Chapter 14 Wake Up
Wake Up
Una’s arrow left the bow, whizzing across the training field. Thunk.
It was barely an inch off dead center. That was good, considering that Una did not have a lifetime of experience in shooting arrows, not like some of the other soldiers.
Still, it could be better. She could be better.
I will be better, Una thought grimly, nocking another arrow. She took aim, steadied herself, and breathed out slowly.
The arrow flew. Thunk.
This time, it was another inch off from her previous shot. Groaning aloud, Una threw down her bow, resisting the urge to stamp on it in a temper. A good bow was hard to find, and harder still to make, and this one was hers.
“Ye aren’t focused.”
She nearly jumped out of her skin, spinning around to find Struan standing behind her. His face was grim, and his arms were crossed tightly across his chest. Despite herself, despite it all, she felt her throat constrict at the sight of him. A shiver rolled down her spine.
“What do ye mean?” she demanded, pleased to hear that her voice didn’t waver at all.
I’m happy to see him, Una realized, swallowing hard. I’m glad to see him. I… I’ve missed him, even though we were barely apart.
What does it mean?
“I mean that ye were off-target on yer last shot because ye weren’t thinking about it,” Struan stated.
She lifted her eyebrows. “Not thinking about it? Of course I was thinking about it.”
He shrugged. “Ye weren’t thinking of that shot. Ye were thinking of the one before it. Ye were pleased with the shot, thinking of what ye had done right. And because of that, yer concentration was not where it ought to be. Do ye understand?”
Una breathed out slowly, frowning. “That… That makes sense.”
“Of course it makes sense,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “Everything I say makes sense. I’m a logical man, lass. Try the shot again.”
Una clenched her jaw and briefly considered telling him no. Struan stared down at her, amusement glimmering in his clear blue eyes. Then a thought struck her.
“Where are yer guards?”
He glanced behind himself, seeming a little surprised.
“Yer guess is as good as mine. Maybe they got bored of wandering around after me all day. Maybe I finally outran them. They’ll be somewhere, I’m sure.”
Una huffed. “I imagine so.”
“Go on, then. Take the shot.”
“I don’t need yer help.”
He eyed her for a long moment. “Still so prickly,” he murmured, half to himself.
Una sighed. “I’m sorry, I… It’s just been a long day.”
“It’s only noon.”
“Aye, that’s what I’m saying.”
He chuckled at that, shaking his head.
“Now, if ye trust me not to stab ye with an arrow, I can show ye how to aim correctly,” he said, grinning at her and gesturing to her quiver of arrows.
Una bristled. “I can aim!”
“Aye, ye can. Ye know the technical part of it, but there’s more than that. Can I show ye?”
She sighed, passing a hand over her hair. Her braid was coming undone, tendrils hanging around her face and sticking to her damp skin.
I shouldn’t hand him a bow and arrow, I know that, no more than I should tell him about what Senga told me.
And yet… and yet.
Una slowly handed over the bow, trying not to tighten her grip on it when he took it.
“Here, let me show ye,” Struan said crisply, neatly snatching up an arrow from her quiver and taking aim. “Ye hold yer body exactly as ye should when shooting an arrow. But ye are too tense, lass. I imagine yer last teacher told ye that, too.”
Una bit her lip. “My last teacher was Thomas. Aye, he did tell me I was too tense.”
“It’s not just physical tension. It’s mental tension.
To be a truly excellent archer, ye have to relax.
Ye have to let go. Ye have to clear yer mind.
Don’t think about yer previous shot, and don’t think of yer next one.
All that exists is this moment. Just ye, yer bow, the arrow, and the target.
Of course, it’s easier to manage on a training field like this and less so on the battlefield, but there’s nothing to be done about that.
And don’t forget, once that arrow leaves the bow, it’s no longer part of ye.
Yer work is done, and there’s nothing else ye can do. ”
He breathed out, slowly and evenly, and released the arrow.
Thunk.
It struck the target smack-bang in the middle. The arrow vibrated there, as if taunting Una.
“That was a good shot,” she said at last, somewhat reluctantly.
“Ye can shoot like that easily,” Struan responded. “Here, try again. Remember what I said. Nothing but ye and the bow.”
Una took the bow somewhat reluctantly. The wood was warm from his palm. She nocked an arrow, breathed in, breathed out.
Nothing, she told herself. Nothing but me and the bow.
Thunk.
She blinked, staring at the arrow. It had thudded in the edge of the target, many inches away from the center.
“That… That’s my worst shot yet!” she yelped.
Struan chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, lass. There’s clearly something on yer mind, and only a truly experienced shot can blank out their thoughts at will. So, come on. Tell me what it is.”
