LXP: This chapter is told with a mixture of second-person/omniscient and third-person perspective. Also one of those "let's get this over with" chapters, so pardon the hastiness.
Enjoy! :)
CHAPTER NINE:
THE ARCHERY TOURNAMENT
Marinette moved through the sea of tents, keeping her eyes peeled for the Sheriff or any of Chloe's guards, until she arrived at her destination.
With a deep, ragged breath that made her throat abnormally dry, Marinette eased the tent flap open with careful fingers and peered inside.
Adrien had his back to her. He was kneeling over his quiver, fumbling with the loosened strap and trying to tighten it up. His shoulder blades poked against the back of his tunic as he worked, and the sight of them made Marinette's cheeks warm underneath her fake moustache.
Just then, the lordling's golden head lifted up, and it was eerily quiet inside the tent. Adrien didn't flinch or move a finger. He just kneeled there like a hunter waiting for his prey to look away.
Marinette actually considered backing away and lowering the flap... when her beloved's intrigued voice stopped her:
"Only one person I know can sneak up behind me."
Marinette froze, trying not to gasp. He even sounds the same! she thought.
"The funny thing is," Adrien continued, his head cocking to the side with sly curiousness, "I haven't seen her in four years. Perhaps I'm just imagining things. Perhaps I... I want to believe she's here, after all this time."
That fluttery shock inside Marinette's heart eased off, and a joyous smile grew on her face. "I'd say you're imagining things," she said in her normal voice; softly so that no one else could hear... but still carrying that playful edge.
A small chuckle escaped Adrien, and Marinette knew he was smiling too.
The lordling stood up slowly. "Is it safe?" His tone was laced with caution.
She knew what he meant.
In one quick movement, she stepped fully into the tent, and the flap drew shut behind her.
In another quick movement, her moustache was off and her wig and hat were swept behind her head, revealing her frizzled mop of midnight-blue hair.
"You tell me," Marinette whispered with a sultry slur.
Adrien turned around. He saw her. He grinned.
It was the most wonderful thing Marinette could ever hope for.
"Love the eyepatch," Adrien said, his mouth curling up in one corner.
Oh, darn it! Marinette scowled and lifted the thing up, blinking her vision back to normal. "Love the Cat Noir look," she commented back. "All you need now is a mask and a tail to go with your swagger."
This time, Adrien's grin broke across his face.
Then, he moved faster than the snapping jaws of an alligator.
Marinette caught him just as he caught her, and suddenly she was being twirled off the ground, and she was gathering his golden hair in her fingers as she nestled against his shoulder, and she breathed in his leathery noble smell, and she smiled from the warmth of him pressing against her thundering chest.
She was floating on a cloud, basking in the rays of the sun and letting it still her blood and her veins.
When she came back down to earth, Adrien was embracing her tighter and sighing into her ear, "I've missed you... I've missed you so much, Milady."
Marinette giggled, her heart flooding with relief while all the years of misery and doubt faded away. "I've missed you too, silly kitty," she whispered. "Every day."
They eased apart and stared into each other's eyes: emerald and aquamarine; earth and sky.
"I know I shouldn't be here..." Marinette began, her voice shaking.
"But I'm glad you are," Adrien finished for her, brushing a finger along her face. "I told you we'd see each other again."
Marinette closed her eyes, the soft caress of his hand sending a watery shiver down her spine. By the king's good name, how she missed this!
"I know," she said, opening her eyes just so she could recapture his smile in her memory. "I never stopped believing it. I was just..." She swallowed, her cheeks creasing with guilt. "I was afraid you would actually heed my advice and marry a wealthy, blonde heiress who would throw you such extravagant parties."
Adrien snorted. "Trust me. I've had my fill of "extravagant" parties. And besides, I prefer blunettes."
Only then did Marinette realize that his nose was barely touching hers, and her lips tingled from his breath upon them. She longed to stand up on her toes and kiss him. Maybe, just for a moment...
DaaDaaDaaDAAAAAA!
