This is my first update on the new system thingie, and it took me a little while to figure out. I'm sorry this is a day late, but I was gone all day yesterday. Better late than never, I guess.
Sirenic Griffin (?): Hey. I don't think your name came through, so I'm sorry if it's not you. Personal experiences? Well, that's... er... personal? Haha. No, I've never been that position, really. I remember world religion. I had to do Islam. Then we had to make up our own religion. I don't even remember what mine was called, but it had to do with the five elements, Fire, Water, Air, Earth, and Light, I think.
fell4adeadguy: Yeah. The assassin is bidingtheir time, plus Jarrod's taking some huge precautions, so it's been a little hard on the poor killer.
Tiger Lily21: Yeah, but as far as we know, Belinda is still on Tolaro, married to some mysterious figure. Intrigued yet? Yes, there are so many more unanswered questions, and I'm keeping them unanswered until later. It'll take a couple chapters before they are totally comfortable in their marriage, but they're stubborn people. They'll make it work. Innocent romance is totally cool! In some characters it just works, especially when they are younger characters. I love your stories so much! They always make me happy.
littlelambug: Oo, frizzly. How is Fiona acting annoying? Just out of curiousity, because I think that's almost a good thing that she's acting a little annoying. Makes her more human, eh?
Phillipa of the Phoenix: He will find out. Hopefully. Before they both collapse underneath all the weight of guilt and stuff.
little miss tiny shoes: I'm glad you like it! Jarrod is carrying far too much baggage.
panemonium: Tyrell loves his brother so much. He realises how much responsibility that Jarrod takes on himself, and tries hard to make sure Jarrod doesn't collapse under the strain. Of course he was trying to push her away. Otherwise, she wouldn't have left, and Jarrod may have done something that he regretted. He did the same thing when he was telling her he was leaving, remember? You're right about Fiona wanting to do stuff. She's not really the sit around and do nothing type of person. Thank you for the comments on the update thing! I love trying to make them up.
wishingIcouldthinkofsomething: Heehee, you're welcome. I really enjoyed writing the chapter. Those portraits have appeared in every story of mine, so they obviously needed to be in this one. Plus, it set the mood for Fiona's contemplative entrance. Wee! Now if only they would confess how much they loved each other, that would solve a lot of problems.
CalliopeMused: Thank you! I'm glad you think my characters aren't cliché. I try to base them a little bit off of people I know in order to make them a bit more real, if you know what I mean.
rootbeergirl19: I don't know. I slept pretty much all that day, though, so I'm better now. :cD
Areida Rivers: I actually have a story that I'm think about getting published that I write a little bit on now and then. It's far from complete, but I've always wanted to write a book. They're so much fun. But thank you for that awesome compliment! I love Fiona so much. She's my soul-sister.
Glitterpoison: Ooh, I love the new name. It just gives me such a picture in my head of glittery poison ((rolls eyes at self)) but it's green for some reason. I don't know why. Oh well. Thanks for the review!
Glaze: Of course he has a secret! Well, it's not really a secret secret, but it's something that he did in the past that has haunted him since. That's what makes him so sad all the time. Hmm... I'm not going to tell you if you're right. At least, not yet.
Thank you all for the marvellous reviews! This is kind of a poofy chapter (meaning which, nothing really happens, it's just set up for somethings that are happening later) so, I'm sorry. Next week, though, woo!
Lulai
Chapter Twenty-One: Archery
Crash!
"Oh, bugger it all!" a familiar female voice swore.
Fiona woke reluctantly, stretching. Her bed was extremely comfortable, and she wondered who was making such a racket this early in the morning. Perhaps if she just rolled over and snuggled back into the pillows, the noise would go away and she could sleep some more.
"Sorry, milady, or should I say yer majesty?" the voice continued. Fiona sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
"Elsie?" she asked groggily.
"In tha flesh," the girl said happily. She bent to pick a piece of bacon off the floor. "I'm sorry ta have woke ye, yer majesty, but I've been hauling yer stuff in all mornin', an' might I say, ye sleep like the dead, milady, but apparently sometime between when I hauled in yer dresses an' when I went ta get yer basket, someone brought in brunch. I've knocked most of it over, but we might be able to salvage some."
"Brunch?" Fiona said, groaning. "What time is it?"
"It's almost noon, milady."