Una glanced up at him, chewing her lower lip.
I shouldn’t tell him. This belongs to somebody else.
“What do ye mean?” she managed.
He shrugged. “Something’s bothering ye. Some overwhelming feeling. So, what is it?”
She breathed out, closing her eyes.
“Envy,” Una murmured at last. “I feel envious.”
“I see. Of whom?”
“Kyla.”
The instant the words were out of her mouth, Una knew she’d made a mistake. Now that she’d begun, she knew she’d end up telling him.
Stupid, stupid, she chastised herself.
“Kyla?” Struan repeated, looking a little surprised. “Why?”
She closed her eyes. Maybe it’s what he needs to hear.
“Kyla is pregnant.”
The words were heavy between them. Una regretted every word. It was too late, though. Much too late.
“Kyla?” Struan echoed, his voice tight. “Pregnant?”
“Aye. It’s a surprise, but… it’s good news, aye? Good news.”
He swallowed, glancing away. “No news is good news. Not truly.”
A bairn of Kyla’s, especially a son, could rival Struan for the position of Laird Dickson, should the current laird die, Una realized, swallowing thickly.
Should she have told him?
I should have let Kyla tell him. I’ve let her down once more.
“I’m sure Kyla is pleased,” Struan said briskly. “She’ll make a fine mother.”
“Aye, she will. She is excited. They all are.”
“It’s hard to imagine,” he murmured, shaking his head. “My baby sister with a baby.”
“Ye will be an uncle.”
He glanced down at her, and there was something hard in his eyes. “Ye think that baby will be brought up to look at me as family? Don’t be naive.”
Una flinched at his harsh words.
“I am not naive.”
“Ye are naive if ye think that this war will end with us all friends. I’m kept alive now because I am useful. Once the war is over, if Grahame and Kenneth and the others win, my usefulness will be over. I’ll be finished.”
Una flinched again at that, staring up at him with wide eyes.
“What do ye mean, finished?”
He snorted, shaking his head. “I’m sure ye can guess.”
Abruptly, he turned and began to stride away. Something like unease settled in Una’s chest. Shrugging off her quiver and setting it down beside her bow, she hurried after him.
“Struan, wait!”
“Wait for what?”
“Why are ye being so unfriendly? So unkind? I thought we were…”
The words died in her throat. Struan slowed his pace, just a little, glancing over his shoulder at her, and their eyes locked. Clearing her throat, Una pressed on.
“I thought we were friends,” she said at last. “Something like that, anyway. I thought ye trusted me.”
Struan shook his head tightly. “Trust no one, lass. If ye listen to only one thing I’ve ever told ye, listen to that.
Nobody can be trusted. Not mother, father, sister, or brother.
Not the one ye think ye love. Trust only yerself, and even then, trust yerself only halfway.
It’s not worth the risk to take the other half. ”
Una was silent for a moment.
“Is that how ye live?” she asked at last. “Trusting no one? Not even trusting yerself?”
“Aye, I do. And it’s kept me alive so far.”
“Kyla is alive, too. And she’s learned to trust.”
He shrugged tightly. “Kyla has more to lose. More and more to lose every day, it seems.”
This made Una swallow thickly.
“What do ye mean?”
“I only mean that…” he trailed off, finally slowing to a stop.
Passing a hand over his face, he turned to face Una, eyes heavy and tired.
“I mean that everything I have has been taken from me. Kyla, however, has a good deal left to lose. Her husband, her friends, and now a bairn. That is a significant amount of leverage. A man like my father would work hard to exploit that.”
“But we can protect her,” Una urged. “Together, we can—”
“Together? We?” He let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Una, lass, did ye forget which side I am on? I am yer enemy. Tell me this; supposing the Dickson clan is obliterated and the war is won, my father faces justice, and then the call goes up for my head, too. Would ye stand by me, then?”
“I…”
“Imagine that my crimes are all listed in a court of law, every vile thing I’ve done—and more besides, because history is written by the winners—is read out for all to hear, and the world goes mad for my blood.
Even my sister turns on me since she has a new Dickson heir on the way.
Yer friends certainly would. Would ye still stand by me then, Una? ”
She stared up at him, bewildered. Words wouldn’t come.
Aye, Una wanted to scream. Aye, of course I’d stand by you.
She couldn’t make her mouth move. She swallowed thickly and met his eye.
“My brother is my only blood,” she said at last, voice wobbling. “My friends are my family. I… I don’t know if I could turn my back on them.”
A muscle jumped in Struan’s jaw, and his throat worked. For an instant, just a split second, she saw hurt in his eyes.