Marinette and Adrien gasped, straightening back as trumpets sounded outside the tent.
The lordling's grumble of annoyance reminded the blunette of an angry cat. "It's starting," he said.
The tournament. Right. Of course.
Marinette cursed herself. Why didn't she just say what she came here to say? Why did she have to lose her focus? What if she never got another chance?
But she forced herself to not lose hope. She merely reached back into her quiver and pulled something out.
It wasn't an arrow, but it was red. And it still struck Adrien so swiftly that it made his eyes widen when it saw it.
"Here," Marinette said, extending it to her childhood friend with a loving smile. "My favour. Take it as a promise."
She took his hand and curled his fingers around her gift before grasping both of them staunchly, her bluebell eyes never leaving Adrien's astounded green ones.
"When this is over, I'll tell you everything," Marinette vowed. "Everything."
Adrien stared at the rose he now held in his hand. When he looked back up at his lady, his face softened with understanding and unwavering loyalty. "I wish you luck, Milady... with all my heart," he added that last bit with a purr.
Marinette sighed, gave him one loving glance, and then let go.
In one effortless motion, the outlaw slapped her moustache and eyepatch back on. Then, she yanked down her brown wig and hat before tearing out of the tent in the blink of an eye.
Even after his beloved was gone, Adrien never stopped smiling.
She came! She managed to slip under Chloe's nose and find him after all!
How long the ruse would last, Adrien couldn't be certain. But he was certain of one thing: his lady still loved him enough to risk exposure and come here to see him. His greatest wish was finally answered.
The lordling lifted the red rose to his nostrils and breathed in deeply, savouring the earthy fragrance. He sighed, feeling like he could take on all the troubles of the world without a hitch.
He hooked the rose onto his quiver pin and grinned with content when it stayed there. No royal, golden brooch could ever beat a gift as precious as this.
When this is over, Adrien told himself as he parted the tent flaps and walked with proud confidence into the blinding daylight, I'm going to ask that girl to marry me. And this time, I'll never leave her side again.
Meanwhile, Lady Sabrina was meandering innocently through the camp until something peculiar caught her eye.
Two archers were exiting the same tent. The first was a pirate-of-a-man with thick, gloved hands and skinny legs. The second was Sir Adrien.
The sight of the princess's unrequited crush piqued Sabrina's interest, and the maidservant cast a good long look at the other archer walking away.
He looked like a simple, haggard peasant. But... What was he doing in Adrien's tent? And why was he in such a hurry to get away right after the trumpet blare?
The hat. The eyepatch. The loose clothing.
"Hmm... I wonder," Sabrina murmured, and an idea sprouted in her head.
Instead of following the stranger, she headed off in the direction of the archery field.
With any luck, after a little observation, the princess's spy would get the answer she hoped for.
DaaDaaDaaDAAAAAA! DaaDaaDaaDaa! DaaDaaDaaDaa! DaaDaaDaaDAAAAAAAAAA!
The trumpeters from atop the twin watchtowers blew the triumphant melody for all in Stonefield to hear.
The crowd hushed themselves to silence as the assembly of archers marched single-file onto the open stretch of grass where the tournament would take place.
There were about ten in total – young men and old men from in and around Nottingham, each with a quiver on his back and a bow slung over his shoulder.
As the last entry, Marinette lingered at the back of the line, keeping her posture heavy to complement her disguise.
Right in front of her was Sheriff Roger, proud and oblivious as ever.
A few spots ahead was Sir Adrien, who walked at a steady pace and smiled kindly at a group of waving children in the crowd.
Marinette recognized one of the kids as teal-hooded Alix and her troupe of friends. Nadja and Manon also stood beside Alix, the former holding her youngest daughter up in her arms while she squirmed excitedly.
The line passed by the row of boxes first, where Princess Chloe and the nobility were watching.
Her Highness skimmed over each archer with a contemplative gaze, her regal smile welcoming but foreboding.
On her right was Alya. She fanned herself aggressively, though it wasn't exactly the summer sun that was making her sweat. She purposefully tried not to let her amber eyes stay on Marinette for too long, and instead pretended to swoon over the younger men as they strode by.