"Noon?" Fiona's eyes shot open. "Good Lord, I've been in bed all morning? I was going to see my family off!"
"Ye had a late night, milady," Elsie said, pouring her a cup of chocolate out of the half-full kettle. "Yer family went on their ways right as rain. Nothin' too excitin' happened. It's not like Lady Bernadette dropped her baby right then an' there, although tha way her husban' was hovrin' aroun' her, you think that she might've."
"Regardless, you should have woken me," she admonished, before drinking half the cup. It was really very good. "I don't know when I'll see them again."
"My apologies, ma'am." She rustled about in her apron. "Here. This is fer ye." She handed Fiona a letter. She opened it.
Dear Fiona, she read while sipping her chocolate, I've heard that your getting married. Although I am very sad that you will not be visiting us anymore, I'd like to offer my felicitations (that's my word of the day!) to you and that nice man that you were with. I hope he treats you well. Love, Jamie.
Underneath, there was a more childish scrawl. My mum told me your getting marryd. thats good. I hope you hav a baby girl. or a boy. if you hav a boy, you shoud name him Bently, after my bettle. Luv, Allie.
Fiona couldn't help the sigh that escaped her throat. At the rate they were going, an heir was very far in the future.
She had spent a lot of time lying awake, reliving the awful scene in Jarrod's bedroom. A scene made all the more awful by the sheer fact that it wasn't awful at all. It was thrilling, intoxicating, intense. So why had she stopped?
Her body certainly hadn't wanted to stop. It was ready and willing to go ahead and experience everything Jarrod had to offer. But then she had remembered the circumstances around their marriage and she'd panicked. He wanted an heir; that was his main objective. And while she wasn't looking for a declaration of love, she wanted him to need her just as much as she needed him.
That was the true reason she had stopped. She had been scared. Scared of the need that had bubbled inside her. Because until that awareness hit her, it hadn't mattered that she was a virgin, or that they were going to make love on a wall, or that Jarrod was more feverish than gentle. She wanted him – any way he would give himself. And she had been self-reliant for so long, that when Jarrod had taken that self-control away, she froze.
And then he did. She could still remember the look on his face. Anger, disappointment, disgust, but whether it was directed at her or at himself, she didn't know.
And then he had put on that infuriatingly polite tone that made her feel like an utter fool. As if he were king, and she were just some annoying peasant that he was trying to get rid of. It always made her want to scream at him. She hadn't really wanted to stop, but her darn pride just wanted to know that she wasn't just a replacement for the one that got away!
She really needed to hit something.
"Elsie?" she asked suddenly, surprising the maid who was busy inspecting the flowers on her dresser.
"Aye?"
"Are all my things here?"
Elsie nodded her head.
"Good." Fiona climbed out of bed, flinging open her closet. She picked out one of her simpler brown dresses.
"Let me, milady," Elsie said, assisting Fiona into her gown. Fiona walked over to where a long wooden case was leaning against the wall. She opened it and pulled out her long bow.
"If anyone asks where I am, I'll be at the archery range," she said.
She marched down the stairs in a purposeful manner until she realised she had no clue where the archery range was. She stopped the first maid she saw.
"Do you know where the archery range is?"
The maid looked down her nose at Fiona and replied, "An' why would ye want ta know?"
Fiona realised that the woman didn't know who she was. With her brown dress and no sash or crown signifying her rank, she might just look like a lady's maid. She decided to go along with the part.
"His majesty wanted me ta return his bow there," she said, doing the best imitation of the commoners' accent that she could.
The woman was apparently satisfied. "Go down ta tha stables an' turn left," she said with a disdainful sniff. "Walk past tha barracks an' go in tha second door."
"Thank ye," Fiona said with a curtsy. She followed the woman's directions and found herself right in the middle of an apparent target practise.
"What do ye want?" a rough voice asked.
"I'm here to shoot," she said in her loftiest tone.
"Ye?" the headmaster, a great burly man with a scar that ran from the corner of his nose to the bottom of his jaw, asked incredulously.
"Yes, I do," Fiona said calmly. "I've brought my own bow, and since technically, this is my range, I would like to shoot."
"Hear that lads? Tha li'l lady wants ta shoot!" The man threw back his head and laughed. "Well, any newcomer must face off against this here lad, Parkin. He's our best shot. Parkin!" the man bellowed.
