Chapter 13 #2
Four large men cloaked in black robes push a man toward the final mark, his frail body barely shuffling forward. The crowd gasps as they place him in front of the large target and begin to chain him there.
My father continues, “Your final target today will be a criminal—a filthy prisoner of Daramveer due to disobedience. Let this serve as a reminder of what can happen to you should you choose to back out of this competition. Each competitor will be doing my job for me, so I appreciate the day off. Now, please continue Thatcher and aim for his heart.”
A silence descends upon the crowd as they stand still, unfortunately, accustomed to the punishments the King bestows upon his prisoners. A heavy tension fills the air and for a moment, I believe the entire crowd holds their breath.
Arrogance leaks from Thatcher as he steps forward, readying his bow.
The man before him trembles, knowing these are his final moments.
In the distance, I can’t help but notice Thatcher’s mouth.
A constant chatter leaves his lips—as if he’s whispering to the Gods to let him perform well.
Seconds later, the arrow is released and looks perfect to the naked eye.
The man slumps to the side, the rusty chains holding him in place.
Blood begins to trickle down the man’s chest as the arrow remains protruding from his lifeless body.
I feel as if I might be sick. I glance to the side, noticing a small group of healers standing nearby to assist with the bodies once shot.
A familiar healer, Eden, keeps a firm eye on my father as the arrows fly.
The judge at the far end of the field, nearest to the motionless body, yells, “Miss.”
The crowd gasps. Even though the man’s heart was missed by less than an inch, the damage is already done to his already frail body.
Cromwell follows suit with the other competitors, firing arrow after arrow. The cloaked men bring in a new target each round for the competitors to aim for their hearts. The men show no hesitation, knowing that if they choose to step down, they will likely join those chained to the target.
Perfect bullseyes and near misses on the final targets set the tone for the first trial as the prisoners continue to slump to the side, unconscious with each arrow that was fired.
The winner of this competition will be determined by hairline differences.
The judges move from target to fallen men, assessing the arrows embedded in their flesh before turning to my father, ready to make their final decision.
The crowd is eerily silent, waiting for the results as I approach the men and cross the barrier. The targets before me pulse, and anticipation settles deep in my core.
It’s now or never.
All the onlookers notice my movement and turn to see what the fuss is about.
I remove the black hood covering my face, my black hair flowing through the breeze like a promise of death. “I’m Briar Blackbyrne, Princess of Daramveer, and these men stand here today to compete for my hand in marriage.”
The crowd claps cautiously as I notice my father rising slowly from his throne.
“I have decided that I will marry whomever I choose, whenever I choose. I will marry for love, respect, and honor, not because my father demands it.”
I turn to find him seething with anger, but he doesn’t move. I know I have one chance to make my declaration, and the pit I feel in my stomach from having to do what’s next will haunt me.
“I have decided that I will fight for my own hand, my own freedom, and my own honor.”
Gasps ripple through the crowd as I spot Maines, a smile lighting up her entire face. I reach forward and grab an unused bow. Locking the arrow in place, I steady my breath and aim at the first target.
“Briar!” my father shouts. “Don’t you fucking dare. Do not release that arrow.”
I close my eyes and think about what my mother and brother would say.
They would encourage me to fight, so I will.
I calm myself, aim, and release the first arrow—nausea washing over me as I anticipate what awaits me at the final target.
The silence from everyone is deafening as my arrow strikes the mark on the cloth.
The arrow tears through the thick fabric and crashes into the wood, echoing throughout the trial.
I swiftly move toward the next target, my feet thundering with each step.
I repeat the same motion: breathe, aim, and fire.
Perfect shot.
My father’s voice echoes toward me.
One target stands between me and victory as I draw my final arrow; the man’s lifeless body hangs, chained to the target that feels miles away, his body not yet removed from the judges—my only chance.
The man’s head slowly rises, and black blood trickles from the corner of his mouth.
Desperation fills his eyes, and I know he wants me to fire the arrow.