On the princess's far left sat Master Nino, whom Chloe reluctantly allowed in the royal box at Sir Adrien's request. There was a another seat reserved for the lordling as well, which Nino wisely put between him and Her Haughtiness.
Each archer bowed before Princess Chloe and stated his name, allowing a bony herald to scribble it onto a scroll.
Marinette felt a hot pin in her gut when she saw the gagging look Chloe gave Adrien as he gave his introduction expressionlessly. But when the princess's eyes cut to the red rose on Adrien's quiver strap, and her sappy smile became cold and bitter like cracked ice, Marinette couldn't help but grin.
Soon after, when it was the outlaw's turn, she bent low – making sure her hat and wig didn't slip off – and said in her Irish accent, "Squire Locksley of Devonshire!"
The herald's pen flew across the parchment, and Chloe waved her hand in an idle acknowledgment.
Marinette blew out a tiny sigh of relief as she rejoined her fellow archers at the starting line.
She quickly eyeballed the targets and counted the numbers in her head: ten archers, each with a target set up ten paces away.
They would all have three chances to hit the target and score points on the coloured rings. The best seven shooters moved on to the next round: shooting at fifteen paces. The best five would fire at twenty, and finally, two contestants would be chosen for the final and hardest challenge: thirty paces.
Marinette's veins thrummed with adrenaline. This is going to be fun, she thought, stealing a glance at Adrien.
He caught her stare briefly and winked. May the best man win, the gesture said.
She glared at him teasingly. We'll see.
The Captain of the Guard, a crocodile-of-a-man dressed in red with a sharp jaw and gangly limbs, paraded up to the royal box. He was carrying a purple-velvet pillow, upon which sat the prize of today's contest: the Golden Arrow in all it's elegant, shimmering, twenty-four-carat glory.
"Your Highness," the Captain said with a bow, presenting the pillow to Princess Chloe. "With your royal permission, we are ready to begin."
Chloe smiled and sat back in her seat, waving her bejewelled hand. "Proceed, Captain," she stated.
The crocodile-man spun to face the crowd, his red cape whipping around him. Then, he announced in a deep, croaky voice, "The Tournament of the Golden Arrow will now begin!"
The trumpeters played the archer's fanfare once again, and the audience cheered, waving their flags and shouting the names of their favourite contenders.
Once the clamour died down, the two royal drummers played a loud, suspenseful roll.
It was time to ready the arrows.
All ten archers nocked their arrows in perfect unison, aimed at their corresponding targets, and – when the drums stopped – fired.
Thunk-Thunk-Thunk, Thunk-Thunk!
Ten arrows struck the circular mats. Most were in the outer white or yellow rings, a few were embedded in the inner blue and red rings, and only one struck the central black dot: Marinette's arrow.
Beside her, Sheriff Roger bristled. "You just got lucky," he told her. "Everyone's always lucky on their first shot."
Marinette just grinned, noticing how the Sheriff's arrow had just barely made the red ring.
Meanwhile, Princess Chloe surveyed the shots with a hum, and she tapped her ringed fingers on her armrest. "A perfect bullseye," she mused when she spotted Squire Locksley's arrow, and her mouth curled. "Hmm... well, well."
Alya smiled behind her fan. "That's what you call throwing it back and letting it go, PC," she told the princess. Then, she cast a wary look over at her friend on the field.
The next few minutes were filled with the twangs of bows and the delightful cheers and whistles of the townsfolk. The archers took their turns to fire their next two shots, and everyone held their breath every time one of them drew back an arrow.
When it was Adrien's turn to take his second shot, he lifted his arrow up a smidge against the faint breeze... and fired.
TWACK! Bullseye.
The crowd applauded. Alix whooped while Manon squealed from her mother's arms. Kim, Max, Rose, and Juleka each waved a flag for their noble friend.
The Sheriff was next. He got a bullseye as well.
This time, the crowd booed for their "honourable" tax-collector. Roger reeled with a surprised frown.
