Princess Avenger - Brightcastle Saga Book 1 (10 page)

“You ride
well,” he said.

“For a
woman.”

“I didn’t mean
that.”

Alecia frowned
at his earnest expression. “Perhaps you did not. Where did you
learn to ride like that? It is like you are part of the horse.”

He shrugged.
“I’ve spent many hours in the saddle.”

Alecia studied
Swift. The gelding still rolled its eyes, despite the obvious
cooperation between rider and mount. What was the story behind
that? Had the captain beaten the animal into submission? He did not
seem the type to take his anger out on a beast, but she did not
know him well enough to be sure.

She shifted
her attention to the countryside around them. They rode through
open forest on a broad trail that had once been a paved highway. In
ancient times, this road had led to the thriving metropolis of
Amitania on the other side of a low range of mountains. Now all
that remained of the road was the occasional flattened stone
glimpsed through foxtails and other weeds.

There
were many stories about what had become of Amitania. Alecia
favoured the tale of a greedy monarch who had bled his people dry
until the populace revolted and set the city afire. In the inferno
and battle that followed, many had died. Some citizens of
Brightcastle claimed to be descendants of those who fought the
battle of Amitania. Perhaps she needed to remind her father of that
story. There was no need for Brightcastle to suffer the same
fate
-- and it would not
while she had breath in her body.

As they rode,
Alecia spoke of Amitania and the various theories relating to the
fall of the city. He listened intently.

“You know,” he
said, “I like the one that tells how a powerful wizard ensorcelled
the citizens of Amitania so that they hoarded wealth and were
overcome with hate and suspicion.”

“I would not
have taken you for a man who believed in fairy tales.”

His eyes bored
into hers. “There is much in the world that ordinary folk don’t
understand, Princess.”

“I did not say
that I was an unbeliever, Captain.” Her comment seemed to silence
her companion and his gaze strayed to the surrounding forest.

Alecia sighed.
She could not relax in Vard Anton’s presence. The muscles across
her shoulders tightened as their journey continued. It seemed odd
that her father should suggest an outing when he feared for her
safety. That meant there must be another motive for the ride… but
what? To get her out of the way? Or was the prince’s purpose to
remove Captain Anton from the castle?

Her mood
darkened further and she made a conscious effort to shrug off
thoughts of her father. Instead, Alecia focused on the warmth of
the sun on her back and the sway of the horse beneath her. There
had been few moments like this lately. Her eyes meandered over her
surroundings. The yellow flowers of lady’s fingers on their long
stalks bordered the road and late hyacinths reared their
violet-blue flowers amongst the trees. The rough bark of the oak
made a stunning contrast with the smooth trunks of the beech, and
all wore the striking golden hue of approaching winter. Fat
squirrels skittered about, gathering their last acorns and
chattering at the passers-by who dared disturb their foraging.

Vard Anton
observed the forest too but his gaze held the wary scrutiny of the
guard. He reminded her of the spectacular black and gold-banded
hawk that she had seen the day before, with his gilded eyes and
piercing gaze.

“Can you not
relax and enjoy the ride?”

He did not
take his eyes from the trees. “Your safety is my responsibility.
What would I tell your father if bandits were to overwhelm us
because I was gazing at the trees and the flowers?”

“You think
there is danger in these woods?”

“There is
danger everywhere, but no immediate threat that I can’t
handle.”

“You are a
confident man.”

“I know my
abilities, Princess.”

That was all
he said, and she found herself believing he could handle anything
that presented itself, despite the vulnerability he had shown her
last night.

Her silence
attracted his attention.

“I’ve
frightened you again, Princess. I’m sorry.”

Alecia’s face
heated, remembering the last time the captain had shocked her. Now
that his eyes were upon her, she found it impossible to banish the
memories of his bare skin. They were almost at the perimeter of the
forest. The archery field lay through the woods and over the hill.
She booted her mare and Silver leaped ahead once more. Alecia
didn’t stop until she arrived at the practice range, panting almost
as hard as her horse.