"Fine," Fiona ground out. If she had to beat this fellow in a shooting match to be allowed to shoot in her archery range, then so be it.
She stepped up to the line, and eyed the targets. They were simple bulls-eyes painted on thin boards of wood that were hanging on bushels of hay. She had made similar ones at home.
"I'll let the gentleman proceed, if he would so desire," Fiona said graciously.
"Nay," Parkin replied. "Ladies first."
"Very well." Fiona stepped up to the line and pulled an arrow out of the quiver in the floor. She knocked and aimed, letting the arrow fly. It landed in the yellow centre with a satisfying 'thunk'.
She turned and smiled at Parkin. "Your turn."
Parkin also fired, and his arrow landed in the centre, right beside hers.
"Thank ye, milady," he said with an answering grin.
Fiona frowned. This was going to be harder than she thought.
…
She wasn't going to lose; she wasn't! Fiona blew a lock of hair off her face as she took aim for the umpteenth time. Her arms were starting to shake with the exertion, but she ignored it. Parkin and she were shot for shot. After it was established that they were decidedly equals (which took about ten shots), the men settled that they would shoot rounds, the best out of twenty, with each round moving the target farther back, until one beat the other. They were approaching the end of round three. She only had three shots left.
She fired, smiling in triumph as her arrow landed with deadly accuracy. The smile quickly turned to a frown as his arrow hit its mark as well.
She pulled out her next arrow and knocked it. She drew back, her fingers and arm burning in protest, and locked in. She fired. This one hit the very edge of the yellow circle. She sighed in relief, but almost groaned when Parkin shot dead centre.
She drew back, but her bow was vibrating so badly she couldn't even aim. She tried to steel her arm, but it was just too tired. She shot and hit the outer blue ring.
The men behind her let out sympathetic grunts. She lowered her bow so that the lower tip was on the ground and rested her hands on the top of it. Parkin shot his last arrow and it landed centre like all the rest.
Fiona blinked back tears. She didn't know why she felt like crying, but she didn't want the men to think badly of her. She wanted to accept the defeat graciously.
"Good shooting," she said quietly, admiring the way her voice didn't shake at all, as if it didn't phase her.
"Aye," the headmaster boomed, coming up to both of them. "That was a display of tha best archery I've seen in me years here. Ye're welcome ta shoot with us here lads any time ye want."
Fiona looked at him in disbelief. "But I lost!" she protested.
The man's eyes twinkled. "I didna say ye had ta win," he said with a smile, "I only said ye had ta play."
Fiona was struck speechless for a few seconds, but then laughed. "Then I will be happy to join you," she said. She made a face. "But first, I need to give my arm a rest."
Parkin laughed. "Me too. T'was a close race. Ye're an excellent shot. Where'd ye learn that?"
Fiona smiled. "My father at first, then I taught myself."
"The name's Hale," the headmaster said.
"I'm Fiona," she replied, sticking out her hand. He shook it firmly, engulfing her hand in his meaty paw.
"Fiona, I should put ye in charge o' these bunch o' scallywags," he said, motioning to a group of boys about thirteen or fourteen years of age who had been fetching the arrows from Fiona and Parkin's contest. "Teach 'em ta basics o' bow care. I would be eternally grateful. I hate havin' ta teach that lesson. I do it about ten times a year an' believe ye me, it gets almighty borin'."
"I would be happy to help out," Fiona said, beaming. She had a purpose here!
Jarrod marched up to the entrance of the archery range, unsure of quite what he was going to find. He had woken up in a foul mood, and after snarling at Robertson, fighting with his brother, and being in general an ill-mannered oaf, he decided to take a ride to cool off his temper.
He had taken an armed escort (he was angry, not suicidal) and ridden Thunderbolt into the fields behind Castle Fer Drewery until he felt a bit more like he could deal with the world. He had made his way back to the castle in a better mood, intent on having dinner with his new wife, and maybe starting to get to know her better.
He knocked on her door, holding a bouquet of flowers, feeling a little bit self-conscious. Her maid opened the door.
"Oh! Yer majesty!" she said with a curtsy. "I'm afraid milady ain't here right now, but she told me ta tell ye that she's out at tha archery range if ye came lookin'. She's been out there since she got up this mornin' which was more like this afternoon now that I think about it. Anyway, that's where she is. What lovely flowers! I'll take 'em from ye an' put 'em in a vase for her. She'll love them! Thank ye."
