none at all.

“Ariana Farhorn!”

She gave Florian a resigned smile, and took her place over one hundred yards from the target, trying to quell the butterflies in her stomach. She rolled her shoulders, feeling the aches of the melee and the rest of the day’s shooting. Maddon needed to be paid back for several of those. She only wished she had not embarrassed herself by lashing out after she had already lost. It would have been much easier to claim the moral high ground.

She nocked the first of her six arrows to the string, feeling the friction as it rubbed against her callused fingers. The wooden bow creaked slightly as she pulled back the string and aimed, well above the target to adjust for the drop. An amateur archer would consider it a success to even hit the target at this distance. The string twanged, and the arrow flew off, thudding into the target just outside the centre. Nine, almost perfect. She couldn’t help but feel luck had a part to play in that one, but appreciated the soft applause behind her nonetheless. This was a true test of skill, rather than the chaos of a melee. It deserved the same number of spectators, but could never quite muster it.

She snatched her next shot slightly on release, and could tell it was flying too high. Luckily though, her original shot had been aiming a little low, and she was only a few inches from the inner circle. The wind had increased its bite by this time, and so she had to trust her instincts a little more. At this distance the wind could make an arrow miss the target entirely. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment to tune out everyone around her.

Her next three shots all clustered around the middle, though none scored the maximum. She was pleased, but doubted it would be enough.

Ariana took her last arrow, drawing it back fully so that the feathers tickled her ear. She released it, knowing it was good as soon as it left her bow. Two seconds later, it thudded into the centre. Bullseye.

Florian clapped most enthusiastically out of everyone, and she laughed, working out the numbers in her head. She had scored in the low fifties. It was the best of the finalists so far, but Florian had yet to shoot.

“Well done,” said Florian. “That last shot was wonderful.”

“Thank you,” smiled Ariana. “I don’t think it will be enough though.”

“You never know, princess,” he said, and winked. “This next shooter doesn’t look like a winner to me.”

Indeed the archer following Ariana, the only other woman, struggled with the wind and didn’t manage to land a single bullseye. Perhaps the pressure of the watching crowd had got to her. She looked crestfallen as she left her plate, and Ariana had sympathy. It was now Florian’s turn, and he was the last to shoot.

“I hope you haven’t forgotten our bet,” he said, as he passed her.

Composed as ever, he stepped up and fired his first shot, which hit the inner red part of the cloth, scoring him eight points. Still inconclusive. Ariana realised she was holding her breath. Florian took a little longer with the next shot, and when he released it, it landed dead centre in the middle of the target. The onlookers gasped and applauded loudly, as they should for such a shot, and he followed it up with two nines, and then yet another bullseye. Ariana’s heart sank. Florian only needed to get higher than five points and the tournament was his, and he had yet to score lower than that. He glanced back, an almost apologetic smile on his face, as if embarrassed by his own skill, before taking his last arrow. He didn’t rush, taking his time as he drew it back and aimed. This would decide it for good.

The arrow arced through the air, almost too fast to follow, thudding into the target over one hundred yards away. Ariana’s heart stopped and she blinked, checking that she had seen it correctly. His arrow had hit the outer edge of the black-dyed ring. There was silence for a few moments.

“With a score of fifty-three points to a close fifty-one, the winner is Ariana Farhorn!”

Ariana clapped her hands over her mouth, shocked and overjoyed. It seemed impossible, but thanks to a stray shot she had won! She looked back to the Royal box in the stands, and saw her father nod approvingly, clapping along with everyone else watching. She laughed, and then remembered Florian, realising how disappointing it must be to lose first place and the accompanying prize money in one bad shot. She went over to him.

“Congratulations,” he said cheerily, shaking her hand. “You shot well.”

“Thank you,” she said, bemused. “Although it looked like you had it. What happened to the famed Redwood skill?”

“Underestimated the wind,” he said, shrugging casually as if it was nothing. “It happens.”

She laughed elatedly, wrapping him in a hug, not caring if it was appropriate for a princess or not.

Over his shoulder behind Florian’s bright red hair a commotion had erupted. One of the spectators had vaulted the fence, running frantically out in front of the royal box. At first she thought he was an over-enthusiastic fan wanting to congratulate her. Then she saw the bow and arrow.

She barged Florian out of the way, reaching for an arrow out of the barrel behind her. She pulled one out, knocking the barrel over in her hurry as she spun to face the man, drawing back her bow in one fluid movement. The King’s Bloodsworn were moving to intercept him, but the attacker already had an arrow nocked, aiming up at the royal box. Ariana didn’t have time to think about her aim, she was relying on instinct as she released the arrow, seeing that her target was drawing back the string of his bow.

