Dayton narrows his gaze and grins. “Hmm, the training grounds look good with a few more feathery decorations.”
I grimace, looking at the collection of arrows dotting the far wall. My first request upon returning to Castletree was to be taught how to defend myself. I’d expected Keldarion to put up a fuss, but he’d agreed it was a good idea. Though I left out my inspiration for this plan. Caspian’s words from the battlefield come roaring back to me: Those princes are ever foolish; they should have taught you to defend yourself.
But it’s not all because of the Prince of Thorns. I hated watching the princes go off to battle and feeling left behind and useless. So, I’ll practice my magic, my thorns, and I’ll use the tools of this world. I have no intention of leaving the Enchanted Vale. But this world isn’t like the human one. I must learn to survive, and that means being able to protect myself.
Dayton’s been at Castletree the most of all the princes. He’d been teaching me the fundamentals of each weapon before he would leave for a quick visit to check on his sister in the Summer Realm. Training is the only time we’ve spent together.
Farron told me not to worry about Dayton’s avoidance. He’s been living with the mood swings of the Summer Prince for years. I don’t understand how Dayton could make love to us like that, with such passion, and then be so distant.
Farron said Dayton will be falling into bed with us before we know it. But what if he’s wrong? What if Dayton was looking for his mate in the Summer Realm? It’s better that I don’t know.
I’m not sure I could bear it. I was so certain that night we spent in the Autumn Realm, the night we had almost made love … I thought the same magical light that had bloomed between Kel and me was happening between us.
Three mates, Rosalina? I chide myself. I can’t keep them all.
“Okay, show me up close.” Dayton waves an idle hand, drawing me from my thoughts. “Hit the target.”
With renewed determination, I retrieve another arrow and notch it in my bow. Pulling my arm back, I line up the bullseye in my sight, then let loose the arrow. It strikes the wooden wall behind the target.
“Arg!” I say, frustrated. “I don’t understand. I’m doing everything you do! Finger in the proper position, elbow raised, and—”
“That’s the problem, Rosalina,” Dayton says, stepping closer. “You’re very smart. We all know that. But you’re thinking of all these things separately.”
“What—”
Then he’s behind me, and because he’s Dayton, he’s not wearing a shirt. I feel his muscular skin against the training garb Flavia fitted me in: a white dress with shorts underneath and a leather chest piece for protection.
Though when Dayton had first seen me in the outfit, I wasn’t sure if he wanted to teach me or …
“Are you paying attention?” He’s grabbed an arrow. With his hands over mine, he starts guiding my movements. “You know what to do. Trust your body. When you shoot a bow, it’s not all separate things, it’s an extension of you. It’s a feeling.”
“I don’t think a feeling is going to help me hit a goblin,” I sneer.
His face is close enough I can smell the sweet wine on his lips. “Feel for the heartbeat of the bow, the pulse of the string. Visualize where it will land.”
I try not to scoff at him, but let myself become fluid, his arms over mine as we pull the string back together.
“Find your anchor, a calm in the storming waves around you.”
I inhale deeply, tasting salt on my tongue, feeling the sand beneath my feet and the heat of his touch like a blazing sun.
“That’s my girl,” Dayton breathes, releasing his hold and stepping back.
Warmth blooms through me, and I narrow that focus to the goblin target and release.
The arrow whizzes, striking the target and exploding in a spray of water.
A spray of water?
“W-what?” Dayton calls.
I can’t even celebrate finally hitting the target because all I can do is stare at the wet sand beneath the utterly destroyed goblin target. There’s a hole through its belly, straw sticking out at strange angles.
Both Ezryn and Farron jump up. “Did you use water magic?” Ezryn asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Not just any water,” Farron says, leaning in front of the target. “Seawater.”
Shells and seaweed cover the sand. But there’s no arrow to be seen.
“That wasn’t me,” Dayton says.