"Her words are tormented,
broken and untamed,
a well kept secret
under a careful guise,
that quietly repeats
I'm fine.
I'm fine...
I'm fine..."
-Nikita Gill
"Might," I lick dry lips and taste blood, "I be permitted to speak to the archers present?"
"No."
Her lids flicker, anger sparking starlit eyes to stormy amethyst.
I feel as if I am traversing a thorny path, no matter what way I turn, I will not come out unscathed.
But will I suffer mere scratches or deep wounds bound to scar by the time I find my way out?
No choice. I sense Lord Pruitt's growing animosity, a brush like stinging insects against my mind and it will not be long before he tires of this game he has put into motion.
I must choose and pray it does not cost me more than the humiliation I have suffered already.
I bow my head and give a silent prayer to the Force I have made the right decision, "Then I choose for you...the raven archer."
He already holds my favor, now I must bet my life on it.
"Oh?" The tapping of her nail is driving me to madness, "I am rather curious as to why you favor that one..."
"Lady Alcesta," Lord Pruitt speaks over her, a hard edge in his rough voice, "have you made your choice or shall we sit here debating the merits of common yeoman until nightfall?"
"Lord Leviticus," soft malice sweetens her voice, "you overstep yourself. When did I give you permission to use my name so freely?"
She is not one to be crossed.
I was right to heed my instincts. Her cousin may be the cobra, but she is the viper in their nest.
"Forgive my impatience but the hours grow short."
He does not sound contrite in the least but for once I am in agreement with the man. I too want this over and done with. I tire of splinters digging into my skirt, of bending my head and playing the supplicant.
"So be it." I dare lift my head but her flat gaze is on Lord Pruitt, her displeasure evident , "The 'raven' archer is ours." She looks down at me, her smile would not melt ice, "You may watch. Pray, my pretty maid, you do not make me regret my decision."
I swallow the hollow anger swirling in my breast. I nod and turn away from this spiteful woman unless she catches sight of the fury I feel burning me alive.
I am in time to see Lord Pruitt give a low bow, twisting so his cloak brushes the ground, throwing dust in my eyes. I scrub at them and curse the wretched man as well.
"Archers! Arise and heed my command."
I wish to move closer but it is impossible. I sense if I try to leave her side she will clap an iron chain around my throat, much like the hound they seem to think I have become.
My dark archer and the man of Leese stand at attention.
"You," Lord Pruitt points to my black-clad champion, "have been chosen by the princess royal. Go now and take your-"
A peal of cruel laughter and I need not turn around to know Alcesta has risen from her seat, the stink of her perfume makes my throat itch as she passes by.
"Lord Pruitt, how little you think of me." She rests her hand against his velvet clad arm, "I must insist, as the Lord of Leese, your champion take the first shot."
I see him start, his eyes narrow at her sudden largess. My estimation of his character rises but a fraction.
Despite his desire for the woman, he has not lost all his ability to think.
"My lady outranks me. I would not dare presume to take the first shot."
I shiver to hear his anger. He has not forgiven her for openly dismissing him before his people.
She laughs and pats his arm as if he is some errant lad to make sport of and not a man of years.
"Oh do not be so serious, my lord, for this is all in good jest. Please, I insist."
The hard bite of power beneath the veil of civility and I watch with keen interest when his shoulders slump but a fraction before straightening. He twists to throw off her hand and her lips curve downward for a fraction before glossing over into a winsome smile once more.
"Bowman, to me."
The archer, the one dressed in brown leathers and forest green tunic, bows low before his lord.
"I am at your command, my lord."
"Take your mark and remember you fight for my honor."
The bowman salutes his lord, a jaunty grin on his weathered face. "My arrow has yet to fail. It will not do so now."
I see it then, the slight smile transforming Lord Pruitt from a cold noble to something more human.
"Go. Lamisu favor your arrow."