Her arrow whistled through the air, travelling the distance in less than a heartbeat and piercing the attacker’s throat. He spun with the impact, spraying blood and releasing his own arrow, which embedded itself harmlessly in one of the wooden steps, just a couple of yards from the King. Ariana looked on in shock as the man she had shot spasmed, an arrow in his neck. He cried out in pain, gurgling sickeningly while his hands reached weakly for his throat. The movements became slower and slower, and in full view of the crowd, he died, his arms falling limp as the pool of blood slowly grew.

***

Ariana walked along the inner wall of the castle, high up where she could see the massive city stretching out before her, teeming with life, even as tinges of red spread across the sky. She could hear the gulls where they gathered by the docks as the fishermen were bringing in their hauls. When the wind blew in the right direction it was also possible to detect a faint whiff of fish. By her side was Fendred.

“So has there been any more word on the identity of the assassin?” asked the prince.

Ariana shook her head.

“He had nothing on him indicating who he was or why he was doing it. I suppose we’ll never know.”

The image of his dying convulsions flashed in her mind, and she shuddered. It wasn’t something she wanted to think about. Though she didn’t regret her actions, it was a tragedy for anyone to end their life in such a way. She could hardly believe anyone would do something so dangerous to their own life just for the chance of payment. Perhaps it had been for his wife, or children. Regardless, no family had come forward, and nobody in the castle seemed to care. The threat had been dealt with, and was now to be forgotten.

“So how long will you be staying now that the tournament’s over,” she said, breaking the silence.

“It depends,” he said. “A few matters still need to be settled.”

Ariana nodded, pondering the connotations of that sentence.

“You fought well,” she said. “I’m disappointed we didn’t get a chance to face each other.”

The prince seemed to struggle with something for a moment, before deciding on a courteous smile.

“Thank you,” he said. “My father has always been keen on training me to fight. Congratulations for your performance in the archery and melee too. I hadn’t realised your talents were so diverse.”

“Well I’ve been training since I was young, I’ve always enjoyed the challenge.”

“I see,” said Fendred. “Well as it’s beginning to get dark, would you like me to walk you back to your room?”

“Sure,” said Ariana, unsure what other response there was. She wasn’t sure what she wanted to happen here. She had thought that seeing Fendred in person would make her choice obvious, but it didn’t help at all. She might have a greater attraction to Florian now, but did that matter, in the long term? Surely you could grow to love anyone. They made their way down some steps where Fendred held the door for her, letting her enter the torchlit keep.

“So who was it that you were talking to during the archery competition?” he asked, when they were out of earshot of the guard at the door. Ariana acted casual.

“Who do you mean?”

“The scruffy ginger-haired man,” Fendred continued. “The one who messed up his last shot.”

“Oh you mean Florian,” she said. “He’s a friend of the family, the middle son of the Lord of Redwood. He lived with us in Rivergate for a few years. Why?”

Fendred seemed hesitant to continue.

“I just wasn’t sure that it was appropriate for a young unmarried princess to be so liberal in public,” he finally said.

“I’m sorry?” questioned Ariana, surprised. “Why shouldn’t I be allowed to talk to him?”

“Well it’s how rumours start, isn’t it?” said the prince. “It would be wrong to tarnish your reputation with someone too unimportant for you to ever marry.”

Ariana said nothing, not wanting to say anything she would regret and the conversation died between them. They arrived at her door.

“Well, this is my room,” she said, reaching for the doorknob.

“Wait,” said Fendred, holding her wrist, and then clasping her hand. “I’m sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean anything by it, and I should never have brought it up.”

“It’s fine,” said Ariana, hoping for him to drop the subject. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Good,” said the prince, taking her other hand. “Because I’d been hoping for a moment alone like this and would hate to have ruined it.”

Oh by the Gods, he was going to kiss her, wasn’t he? She felt almost claustrophobic, pressed in between him and the doorway. His hands were warm around hers as he held them together between them

“Ariana, will you fulfil our fathers’ wishes and do me the honour of marrying me?”

Then before she could answer, he kissed her, her mind racing with thoughts and emotions.

“So what do you say?” he asked, a few moments later.

Ariana didn’t know what to say or what to think. It wasn’t fair to be put on the spot like this. She needed time to think and decide. If it hadn’t been for what happened with Florian, she might have said yes that instant, but now there was conflict in her head. On the one hand she had her childhood best friend who she may never be allowed to marry, and on the other, an apparently charming prince who had her father’s blessing and was asking her here and now.