Captain
Anton reined in beside her, his face like a statue carved from
granite
-- except for a
muscle that twitched along the line of his jaw. He dismounted,
dropped their weapons into the grass of the meadow and stalked off
with Swift to a tree, where he tied the gelding. Alecia bit her lip
as she stared at the captain’s back. Had she pushed him too far
this time?

Dismounting,
Alecia led her mare to the same tree and tied her up without
looking at the captain. She collected her yew bow from the pile and
slung the quiver of arrows over her shoulder. The practice field
was a grassy paddock 400 paces long and 200 paces wide, with mounds
built at intervals down the length. The first mound with its
practice target stood 100 paces away. There were other mounds at
150, 200, 250 and 300 paces.

At this time
of day, with the sun over her right shoulder, the shooting should
be easy. She pulled a sharpened practice arrow from her quiver and
nocked it, sighting along the arrow all the way to the 150-pace
target with its yellow bullseye. Her hand shook with the effort of
pulling back the string. She breathed out, let her mind empty of
everything except the target, and was gratified to see the arrow
fly to the crimson ring, adjacent to the bullseye.

“Stop.” The
captain’s voice came from behind her.

Alecia lowered
her bow and turned to him.

“
First
you gallop off without me and now you charge at this task like a
rabid wolf.
You make my
job of caring for your safety difficult, to say the
least.”

“I am simply
having a little fun,” she said, her own anger rising. “The Mother
knows I have had little enough of that lately.”

“From where I
stand, your life seems full of it,” he said, his voice harsh.

Alecia thought
of the two dead mercenaries and Jorge. If only Vard Anton knew the
truth. “You think that because my father is the prince I don’t know
hardship and discipline? Try being raised by servants who only care
for you because they are paid to. Or consider my father’s brand of
discipline, which is to throw me in the dungeon if I do not obey
him.”

“Your father
may be unfair in his dealings with his subjects but you’re his
daughter. I don’t believe he’d imprison you.”

“He is my
father and I love him, but I do not deceive myself. He would sell
me off to the highest bidder if it were to his advantage.”

He was silent
for several minutes. “Perhaps you know some hardship in your own
way, but you don’t know discipline. I intend to teach you restraint
and control before you break your neck or kill someone.”

Alecia
frowned.
Too
late
. “Go ahead, let us
see what you can teach me.”

He reached for
her bow, long fingers caressing the golden wood, and Alecia noted
again the ridged scar on the back of his left hand. She did not see
it as a blemish. Fighting men carried many scars, all souvenirs of
past battles. The captain would have other marks, tokens of his
bravery. Once more the image of his naked body filled her mind and
she imagined her hands on his skin, exploring, finding all those
scars he must assuredly carry. Vard Anton’s voice brought her
wanton thoughts back to the present.

“Even this
weapon proves my point,” he said. “What I wouldn’t have given for a
weapon of this quality when I learned the bow.”

“I am no
beginner.” Alecia’s heart raced and her face burned in the
aftermath of her daydream, but the captain would only think her
angry at his remark about her being a beginner. He would never
guess the real cause of her agitation.

“We’ll see.”
He reached behind her and pulled another arrow from her quiver.
Alecia felt his breath against her cheek and stifled a gasp. He
smirked as he nocked the arrow to the string. With one fluid
motion, he marked the target and drew the string to his ear. The
arrow thudded into the 150-pace target, dead centre.

Alecia stared
at the target, determined to keep any expression from her face. “A
good shot, Captain. Now try the 200-pace target.”

He raised an
eyebrow then stooped and slung his quiver over his shoulder. An
arrow was in his hand, nocked and released before Alecia realized.
Her eyes sought the 200-pace target and she was unsurprised to see
the bullseye hit once again. But it could not continue. She had
never seen anyone hit the bullseye at 300 paces. Vard did not
pause. His arrow slammed into the bullseye at 250 paces and then,
miraculously, at 300.

She stared.
How was it possible? “That is one of the most extraordinary feats I
have ever seen.” A strong man could shoot the longbow that distance
although not with the accuracy the captain displayed.