The bowman presses two fingers to his lips, lifting them to the wind before making his way to the line.
The shot he must make is at least two hundred paces away and the winds stir the leaves with exuberance, making a difficult shot almost impossible.
If he pierces any part of the red, it will surely win him both the prize and his lord's favor.
"You are a worthy rival," the yeoman is speaking to the hooded archer, "but now is the time to show who is the better man. I fight for my wife and child and the honor of my lord, who do you fight for?"
My heart is a prowling creature, fighting against its cage, straining to hear the other's answer. I am both hopeful and apprehensive of how he will answer.
I gave him my favor, as a lark. A fanciful whim. It means nothing.
But my hands are gripped tightly, bones aching and I know it for a lie even in my own mind.
"Take your shot," my archer's response is low but heard by all, "and should you win, there will be no need for my answer."
"When you lose," grunts the yeoman, "I will take your answer as part of my winning's."
A slight nod from my hooded archer. "Best of luck then."
The archer takes his stance, pulling his longbow as far back as he can draw. I see the muscles straining, sweat coating his flesh.
The wind whips his clothing, pulling at the thong keeping his hair in check but he does not loosen his bow.
He counts the breeze, to find the right mark.
It is what my brother Finn would have done should he have been present.
When the wind is nothing more than a whisper, a passing ghost through the field, the bowman releases his arrow.
I gasp, as does everyone else, when it arcs before falling like a star, straight for the painted target. The thud of the arrow as it pierces is like a thunder crack and the page is waiting at the end.
He has a piece of measuring tape in his hand.
"Two centimeters left of the heart!"
The page is shouting to be heard over the wind and the crowd roars, stamping their feet that one of their own should take the prize. Lord Pruitt turns to Alcesta, a satisfied smile curving his thin lips.
"If you wish to concede, my lady, I am graciously willing to accept."
I wait for her answer with an outward calm I do not feel. The yeoman's shot was well nigh perfect. My chosen archer will have to pierce the eye in order to overturn this win for the Lord of Leese.
The king's cousin doesn't answer him outright but motions for the hooded archer to come forward.
He moves two paces, still far enough away that only the hard, sculpted line of his jaw and his full lips are in view.
"Tell me, archer, should I forfeit? Shall I cast my honor aside to salvage my pride? Is this contest already decided as Lord Levicitus seems to believe?"
Contemptuous words as if he is the reason she is about to lose the wager only she and Lord Pruitt know the outcome of.
How I hate the arrogance of these nobles. Blaming the common folk for their own blunders. I feel the guilt weigh heavily in my bones for I am the one who singled him out to this bastard royal and it is not fair he should pay the price.
I watch with growing horror as he turns away from the woman without answering, his gaze on something else entirely.
"Page!" His voice carries such power I swear he could halt an entire battalion, "Leave the arrow!"
The crowd turns as one, the page startles, his hand resting on the shaft about to pull it out.
"S-sir?"
I have to strain to hear the lad so far away.
"What are you playing at archer?"
Lord Pruitt rests both hands on the banister, a frown carving deep grooves around his mouth.. "You turn your back on the lady royal and give my people orders? You must have bollocks of stone to be so impudent before your liege lord. I should clap you in irons and throw you into the stockade."
"I bend no knee to the Lord of Leese," I smother a smile behind my hands to hear my archer speak with such disdain, "I am not one of your citizens."
He turns away from the noble to seek his opponent.
"You spoke earlier about wanting to see who is the better man?" He motions with his gloved hand to the page still waiting at the far end, "This is it."
A shake of the head from the fair-haired archer. "No sir, that is folly. You would spoil your own shot," he gives him a gimlet eye, "and I would not hear you cry foul because of it. Let the arrow be removed."
"If the shot is spoiled then it is as you say, my own mistake. The win will be yours and everyone here is a witness to whom is the better marksman."
I am in agreement with the fair archer. Not even my brother Finn could make such a claim. Only I, with the help of the Force to guide my aim, could hit the target.
