Page 8 of Dawn of Hope

I didn’t realize as I placed the Second Guard sword in her hands and congratulated her on winning the tournament that she would grow to become one of my only friends. After that day, Brynne never had to deal with being underestimated by our guards again.

“Your highness.” She gestures for me to walk ahead of her, indicating the end of our lesson for the day.

I am glad. We had been out here prior to being summoned by myfather. My body is exhausted, but my mind is still reeling.

I walk to the edge of the ring and swing my leg over the bottom rung of the fence, dipping under and exiting so the next match can start. The murmur from the guards has stopped, and the normal ruckus and banter of the men in service has started again, with Brynne and me no longer the center of attention.

I drop my practice dagger and sword into the rack with a clang as Brynne does the same.

“I think I’m going to stay and shoot for a little while.” I grab my favorite bow and a full quiver from the rack and slip the strap over my shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

She nods and looks up at the darkening overcast sky. “You have a little daylight left. I’ll come back and check on you if you’re still here by the time I complete my rounds.”

I nod, and walk to the shooting lanes that are slowly emptying as the guards make their way to the barracks. I stride toward the farthest lane, not wanting to be bothered. I just needed to be alone with my thoughts and focus on something other than the anger at my father.

Reaching over my shoulder, I pull an arrow from the quiver and nock it quickly before pulling back the string. I feel the tension of the tight bow on my shoulders and move my front arm to line up with the target. My fingers brush my cheek as I narrow my eyes and focus. Inhaling slowly, I focus on nothing but my breath and the target. I let out the breath, releasing the arrow right at the end, and watch it slam into the target.

I completely missed the circles, striking the hay bale in the bottom corner.

“Shit.” I curse at myself under my breath.

Shooting has always been a place of solace, where I can focus and completely drown out the world around me. Usually, I can still hit the target, even if I am riled up from an interaction with my father.

I’m really in my head this time. How can I not be? Everything I have been waiting for is in question. The aching loneliness I thought had a fast approaching end date is now in question. The doubt my father’s words cast is making my fingers tingle.

I squeeze the bow tighter, willing the sensation away and nock another arrow. I pull it back as far as I can, my shoulders screaming in protest as I focus on the target. I release the arrow, and this time the loud thunk gives me a deep satisfaction knowing my arrow has struck true. Gazing down the lane to confirm, I see it, right in the center, right where I expected it.

If I cannot rely on my father to fulfill his responsibility as king to present me and prepare me to be his heir, at least I can still rely on myself.

This arrow proves it.

Despite the pressure and doubt, I can still accomplish what I set my mind to. I can still be who I want to be and do what a queen should do, no matter how much he refuses to believe in me.

CHAPTER THREE

Icontinue shooting, focusing on nothing but the target and the pull of the bow until the clouds covering the sky darken and the evening chill sets in. The light from the torches surrounding the training area is no longer enough to keep practicing, so I know it is well past when I should be back inside.

I will be sore tomorrow, but I welcome it. Physical pain is easier to focus on than the pain and disappointment from my meeting with the king.

I place the bow and quiver on the rack and make my way inside. The castle is quiet, and my footsteps echo off the cold, grey stone hallways. My stomach growls, breaking the silence as I ascend the main staircase.

Hopefully Addy saved me some dinner and had it sent to my room. She knows on training days there is a high possibility that I will miss dinner, since it has happened enough in the past.

I take the last step at the top of the staircase and come to an abrupt halt. Goosebumps cover the exposed skin on my neck and my breaths quicken as I try to calm the panic rising inside of me.

The door is open.

Not fully open, but cracked, and the light from the room pours across the stone floor.

My heart beats wildly, and I clench my fists at my sides as my feet move of what seems like their own volition. I can’t stop it. Some unknown pull draws me closer to the door, filling me with the need to look inside.

It has been so long since the last time I felt this pull, and then I only snuck a passing glance on the way to my room. Feelings war inside me. My head tells me to stay away, but my body tells me to get closer. Try as I might, I can’t stop myself.

I creep toward it, knowing my training boots are not the stealthiest footwear. I try not to make a sound, taking each step on my toes as I inch closer, trying to stay out of sight. I peer around the edge of the doorway and feel my breath catch.