Marinette barely finished aiming before she fired her arrow in half-a-second.
It hit the black dot proudly, and the people cheered once again. Even Adrien and a few other archers clapped for Marinette in commemoration for her shot.
Back in the royal box, Princess Chloe grinned. "A double header," she said, her blue eyes sparkling in thought. "Intriguing."
"Hey, don't give the guy too much credit, PC," Alya said. "There's still a lot of good shots out there."
Chloe smiled sweetly at her. "Of course, Duchess." She sighed and murmured with honeyed darkness, "I have no doubt the most cunning archer in Nottingham will reveal himself here today."
Or herself, the princess thought with grim satisfaction. Oh, yes. The final piece is almost in place.
Before long, the first round was over.
Seven archers – including Sir Adrien, Sheriff Roger, and "Squire Locksley" – waited for the groundskeepers to set up new targets at fifteen paces.
Once again, Stonefield sounded with the melodic twangs of bows and the rhythmic percussion of arrows.
As the Captain of the Guard called out the tallies, the crowd danced and pounded their fists when "Squire Locksley" and Sir Adrien advanced to the third round, along with Max's father Gustave, a young hedge knight named Sir Tristan of York... and the Sheriff of Nottingham (who was booed once again).
Meanwhile, Lady Sabrina crept along the bushes bordering the field, keeping her teal eyes locked on "Squire Locksley" every time he took a shot.
Even the way he moved while shooting made Sabrina suspicious: such finesse and ease and carelessness. It was far too... graceful. And it carried a familiar, mischievous aura that made Sabrina's bones rattle, just like they had on the day Ladybug and Rena Rouge robbed Princess Chloe.
Sabrina decided to move in behind the archers, her dress and hair covered in leaves and twigs.
Meanwhile, "Squire Locksley" was getting all excited and bouncing in his spot while Sheriff Roger tried to concentrate.
"I'm goo-ing win the Golden Arroh!" the moustached Irishman rasped. "An' then, I'm gonna present meself to the people of Notting'em, an' then I'm gonna...!"
Roger lowered his bow and whirled on his opponent. "Listen, Chatterhat," he groaned darkly. "If you shoot half as good as you blabbermouth, you're better than Ladybug."
Locksley gasped. "Ladybug, he says! Wow-wee!" He clapped the Sheriff on the back and then twirled his bow. "I'm tip-top, all right, but I'm not as good as that lassy is."
And, without even looking at his target, the Squire of Devonshire took his next shot.
Bullseye again.
The Sheriff's mouth dropped with shock, and the people stomped their proud approval.
Not too far away, Alya leaned over to Princess Chloe and said, "Perhaps I was mistaken. The man's certainly got class, doesn't he, PC?"
A few silent seconds passed before Chloe realized someone was talking to her. She straightened up hastily and cleared her throat. "Oh, yes, Aly. Most definitely. Bravo! Bravo!" She clapped in a delicate manner.
Alya shivered at the sharp focus in the princess's eyes, like a hawk swooping in to catch a fish. She hoped it was nothing, but she told herself to remain vigilant in case Queen Bee actually did suspect that the Squire of Devonshire was really Ladybug in disguise.
Back on the field, Sir Adrien moseyed up to Roger and pretended to examine his arrow as he addressed the rotund redhead. "Speaking of Ladybug, Sheriff, aren't you the one who's been chasing her down these past few years?"
Roger's smugness returned. "Oh, absolutely, Your Lordship." He pounded his chest with his fist. "Rest assured, I'll be the one to bring that traitorous pastry-wench to the king's justice soon enough."
Adrien tried not to snort at that, but the Sheriff's words made his blood boil. The king's justice; as if King Felix was the one who called for Ladybug's head.
The young lordling reeled in his anger and cast Roger a feline grin. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, Sheriff. But, um... I would have thought you'd have caught the girl by now, seeing as she's only one outlaw, and you have a whole squadron."