Jarrod handed over the flowers, feeling a little off-centre from the maid's talking, and was now making his way to his wife and whatever she was doing in the archery range.
"Now, stretch the loop over the top of the bow, gripping your bow tightly. The last thing we want is for it to go flying and take out an eye."
Jarrod entered the doorway and saw his wife instructing a horde of young boys on how to care for their weapons.
"No, no, Jameson, bring your string up to your bow, not the other way around," she instructed a young red haired lad. "That's better."
"Yer majesty?" Hale asked him quietly. Besides his brother and cousin, and now his wife, Hale was probably the closest person to Jarrod. Before the incident, back when Marcus was set to taking the throne, Jarrod had spent most of his time in the barracks, learning all the ways to defend his castle. His brother had always been the diplomatic one, and Jarrod wanted to make sure he had an aggressive side, even if it was in a brother.
"I'd like to speak to my wife, privately, if you wouldn't mind, Hale," Jarrod said.
"O' course," Hale said.
"Alright, ye lazy gits," he bellowed at the boys, "we're gonna go learn what type o' wood ta make arrows from ever ye're lost in tha woods. Let's go!"
The boys, excited for a trip into the woods, stood up eagerly. They emptied out beside Jarrod.
Fiona sat on a bench at the back of the little platform, polishing her bow. He picked up a bow from where one of the boys had dropped it and sat down beside her. They sat like that, in silence, for a while, before Jarrod opened his mouth. Fiona interrupted him.
"Are we going to pretend like last night never happened?" she asked quietly. "Because I don't know if I can."
Oh, dear, sweet, blunt Fiona! He let out a small chuckle. "I don't think that either of us are good enough actors for that."
She laughed along with him softly. "You're right. But it doesn't stop me from feeling foolish."
Jarrod toyed with the string on the bow so he wouldn't have to look at her. "Do you feel foolish because we went as far as we did, or because we stopped from going farther?" Why was he torturing himself like this?
"Both," she said, rubbing her forehead and laughing humourlessly. "I feel foolish for both, and I can't believe I'm telling you this. You always seem to make me talk too much."
Something swelled in his chest, making Jarrod feel almost giddy. "I feel foolish too," he confessed.
She turned to look at him, a confused look drawing a line between her brows. "You do?"
"Yes. There were a few things I could have done differently." Like location. Seducing her against his wall wasn't probably the most romantic thing he could have done. He should have probably toned down the intensity as well.
He took her hand in his. Her calluses were bright red and felt hot under his fingers. He pressed his lips to them lightly, and that pretty blush came to her cheeks. "I have not been with a woman in a while," –forever, it felt like some days– "and you're very beautiful and attractive. It was only natural that I lost my head a little around you."
"I'm not that beautiful."
Jarrod gave her a half-smile. Did she have that little faith in her own appearance? "On the contrary, Fiona. You are that beautiful."
"Jarrod…"
"You're not allowed to say anything unless you're agreeing with me."
Fiona had to laugh at that. "Alright, I'll let that pass."
"But in the end," he continued seriously, "it is your choice. I promised you that."
"But it can't be forever," Fiona said with a trace of bitterness in her voice. "You need heirs."
"My needing heirs come second behind your being comfortable. I do not want you to rush things merely to fulfil my needs."
Fiona's mouth turned into a little surprised 'O'. He decided he liked surprising his wife. She had such interesting expressions.
"So why are you here?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I really needed to shoot something," she said, with a slightly embarrassed grin. "Why are you here?"
"I was going to invite you to have an informal dinner with me," Jarrod said, "after which, I was going to show you the library." He rubbed absently at his arm.
Fiona stood up, deciding that she was starving, ever since she skipped both breakfast and lunch (both of which were not her fault).
"I'd be delighted to have dinner with you Jarrod," she said as he also stood. He took her free arm, leaving the boy's bow on the bench. "But be prepared to be interrogated."
"On what?" Jarrod asked, inwardly nervous.
"The normal things that husband and wife should know about each other," Fiona said, waving her bow expressively. "Favourite colour, food, story, biggest fear, fondest memory, those sorts of things."
Jarrod nodded and smiled. "I can do that."