You...idiot!
He is a fool and I have bet not only my life, but my honor, on his worthiness.
The fair archer is scratching his head and finally gives another shake. "I am of a mind to let you make a fool of yourself but that is for my lord to decide. He has set the wager and I will abide by his command."
I shiver at the cruel gleam in the lord's hawkspar eyes. He bows before Alcesta. "Your champion makes a claim that will proclaim him a liar or the most skilled marksman in all of Leese, if not Alderaan herself. I am minded to think the former, but you have claimed him for your own, therefore his fate is in your hands."
"How...generous of you, my lord."
Her attention is upon the man I picked and my heart is climbing into my throat, for I cannot discern which way her decision will fall.
A single tap of her nail on the wood and her lips curve up into a secretive smile. "Page! Leave the arrow where it lies. We shall have a true showing of talent this day. Archer, pray your boast is not an empty one."
A short, brief bow from the raven-clad man before taking his stance. The howls of the crowd is enough to make the ears bleed but Lord Pruitt does nothing to quell their enthusiasm for such a spectacle.
Both he and Alcesta resume their place on the dais, sipping at chilled wine as Lord Pruitt crosses his ankles, resting his chin lightly on his fist. His face gives him away, he does not believe the archer will make good on his boast.
"When you are ready, sir."
My fingers feel bruised, bones straining as I grip the fabric of my skirt, unable to breathe.
The wind has picked up, gales snapping the banners as limbs shake silvered leaves from their branches.
My bowman has not stirred, not made any indication he has heard the impatient drawl of Lord Pruitt.
Please...
I do not know what I pray for. For me to survive the rest of this day.
For him to succeed and prove he is not an idiot.
My entire world seems to have narrowed to him. I reach out, existing in a place between my physical self and the Force to touch the energy I sense around him.
Cold, endless darkness...a calm focus it cuts like a blade...power coiling until it builds...!
I gasp, his power driving me to my knees as my mind is thrust back into my physical body. My eyes streaming, I see him loosen his arrow. It speeds towards his target, the wind seemingly frozen and time crawling to a standstill. I watch, unbelieving, as his arrow brushes past the first and buries itself into the heart.
The crowd is screaming, the nobles on their feet, goblets dropped as liquid stains the wood blood-red.
"It...it has pierced the heart! He has won!"
I did not need to hear the pages call, shocked beyond measure, to know my hooded archer has pulled off the impossible.
How...only one trained as a Jedi Knight...I witnessed Master Obi-Wan split an arrow in twain when Poe boasted none could pierce the heart as he did.
"Impossible! You sir! Remove your hood so I might see your face and know you for a liar."
Lord Pruitt on his feet, his wrath quelling the screaming crowd. My archer lowers his arm, turning to the Lord of Leese.
"A liar am I?" Soft words and yet I shiver beneath them, the weight of his anger like a brand against my skin, cold and burning. He lifts his hand and pushes back the hood, revealing his face to the assembly.
A shock of midnight hair, wild and unruly swept back from his face. Eyes of drowning obsidian, reflecting only cold disdain. Sharp, hollowed cheekbones and a long, tapered nose. His mouth pressed into a hard line, cruelly sensual even in his displeasure.
I know his face. I thought him captured, even tortured by the city guard when I abandoned him in the square a day ago.
"Sir Kylo!"
My frantic voice is drowned out by the unexpected laughter filled with malevolent mirth. Lord Pruitt and I are mirrors of one another, shocked by Alcesta's unexpected behavior.
"Lord Kylo! I have heard of you but did not expect to find you in such a place." She puts a delicate hand to her chest as if trying to contain herself, "how...unexpected. It seems the rumors are to be believed after all."
The purr in her voice curdles my gut and makes my fingers itch for a blade. She moves around Lord Pruitt and stands at the edge of the stairs, as if to get a better look.