Roger blinked, and then frowned with the redness of humiliation and wounded pride. "She's scared of me, that's what she is," he retorted. "You noticed she didn't show up here today? I wish she had! I could spy that pretty little insect through any of her phoney disguises."
Adrien didn't know whether he should laugh at Roger or pity him. And Chloe made him the Sheriff? The lordling shook his head with distaste, clicking his tongue in silence.
Across from Roger, Squire Locksley prepared his last arrow for the final shot at twenty paces.
Right behind him, Lady Sabrina inched out of the bushes and peered up at the archer, covering her head with a leafy branch to make herself more treelike.
Locksley's arrow zipped away, and everyone followed it to see it hit the target dead-on once more.
But while everyone was watching the squire's arrow, Sabrina was staring at the squire's face.
The force of the arrow had caused the corner of Locksley's moustache to peel off, revealing smooth, unblemished skin underneath. For a brief moment, Locksley's lips appeared in their full, bow-like pinkness.
Locksley noticed immediately and patted the moustache – obviously fake – back down onto his upper lip, his blue eyes darting back and forth nervously.
Sabrina gasped. She knew those eyes, and she knew that mouth. "It's her!" she whispered to herself with delight. "It's Ladybug!"
She squirmed out of the bushes undetected and retreated over to the tent area. Thankfully, everyone was too obsessed with the tournament to notice the dishevelled maid sneaking away.
Sabrina clenching her fists to her chest, giggling between her teeth wickedly. "Wait until I tell Her Majesty," she jeered. "She'll give me a promotion for sure!"
"I wouldn't bet on it," came a voice from behind her.
Sabrina stiffened.
But before she could turn around to confront who was talking to her, a hand clapped over her mouth and someone lifted her off her feet.
Sabrina thrashed and screamed and kicked, but then another pair of hands secured her feet.
Then, darkness closed around her, and Sabrina suddenly realized that she was being stuffed into an empty ale barrel.
The next thing the handmaiden knew, she was staring up at her assailant – or rather, two assailants – as she lay crumpled up inside the barrel: a half-bald old man and a tomato-haired jester.
"Hey!" she shouted. She tried shift around and untangle her limbs. But as dainty as she was, this was a very small space. And it reeked of fermented ale.
"Terribly sorry about this, Miss," the old geezer said with pity.
"But it's for your own good," his younger companion said with a smirk.
Sabrina glared at them. "Don't you da–!"
Too late. The barrel lid came down and twisted into place.
There were a couple of holes in the barrel, so Sabrina was in no danger of suffocating. But it was still smelly! And she couldn't get out!
Sabrina shook her makeshift prison, making it rattle in its spot. "Let me out this instant!" she hollered angrily. "I don't like ale!"
But she knew from the silence that her two captors were long gone. So Sabrina held her breath and kept on trying to shake free.
The people waited in silence as the Captain of the Guard did the final tally.
Then, he walked up and lifted his arms to the crowd. "Attention, everyone!" he called out. "We have our final two contestants!"
The remaining archers stood in a single line, frozen with anticipation.
"Our first finalist: the honourable Sheriff Roger of Nottingham!"
Roger leapt forward happily and took a deep, satisfied bow. But the people booed him yet again, their bitterness clear in their booming voices. The Sheriff frowned with annoyance.
"Our second finalist: the spindle-legged Squire Locksley of Devonshire!"
A roar of approval rocked the field, and Marinette couldn't help but blush as she waved to the people. Her people, who would surely be leaping out of their seats if they knew who they were really cheering for.
She caught Adrien's eye and waved to him, and he waved back as a gesture of good luck, his emerald eyes gleaming with pride.
"There will now be a five-minute recess," the Captain announced. "Finalists, prepare yourselves! The Golden Arrow is within your range!"
The other archers – save for Roger – shook hands with Marinette before heading off to join their friends and families in the crowd. Then, the two finalists walked off to separate spots to refresh and check their bows for any flaws.
As Adrien walked away, he heard a sing-song voice trying to get his attention:
"Yoo-hoo! Oh, Adrikins!"
