Chapter 25
He was still quiet, but something had definitely changed after my outburst.
Several days had passed since our lunch, and Lysande was different. He still barely spoke, yet now he walked much closer to me. Sometimes, it even seemed as though he was listening to everything I said.
Every now and then, his eyes would flick toward me, or his head would unconsciously tilt to the side whenever I mentioned something he had never known before.
At the moment, with the curve of my bow pressed against my cheek, I tried not to think about it.
I took a deep breath and pulled the string back as far as I could.
Every muscle in my body tightened beneath the force of the bow, while sweat began to glisten across my forehead.
I could feel his eyes on me, lingering over my strained muscles, but I refused to acknowledge him.
If he insisted on staying silent, then perhaps I should start doing the same.
Meera might have found her best friend in her knight, but perhaps all I would ever have was a very good target.
In my mind, of course.
A gentle breeze drifted in from the west, and I adjusted my aim to compensate for it. I rested my finger against the arrowhead before sliding it lightly down to the shaft. I waited for my heartbeat to slow, and only when I caught that tiny moment between one beat and the next did I let go.
The arrow whistled through the air and, in the blink of an eye, struck the very center of the target, just like every one before it.
All seventy-something arrows.
I lowered my bow beside me and let out an aching breath. Every muscle screamed in protest, begging me to stop, but my pride pushed me forward. Turning toward Lys, I found him exactly where he had been for hours, standing perfectly still as he watched me.
"Ugh," I muttered as my hand brushed over my quiver, only to realize it was empty again.
Rolling my eyes, I let my arms fall dramatically to my sides before stomping over to him.
I slung the bow over my shoulder, folded my arms across my chest, and stopped only a single step away.
Since he stood more than a head taller than I did and I was directly in front of him, he had to lower his chin toward his chest just to look at me properly.
"Yes, Princess." His voice was slightly muffled by the helmet he wore. I raised an eyebrow before tapping the side of my own head several times with my finger. For a moment, he looked at me, until with a quiet sigh, he lifted the helmet from his head and rested it against his armored hip.
"Yes, my Princess?" he repeated.
I folded my arms once more as my eyes wandered over his damp hair, now hanging low enough to brush against his eyes. His face was faintly flushed from the heat, and the stubble he had neglected to shave for several days had begun to fill the sharp line of his jaw.
I pursed my lips and stared straight into his eyes.
"How may I help you, Princess?" he asked again.
"Ugh." I threw my hands into the air. "You know, Lys, we could do this all day." I pointed my thumb toward the targets behind me. His expression did not change.
I shook my head and crouched beside him to gather several more arrows from the large barrel, their tips sharp and ready. Running my fingers over them, I tossed one lightly into my hand.
"We shall probably end up spending the night here because I won't be able to take another step."
"Whatever pleases Your Highness," he answered in that same monotone voice.
"You're a wall."
"If you say so, Your Highness." I narrowed my eyes and stepped in front of him again, suddenly convinced he might actually be teasing me. He looked at me but said nothing. He set his helmet down and casually adjusted the padded cloth protecting his neck from the metal armor.
"You know what? I actually hope we do stay here overnight, just so I can watch you try to sleep inside that metal shell. And if you start squeaking during the night, I'll pour oil all over you."
I pointed at the joints of his armor, the very ones that occasionally creaked whenever he walked. "Whatever makes my Princess happy."
"Ugh." I turned around and stomped back toward the patch of grass I had worn bare after standing there for the past several hours.
I was hungry.
I was thirsty.
But I refused to leave until something, anything, changed.
"You know," I called over my shoulder as I drew another arrow onto the string, "I can't wait for my ball in a few weeks. At least I'll finally have someone interesting to talk to."
This time, he did not answer.I turned to look at him and, for the first time that day, I noticed a change.
He still stood straight, his arms folded across his chest, but a faint line had appeared between his brows. His lips had lowered ever so slightly into a strange expression, for it was almost a sad one.