"My gods," her words are breathless and filled with vicious delight, "now I understand why you are the king's favorite courtier. Your countenance would put to shame every courtesan in Cloud City." She taps a lace fan against her wrist, "It is no wonder the king cannot find himself a suitable bride with you distracting them."
Her words are enough to humiliate any man and I feel heat stinging my cheeks despite the fact the comments were not made for me.
"The lady will damn me with her praise," I watch Kylo make a shallow bow, his eyes black flames, "but I find it odd you should know of me when the king rarely speaks of you, if at all."
I hear her ladies gasp and I quickly hide a smile behind my hands at his insult. There are rumors swirling that the King will choose this cousin as his heir. Yet Kylo's words, if I am hearing correctly, seem to counter such opinions. I watch a muscle tick in Lord Pruitt's jaw, he steps forward to lay a hand on her shoulder, whispering something I cannot hear despite my close proximity.
She shrugs off his hand, dancing away from him. She taps her fan repeatedly against her skirts.
"Careful, Lord Kylo. My champion you may be but that does not change the fact you are a bastard. However, you have won my wager and I am apt to be generous and reward your efforts. I cannot offer you the Autumn Invitation for you hold the king's regard, nor can I poach you into my household for the same reason."
A sigh and the rustle of silk against wood. "You leave me with a debt I cannot pay, putting me into a dilemma. So choose your reward and let us clear this debt."
"You have nothing I desire, Lady Tinely, so I will collect the debt another day."
His dismissal is cutting, as if the lady is undeserving of his attention. She sucks in a harsh breath and takes a step back.
"Your standing with the king has given rise to your arrogance, Lord Kylo. You forget your place if you believe you can speak to me as if I were some common wench."
"If my manners displease the lady, then pray, take your grievance directly to the king."
The silky menace in his voice sends a frisson down my spine and tightens my throat. Even to my eyes, ignorant in the way of court politics, I can see there is bad blood between them.
He is the king's courtier but the cousin holds him in disfavor. Is this man a formidable ally or a new, powerful foe?
I had no answer to the puzzle he presented. I hear it faintly, in the Force or perhaps the voices of those beyond the grave, whispering he is somehow important.
My attention is wrenched back to the situation at hand when Alcesta snaps her fan out, covering her face and takes another step back, as if trying to physically distance herself from him.
"I see no reason to bring such petty trivialities to the king's attention." She deliberately turns her attention back on Lord Pruitt, "I am weary with all of this and shall retire to your estates. Conclude the tourney at your behest."
A swish of skirts and I bow my head as she passes, the tip of my braid touching the wooden floor and I have the urge to sneeze as dust tickles my nose, I am bent so low.
My shoulder blades itch, muscles tensing when she stops, her cold shadow falling across me.
The feel of scratchy lace and smooth wood at my throat as my head is lifted, tipped back so I look up into dark lilac eyes.
Her red mouth is pressed into an unyielding line.
"You have won my wager so I should be grateful."
She doesn't sound grateful and my neck is aching, still tender from her grip earlier. I keep my lips shut tightly, refusing to rise to her baiting tone. She is angry with Kylo and seeks to vent her displeasure on some other hapless creature.
I will give her no such opening.
Her eyes flicker and abruptly her fan is removed from my throat and I can breathe again.
"Minou, pay the merchant what she owed." She does not look directly at the serving woman, her eyes trained on me. "Perhaps I should add you to my retinue."
Alarm sings in my veins and I feel the noose tighten around my throat at her casual words.
"M-my lady," stay calm, stay calm, "your offer is a generous one but I am a maid unwed, beholden to my family. I cannot freely go with you as I am a merchant by trade."
"Yes...your residency is in Aldea? Hm," she taps her fan, "perhaps I should go to the capital and pay my dear cousin a visit. It has been a while since we attended court..."
She appears to be talking to herself, her gaze turning away from me and off into the distance.