Adrien winced. Oh, great. But as the son of Lord Gabriel of Agreste, he must suffer the presence of his unbearable cousin.
He walked without haste to the royal box, where Princess Chloe was waving him over towards an empty seat on her right side. Thankfully, Nino was there in the second seat, and he produced Adrien a prominent thumbs-up.
The left side was currently occupied by a black-haired noblewoman with brownish skin and amber eyes. She seemed to be smiling at Adrien as though they were old friends, even though he was quite sure they had never met.
"Come, come, darling – take a rest," Chloe urged, batting her long eyelashes at Adrien. "You've had such a gruelling trial, and you deserve a front-row seat befitting my cousin."
Adrien tried to smile, but found it excessively hard. He gently took her hand and bowed. "Thanks Chloe. I appreciate that." He quickly moved past his cousin and sat down beside Nino, doing his best to avoid Chloe's lingering gaze.
The dark-skinned attendant leaned closer. "Did you find her?" he mouthed into his liege's ear.
Adrien responded by looking over at "Squire Locksley", his eyebrows lifting.
Nino followed his best friend's gaze, and his mouth twisted up all goofy-like. "Man... she is good!" he breathed.
Adrien couldn't agree more. Even in that ridiculous oyster of an outfit, Adrien could still see the beautiful pearl underneath. It made him think back to the night he first met his beloved; the night he had taught her how to shoot:
You'll be the greatest archer in all of Nottingham. No, wait... all of England!
Thank you... but even I could never be that good.
You might surprise yourself.
The lordling just never imagined that she would end up surprising him.
A hand creeping along his shoulder jolted Adrien back to reality, and he flinched away from Chloe.
"What's this here?" The princess lowered her hand and tapped the red rose and its fanning petals on Adrien's chest. "Oh, isn't that just lovely! But, pray tell, what happened to the exquisite brooch I gave you?" Chloe pouted like a puppy dog. "You didn't want to wear it for me?"
Adrien felt something regurgitating up his throat, but he forced it back down.
If Chloe found out he was wearing another girl's favour, she might put two and two together and guess who it belonged to.
So Adrien quickly came up with a believable lie. "I was going to, but I didn't want to ruin or break it," he told Chloe. "So I..." He struggled not to groan. "I thought this rose would be a worthy substitute... in honour of your beauty."
Nino let out a gargling snort, but he wiped the amusement off his face before Chloe noticed.
The princess pursed her lips in an odd fashion. Then, she shrugged and waved an idle hand. "Well, I suppose it'll do. Red is a royal colour, although white is much more proper."
Adrien sighed softly with relief.
Chloe finally drew away and sat back in her throne. "What do you make of this squire fellow?" She gestured to the disguised Marinette, her eyebrows shifting. "You seem to be rooting for him over the Sheriff. Are the two of you close? Old friends, perhaps?"
This time, Adrien chose to let a smidgeon of truth appear on his face. "We met a couple times before," he replied, looking back at Marinette. "But I wouldn't exactly call us "friends". I just find his style and technique... amusing."
Chloe giggled, her tone surprisingly light and airy. "Coincidentally, cousin dearest, he amuses me too." She cast a cool, oily smile at "Squire Locksley", and her voice deepened. "I do believe we already have our true champion."
Adrien glanced at her, his eyebrows drawn together. The way Chloe said that... It poked at the lordling's conscience something fierce. He'd have to keep a close eye on his "cousin dearest" once the tournament was over.
As though on cue, the Captain of the Guard suddenly declared, "For the final challenge, move the target back thirty paces!"
Back on the field, once he was sure no one was looking, Roger snapped to one of his personal guards, Nutsy: a puny, doe-eyed, big-nosed man wearing a purple hood over his mailed shirt.
"You heard him, Nutsy," the Sheriff growled, pointing at the target. "Get goin', you bird-brain!"
Nutsy gave his boss a fidgety salute before sprinting around the basket target and slipping inside. His eyes poked out through a slot at the top.
Roger grinned and covered his mouth as he whispered, "And remember what you're supposed to do."