“I’d like to
say I could teach you to replicate the shot, Princess, but I fear
you haven’t the strength.”

“Or the
vision,” Alecia murmured. “I can barely see that target, let alone
hit it.” What else was he capable of? The blood roared in her ears
and for a moment Alecia feared she would swoon. She could not let
him see how his abilities affected her. “Would you care to
duplicate the feat?”

He grinned and
proceeded to place four more arrows alongside the others. What
manner of man was he?

“Now it’s your
turn, Princess.”

Alecia had to
wipe her hands on her skirts before she took her longbow back.
Their fingers brushed as the bow exchanged hands and the contact
sent a tingle down her spine. She almost dropped the weapon but
took herself in hand, angry at allowing him to put her off
balance.

Vard Anton
immediately moved alongside her as she took up her shooting stance.
His hand brushed her right thigh and her heart almost leaped into
her throat.

“I’ve found
that to open your stance a little helps with balance,” he said.

Alecia took a
deep breath, willing her heart back to a normal pace, and moved her
right foot further from her body. She raised the bow and nocked an
arrow.

“Roll your
elbow slightly out, Princess,” he said.

She tried to
comply but her companion had to run his hand down her arm to
demonstrate the positioning. Her skin burned through the fine silk
fabric of her sleeve. He felt as hot as the sun. She lifted her
head to sight the target at 150 paces and tried to make its golden
centre the core of her concentration. It was not easy with the
musky scent of her instructor clogging her wits. She drew back the
string until it came level with her nose.

“You must draw
it further for real distance.” His hands were suddenly on her
shoulders, his thumbs probing the muscles either side of her spine.
“Use these muscles to help you draw the string.”

Alecia’s
worst fear
-- that the
archery would bring her into close physical contact with Vard Anton
-- had come to fruition. She told herself it was just a lesson. His
touch meant nothing, but the excitement that darted through her
body made it difficult to keep her focus.

The new
technique allowed her to draw the string to her cheek. She sighted
and loosed the arrow, maintaining her stance until the missile hit
the target. This time she achieved the outer ring of the
bullseye.

“Very good,”
he said. “An improvement on your first effort, which was ill
disciplined. Now, repeat the lesson until you land two dead
centre.”

He watched and
corrected as Alecia sent arrow after arrow into the target.
Finally, she had two she could claim. Her arms shook with
fatigue.

They walked
with their bows to the targets. The practice missiles were easy to
pull from the boards, even for one of her puny strength. At the
300-pace target, their hands met on the last arrow. Alecia tried to
release the missile but he held onto her fingers. Did he sense the
energy between them? Her eyes rose to his and she found him staring
down at her. Her stomach fluttered and her head spun. His arm came
around her waist as her knees buckled.

“Princess …?
Alecia?”

Her name
on his lips sounded glorious, his voice rich with the promise of
long kisses and strong arms and… What was wrong with her? The
captain’s splendid eyes were now full of concern.
Am I lying down?
How did that happen?
Her
quiver was uncomfortable against her back but she wouldn’t let her
gaze leave his.

“Alecia, talk
to me.”

His hand
cupped her face and pulled her quiver out from under her. She
relaxed against the warm grass, with a long sigh.

“Alecia!” He
sounded worried now.

The spinning
in Alecia’s head slowed and she was able to focus on the whole of
his face. Why was he upset? “What is wrong?”

“Thank the
Goddess! You’re back with me. I was stupid to push you so
hard.”

Alecia tried
to sit up and he helped to prop her against the base of the
target.

“I’ll fetch
some water,” he said and went to rise.

“Do not leave
me!” Alecia grabbed at his sleeve. “I will be well in a moment and
we can walk together to the horses.”

Instead of
rising, he sat beside her, leaned his head against the target and
closed his eyes. After a moment he sighed and turned to her. “We’ll
travel back to Brightcastle when you’re ready,” he said, voice
strained, and Alecia was sure the gilt flecks of his irises were
more pronounced. He stood up and strode away, tension in every
movement.