"My lady? The purse you requested for the...merchant."
A woman of some younger years, hair of dark gold woven with ribbons and eyes of new grass. She is dressed in a gown of blue velvet, her corset embroidered with gold thread and a ransom of pearls around her neck. She might have been considered comely if not for the sneer twisting her lips.
She is clearly a rich man's daughter.
It doesn't take a Knight to read her and I nearly undue all my good work by laughing out loud.
This maid thinks I desire a position with her lady and is jealous of it.
I might have eased her mind by telling her I had no desire to be anywhere near the lady. In truth, I wish she would have the mind to travel to a different country altogether.
I am certain the climate of Hoth would suit her temperament perfectly.
A satin purse heavy with coin is dropped into my lap.
"Take your payment and be pleased with my patronage as your reward."
I have no time to answer, she leaves with her retinue and finally I can breathe a sigh of relief. I gather up the purse and get to my feet, legs stiff from kneeling in one position too long.
"Get yourself out of my sight girl," Lord Pruitt standing over me and I belatedly remember to curtsey, "and for your sake, do not let me catch you near the princess royal again."
"As you command my lord."
I do not know how I managed to choke out the words but it appears I am humble enough to not invoke his displeasure.
My steps take me down to the field where I see Kylo and the archer in deep discussion.
I note a plain, drawstring purse in the fair-haired archer's hand, as well as the token I wove for that woman earlier in the day. White and green with a silver stamp of a fletched arrow.
I am bemused at the sight. Kylo won the tourney but it is the other who seems to have benefited from it.
The two men clap hands as if old friends.
"Well, Lord Kylo, my wife will thank you for this good fortune and opportunity though I am still in doubt as to why you gave up the prize."
"I spoke in truth, I have no need for either invitation or token."
"What of this?" He jangles the purse, much heavier than the one I carry but Kylo shakes his head.
"I did not enter for the money, I do not lack funds. Take it as well."
"I see," The archer lifts a tawny eyebrow at something I cannot see, "is that your reason for fighting?"
Kylo's mouth turns hard and there is a slight shake of his head. "No. I fight as I always do. For myself."
My heart clenches, a sudden ache in my breast as if I have had the wind knocked out of my lungs.
I knew it. The talk of wanting my favor...it meant nothing to him.
"No doubt our king would be most interested in your answer."
I was startled to hear Lord Pruitt's voice from above. I thought he had left to catch up with the lady and the rest of her party.
Kylo glances upward and the smile he wears is akin to a wolf's head. "You are free to tell him, though he is already aware."
"Lord Kylo, for the sake of peace in my city, I suggest you do not avail yourself to the Lady Tinely while she is in residence."
"I have no need to seek out the lady Lord Pruitt. I shall be gone from your city in due time."
His tone is not quite mocking and I expect Lord Pruitt to call him out on it but to my surprise, he does not. I hear a grunt and the sound of footsteps fading away. It seems the Lord of Leese chose to retire instead of getting into another battle of wits.
How...interesting.
"Excuse me, I have other matters to attend to. Enjoy the rest of the tourney."
I blink, the sound of Kylo's silken voice far too close and I glance away from the dais to see him crossing the field to where I am.
His companion looks on at us with open surprise quickly turning into a knowing grin and I can feel my face redding as if burned.
He touches his cap in my direction with two fingers before slipping away into the crowd.
It is just he and I again, alone once more.
Only there is no hood to hide him from my eyes and I know him for who he is and it is bittersweet.
He cares nothing for me otherwise he would not have answered the way he did.
I curse myself for believing this man, this noble, could have tender feelings. Clearly what we shared, what I felt, was nothing more than a passing amusement for him.
I lift my chin and pretend I do not see his eyes widen when I pass him by. Whatever 'matter' he spoke of to the bowman, I want no part of.
Let him pluck some other maids' hearts, mine is filled with thorns and not the sweet rose.