"Yessir, Sheriff, sir!" Nutsy blubbered before remaining silent.
Roger retreated away just as the other groundskeepers came over, lifted the target, and carried it to the thirty-pace marker on the range.
Everyone retook their seats and spots along the field. Then, Marinette and Roger strode up to the starting line.
The drum roll began, and the Sheriff walked up first.
The townsfolk and nobles didn't utter a whisper.
Roger nocked his arrow and squeezed one eye shut. After a second, he fired.
The black-feathered arrow whizzed through the air like a breath of wind. And then...
... the target jumped up about a foot in the air, allowing the arrow to strike it right in the centre!
Shock and frustration flashed across Marinette's face, as well as those of Adrien and the rest of the crowd.
There was a series of booing. Many people were calling out foul play and sabotage. Near the front, Alix yelled "Cheater!", and Friar Fu was shaking his head with disapproval beside a flustered Nathaniel a'Dale.
Roger chuckled and slung his bow over his shoulder as he turned to Marinette with a smarmy grin. "Well, that shot wins me the Golden Arrow, the princess's favour, and the whole caboodle."
Marinette just scratched her fake moustache and stepped around the Sheriff without a word or a glance at him. Once she was at the line, she readied her orange-fletched arrow and took aim.
Unbeknownst to her, a sly Roger inched the tip of his bow underneath the bottom of Marinette's... and gave it a little bump just as she was about to shoot.
Marinette reeled as her arrow soared high up into the air, way off target.
There was a collective, horrified gasp.
But Ladybug was not one to accept defeat. In a flash, she drew another arrow, aimed it up at the stray with a single narrowed eye, and fired.
The second arrow knocked against the fletching of the first, sending it twirling over until it was pointed back down at the target again.
No one moved or breathed or made a sound. Eyes bulged. Hands clasped together. Teeth chattered.
Adrien and Nino sat on the edge of their seats, the former's lip trembling in silent prayer. Alya (er, I mean... the "Duchess of Chutney") was slowly grinning from ear-to-ear. Princess Chloe's eyes flew open with surprise.
The arrow fell, gaining speed with the help of gravity.
There was a hard THUNK! followed by a sharp CRACK!
Sheriff Roger let out a hitched gasp and collapsed to his knees.
Marinette smirked.
For her arrow had not only struck the black dot on the target – it had also cut through Roger's arrow like a hatchet to a log, splitting it right down the middle!
Only when the broken pieces fell to the ground did the celebratory cheer thunder across all of Stonefield: "YAAAAAAAAAYY!!!!"
Friar Fu lifted his hands to the heavens. "Huzzah!" he called.
Nathaniel gave a loud whistle.
Alix and her friends jumped into each other's arms and danced around in a giddy circle. Nadja grinned big while Manon let out a high-pitched, "Hooray!"
Alya clenched her fist in triumph, grinning wide, until she remembered where she was and quickly returned to her "Duchess of Chutney" facade, clapping gently.
But the best reaction of all was Adrien's. The moment Marinette's arrow struck true, the lordling launched out of his seat with his fists to the sky. "Yes! Yes!" he cried with a big smile. He then pulled an ecstatic Nino into a back-clapping hug.
Marinette sighed breathlessly, taking good care of her moustache as she wiped the sweat off her face. She had won many small contests in her youth, thanks to Adrien's tutelage, but that shot was undoubtably her finest moment.
I did it, Papa, Marinette said to the watchful clouds above. I actually did it!
She then caught Adrien's joyous smile bearing on her, and she beamed at him.
If the disguised outlaw had been paying more attention, she would have noticed that Princess Chloe wasn't cheering, or clapping.
The royal blonde didn't so much as twitch out of her seat. She just watched an oblivious Marinette with a malicious grin.
Then, the princess turned her head towards her Captain of the Guard, and gave a single hard nod.
The crocodile-man bowed his own head with a crooked smirk, and then whispered into the ear of a nearby soldier.
The game was over, but the celebration was only just beginning.