“Of course, it’s all yours.” Hadrian smiled, his golden eyes flashing between my hands and my face.
“Thank you so much, it’s incredible.” I was surprised at how light it was. I ran my calloused hands across the frame, taking in the beauty of its curves and design.
“She is beautiful, isn’t she? You are going to need a couple of these too…” Hadrian passed over the arrows. I held the bow between my legs and took them, careful not to touch their heads.
Compared to the bow, the arrows were mundane, simple. They were made from plain wood and iron, not much different from those I was used to. The only difference was the collection of coloured feathers that sprung from the end, a combination of rich blues and mossy greens.
I was desperate to use it. In my own bag, I’d snuck an apple from the kitchens. The idea hit me full force.
“Here, throw this in that direction,” I said as I passed the apple and pointed to the open expanse of the sky above. It was the best place for target practice and away from any windows of the palace. At worst, the arrow would land in the sea, but I trusted my skill better than to miss.
I lifted the bow, feeling its balance in my hands. Satisfied with its weight and proportions, I lifted an arrow and notched it in the string.
It was simple, using a bow, as easy as breathing.
Focus on the target, breath in, out, let go.
My hands buzzed with excitement and I gripped tighter, holding it firm before me. I pulled the bowstring back to my ear, relaxing to the chime that sounded as I did so.
My next move was dangerous. I should have resisted, but it was second nature when I used a bow to have my magick aid me. I allowed a sliver to fill my mind, enough that I could listen carefully to the calls of the air around me. I waited and closed my eyes to focus on my magick.
“Now!” I shouted, throwing my eyes open.
Red blurred in the corner of my vision from the apple Hadrian had thrown. My breathing slowed until the moment I saw it flying through the sky before me.
I released.
The thwack of the arrow was a song to my ears. It sliced through the air, beautiful and graceful. I watched it spin, the air holding it within its grasp, urging it to speed towards the moving target. It gained on the apple that now curved from its apex into its descent, just where I expected it to.
You’re mine.
Just as the arrow was about reach the apple, the air screamed in warning. I didn’t have time to pull the air back with my magick as the arrow shot into the black mass that flew in front of its path.
Hadrian’s muffled gasp was smothered by the shrieks of the wind. We both watched the birds’ body fall to the ground.
I pulled back at my magick, shoving it into the cage and severing the connection to the air.
It was a raven.
Then it wasn’t.
Black smoke spread wide, bleeding into the blue sky.
It all happened so fast. I screamed as the body of the shifter smashed into the ground.
I ran.
I threw the bow to the ground somewhere between where I previously stood and where I now knelt on the ground looking over Petrer’s bloodied torso. The grass beneath him was already stained red from the blood that oozed from his chest. His body was colourless, lifeless. I checked for a pulse, my blood covered fingers pressing against Petrer’s neck.
Time slowed as I waited for a sign, but it was there, a weak flutter.
Hadrian was shouting from above me, yet I couldn’t make out what he was saying. My eyes were trained to the arrow that protruded from Petrer’s shoulder, the wood buried deep into his skin.
Hadrian pushed me to the side and kneeled before Petrer.
Petrer.
His body looked strange. Arms and legs lay in unnatural angles. Like a broken wooden puppet.
“I didn’t see him, I didn’t see him,” I repeated, choking on tears.
I followed the river of blood that ran from him and pooled into a puddle at my side. I stared at it, stunned into stillness.
There was a blur of bodies around us, but I didn’t look at them to see who they were. One of them swept Petrer into her arms, and began running towards the doors of the palace, leaving me. Hadrian followed her, shouting commands, but not once turning back for me. I was left alone, frozen to the spot, unable to lift my eyes from the blood.
I slapped my wet hand against my forehead. Over and over, I pounded it until the pain clashed with my inner panic. I cried and screamed. I could’ve stopped the arrow. I knew I could. It was my fault.
Petrer’s animalistic scream repeated over in my mind, the loud crunch of his body hitting the ground and the blood. So much blood.
A hand pressed down on my shoulder, startling me. I looked away from my hands, squinting my eyes from the suns glare bouncing off the guard’s armour.
Fadine’s stern face looked at me through the cuts in her helmet. “Hadrian would have come back to get you, but he has his hands full, so he sent me instead.”
I couldn’t look at her.
“Is he… dead?”
She didn’t answer.
WHEN WE ENTERED the room, it was Hadrian who I first noticed. He was standing in the far corner, his face a mask of concern as he looked over the older elfin woman and Petrer. I followed his gaze to her and watched as she shuffled around the cot where Petrer lay. Her long, grey hair was a nest of knots and ribbons. She was hunched over Petrer, whispering to herself in a song-like tune, as she burned incense around his head.
I knew she wasn’t Niraen. Her skin glowed from the golden blood that ran beneath her thin skin. Her ears were sharper and stood out more from her head than mine or Hadrian’s.
She was Alorian, a high elf.
The arrow had been removed from Petrer’s shoulder before I’d arrived. Instead, white cloth wrapped around him, a bloom of red spreading over where the arrow had hit. I sagged in relief, a momentary release of guilt.
Fadine closed the door behind me just as the Alorian elf’s song built up. It got louder, more child-like until it stopped, blue light spilled from her fingers and snaked into Petrer’s limp body.
Everything in the cramped room glowed from her light. Hadrian’s face was awash with it. Even Petrer seemed to glow from the inside out, burning like a blue flame.
The healer was not like the one back home who was known for her concoctions of herbs. No, she was different.
I watched from the doorway, whilst the healer ran her hands across Petrer’s skin and spread her pulsing light across him. It went on for a while, not a word being said. The only sound came from my heavy breathing and the shuffle of the old elf’s feet. Right before my eyes Petrer’s body seemed to fill with the colour of life and his chest began to rise and fall.
She stopped and turned for Hadrian, the blue light still lingering within Petrer’s chest.
“He needs to rest. His body will heal, but his mind needs time.” The old elf said, “I ask that you call for me once he wakes so I can assess him and proceed with the healing.”
“Thank you, Healer Browlin.” Hadrian bowed.