“I...I don’t know,” said Ariana, panicked. “I mean we barely know each other.”

“You don’t know?” repeated Fendred, almost incredulously. “This isn’t a choice you get to make. Your father has agreed to it. Asking is just a nicety.”

Ariana remembered Maddon’s words to her not so long ago. You always have a choice. For once he had a point.

“My father isn’t the one getting married,” she replied. “I just need more time to decide.”

Fendred backed away from her, swearing in frustration.

“What better offer are you expecting?” he asked, his voice rising. “I’m heir to a whole bloody kingdom, I just thrashed the best fighters Rivergate had to offer, including your friend Florian, and I’ve been kind and respectful to you this entire week. What more could you want? Have you looked in the mirror recently? Even without the bruises, there’s little that will win men over.”

Ariana’s face fell, hurt. She had expected more of him than this. She knew she was distinctly ordinary in looks but she thought he had been fine with that. A whole new person had emerged from him, and his calm composure was gone. Rather than give in and shrink away, she thrust her face forwards, raising her voice to match his. After putting up with one prince’s backstabbing in the melee, she was not going to stand by while another looked down on her.

“I don’t give a shit if you’re the heir to a kingdom,” she yelled. “If we were in the Icelands, I’d be the fucking heir to my father’s throne anyway.”

Fendred made a disbelieving noise in the back of his throat, shaking his head.

“Are you on the bleed or do you really not understand the way the world works? Women don’t fight in melees, and crazy ice tribes aside, they certainly don’t rule kingdoms. They do what their father or husband tells them to do, and that’s exactly what you’ll do when you’re married to me.”

Ariana shoved him back angrily, hating how her eyes were beginning to water as they often did when she became infuriated. Fendred raised a hand in retaliation, before stopping himself.

“I’m not going to hit a woman,” he said. “Now calm yourself down, you’re acting hysterical.”

Ariana punched him, sending blood spraying from his nose. She grabbed his neck, and with muscles gained from years of archery and swordfighting, slammed him against the door.

“Maybe my father could force me to marry you, but I promise you, I will make your life hell,” she threatened darkly, trying to hide the crack in her voice. “You may try to force me into bed but I will fight you every time. You may force me to bear your children but I will do my best to raise them to hate you. Give me the opportunity and I will run away into the forest and live like a peasant rather than live with someone as two-faced and conceited as you.”

“You’re mad,” said Fendred, grabbing her arm and wrenching her off him. She stumbled away as he marched off, clutching his nose.

“You’d better believe I’m mad!” Ariana shouted after him, as he rounded a corner away from her. She sat there for a few moments, breathing hard, and then buried her face in her hands. What had she done? Fendred was the son of a King who her father was hosting as a guest. That was it, she was dead. Her father would be furious beyond belief. Not only that, but she had been considering marry Fendred. And he had turned out to be a complete arsehole. Real tears formed in her eyes, and she didn’t try to stop them. She considered the thought of running away. She could hunt, after all, probably well enough to survive. It seemed a more attractive option than sticking around to see how her parents reacted.

Ariana looked up at the sound of light footsteps padding towards her. It was her handmaiden, a basket of flowers in her hand, most likely for Ariana’s room. Katrina was always doing things like that. She was younger than the princess but at times seemed to act like her mother. She was her only friend in the castle who wasn’t a blood relative.

“Princess, what’s wrong?” she asked, dropping her basket and rushing to her, shock etched on her face. “Is that blood?”

Ariana looked down, surprised at not having noticed the dark red droplets which had seeped into the light-coloured fabric.

“I hit the prince,” she said, a short hysterical laugh escaping her at the ridiculousness of what she was saying. “It’s his blood.”

Katrina blinked, her mouth hanging slightly open, but she tried to pass it off.

“Well why don’t we get you cleaned up, and then I’ll get one of the servants to heat some bathwater over the fire,” she said. “We’ll worry about the rest later.”

Ariana nodded, and Katrina helped her gently to her feet, guiding the princess inside and sitting her on the bed while she had a bath filled with hot water. When it was ready, she submerged herself in the steaming tub. The burning of the water helped in clearing her head, and Katrina did her best to help soothe her with words as well. She took an inordinate amount of pleasure in the bath, appreciating it all the more because it could not be long until word of what she’d done got back to her father. And when it did, there would be hell to pay.

Next Chapter: Chapter Sixteen