He wants his life to end and the pain to stop.
He’s tired of suffering. A tear falls from the prisoner’s eye, and I hear someone in the crowd let out a quick sob. My heart breaks.
I inhale sharply and say a silent prayer that I’ll be forgiven one day for my actions.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper.
My eyes settle on Thatcher as I see him getting ready to lunge in my direction.
At that exact moment, I catch sight of a small shadow slinking toward his planted feet.
Maines weaves through the crowd, directing her magic toward her brother.
Within shooting distance of the final target, he lunges to stop me but is halted by an invisible hand that wraps around his ankle.
He crashes to the ground with a thud as I release the last arrow toward a man who perhaps never deserved this.
A man with a family. A man who I am about to kill.
The world comes to a stop, and the prisoner locks eyes with me. Tears stream down my face.
The arrow travels at a speed the naked eye can barely follow as I close my eyes, hoping my rebellion hasn’t cost me everything, my soul included.
The arrow finds its home, a perfect shot directly into the man’s heart.
I fight back the urge to crumble as his head slumps forward once more and will never rise again.
I can’t be weak in front of these men, not for what’s coming and the plans I have.
The judges rush to the man, quickly assessing the shot before shouting, “The Princess of Daramveer is the first trial winner.”
The crowd bursts into a thunderous round of applause, and the men I’m officially up against appear as if they’ve seen a ghost.
I blink in realization at what I’ve just done: the rebellion I’ve declared against the King of Daramveer.
Instead of running as I have in the past, I soak in the cheers from the townspeople, ignoring the fact that I’ve just killed a man.
Glancing over my shoulder, I wink at the competitors with no remorse showing in my eyes even though I’m moments away from collapsing.
Challenge accepted.
My father is upon me within seconds of the declaration, grabbing my arm so tightly I fear it may snap in two. He grinds his teeth in my face. “You little shit.”
He smiles at the crowd and waves as he shifts us back into his study, slamming me against the leather couch. He snarls in my face, and pushes off me.
“How dare you embarrass me like that. You should be ashamed. What would your mother think of this? Your brother? You have embarrassed us all. You can’t truly expect to win this. You have no idea what’s in store, and not to mention, you just murdered a man.”
“Embarrass you? You’ve embarrassed yourself.
You just locked up your daughter instead of letting me be my own person—you’re using your own daughter for gain due to your paranoia.
Pathetic. They see right through your antics, Father.
You will never be taken seriously. I’ll murder hundreds more if that means beating you at your own game. ”
The words taste sour leaving my mouth.
A hand collides with my cheek as my father stands before me, his chest heaving with rage.
“You had best stop right there, Briar, before you are the next one being punished in front of this entire kingdom. I’ve warned you once already.
Don’t make me do it again. Do you think you’d be embarrassed then if you were strapped to a target? ”
The shadows rip around him like a dark chaos.
“If you want to compete in this competition so badly, then go ahead. I grant you permission. If you die, the blood is not on my hands, and when you are beaten at the end of this, you will marry whoever wins immediately. You will forever be linked to Daramveer, not as a queen but as a prisoner. And if these trials get too much for you, remember, if you back out, you die. That rule applies to you now as well. Do we have a deal?” He extends his hand.
My jaw strains so tightly that I fear my teeth might shatter. I will not hide in the shadows any longer. I will not fear what lives within me. Instead, I will fight, and I will show my father what his daughter is truly capable of. Extending my hand, I take his. “Deal.”
As our hands touch, pain shoots down my arm like a lightning bolt, causing me to jerk my hand back.
“Very well, Princess. I do hope you know what you’ve just got yourself into. Let me get back to the competitors and crowd and do what damage control I can. Let’s hope for your sake you haven’t ruined everything.”
He steps out of the room, leaving me alone in this study for the first time in my life. I glance down at my hand, still tingling with pain. A dark vein runs down my middle finger as I tuck my hand into my pockets and look around.