A week and a half later…
I watched my arrow fly over the huge target and get stuck in the trees beside the Palace.
I bit my lip and slowly turned my eyes to my Dad to see his eyes were pointed in the direction of where my arrow landed and his shoulders were slumped.
I’d disappointed him.
Again.
Crap.
“I seem to…” I hesitated when his gaze came to me and it did it before he could fully hide the disappointment and my heart wrenched, “pull up right before I let go.” I finished.
Yeah, pull up, and to the side, and one time down so the arrow embedded in the turf five feet in front of the target.
“Indeed, daughter,” he muttered, sighed and stated, “Why don’t we finish for today?”
He jerked his chin at a boy standing close who came forward hurriedly to take my bow and I pulled the quiver that was strapped across my chest over my head and handed it to him with a smile.
Then I looked at the target that had three of my arrows in it, none of them in any of the lines and another boy was rushing around gathering arrows but he was rushing around behind the target.
I sucked at archery. Totally. Playing it on Wii did not set you up for the real thing.
And Sjofn obviously didn’t and my Dad was obviously proud of her skill.
“I seem to have lost my touch,” I muttered to Dad.
He put a hand to my elbow and started to lead me through the snow to the side door of the Palace.
“Yes, this is what it seems,” he muttered back.
“How about we come back out tomorrow?” I asked, forcing brightness in my tone and I watched him turn his head to me.
And that was when I saw what I saw more than once when I was with him – a weird kind of sorrow that hurt to see. I didn’t get it but it was definitely there. Maybe it was a father’s natural reaction as he was coming to terms with his daughter getting married and moving on to another man in her life. But it didn’t seem like that. And it got stronger every time we came out and tried this archery business and we’d been out four days in a row.
I’d been super excited when he’d approached me and asked if I’d like to go out and shoot arrows. First, I wanted to shoot arrows, I’d never done that before except on a video game (which obviously didn’t count). Second, I wanted to spend time with my Dad and the last week, Dad had seemed hesitant and distant with me so I jumped at the chance.
Contradictorily, Mom had warmed towards me.
Well, as warm as my Mom of this world could be which wasn’t super warm.
My Mom was giggly and cuddly, always teasing and tickling and snuggling, both Dad and me, and she had given these traits to me.
Queen Aurora was nothing like that.
Still, she no longer seemed infuriated or impatient with me and often sought my company, though we spent our time together while she embroidered which I found mind-numblingly boring (embroidery, that was).
Mom, however, she was not boring. Although reserved and not very talkative, she had a skill with drawing people out and not often, but in moments that surprised you which made it even better, she displayed a very dry wit.
And she had taken me into Fyngaard several times and that was when we had (borderline) fun together. Clearly, she liked shopping. Definitely, I liked it. And one could say the liquid chocolate at Esmeralda’s was brilliant (it wasn’t hot cocoa, like I expected it would be, it was actual liquid chocolate, a thick, rich, dark chocolate you could spoon up or dunk in the almond biscuits and glazed, fried, cake-like fingers they served with it and it was freaking divine). And Fyngaard was most assuredly a cosmopolitan city with high fashion which meant the dressmakers and the ensembles of passersby were out of sight, sophisticated cafes and elegant restaurants that served fabulous food.
I loved the city and I liked my Mom. It was weird she was so different and sometimes it freaked me out but, even so, it was wonderful to spend time with her, hear her voice, sometimes see her small smile or her eyes light and rarely, but they were treasured, feel her touch on my arm or hand.
Dad was easier to like, he was much like my father in ways that made my heart swell and clutch at the same time. He was gregarious and had an open, broad sense of humor. I heard his laughter quite often in the Palace and often saw him smiling at people.
Just not with me.
Another boy rushed to open the door for us (I had learned royalty didn’t do things like open doors or, well, pretty much anything but walk to get places, eat food people served and breathe on their own) and Dad replied distractedly as we entered the Palace, “Yes, Sjofn, I’ll look forward to that. Tomorrow, same time.”
Then he started to turn down a hall and I called, “Da… I mean, Father.”
Shit! My girls kept telling me I didn’t call them Mom and Dad but Father and Mother.
He turned and looked at me, visibly forcing a smile.
My heart clutched again when I saw it.
“I’ll find my way again,” I promised softly yet fervently. “So much has happened and I just, um… lost my focus. With practice, I’ll find it again even if I have to come out every day, I’ll do it and, I promise, I’ll find it.”
He studied me with something working in his eyes then he walked the two steps back to me, lifted a hand and touched the side of my hair while his gaze never left mine.
Then he said softly back, “Thank you, Sjofn, but maybe now that you’re married you have another focus. Perhaps we can spend time finding something new we enjoy sharing together. What do you think of that?”
My heart lightened and I grinned at him. Then I admitted, “Well, I kind of actually like archery.” His eyes brightened at this news, I took heart and I went on, “I just for some reason have become not very good at it. I’m totally into keeping it up and getting better again if you’re happy to help me.”
His eyes stayed bright when he replied quietly, “I’m more than happy to help you, daughter.”
My grin became a smile. And Father smiled back and finally it wasn’t fake.
“Until tomorrow,” he muttered.
“Cool,” I muttered back.
His head jerked a little at my word (and I reminded myself that I really had to speak like they did in this world) but he kept looking at me smiling. Then he bent and touched his lips to my cheek, turned and walked away.
I stood in the hallway watching him go and grinning to myself.
Well, that went well. Finally. Thank God.
Then I turned and started to make my way to my rooms because I knew, soon, the dressmakers would be there to do a fitting for my gown for the Bitter Gales.
I had learned from my girls that the Gales was a big, resplendent ball which was preceded by a huge hunt – this one of two hunts and balls the King and Queen of Lunwyn threw every year. The Bitter Gales was held on the shortest, coldest day of the year, the hunt in the forest around Fyngaard and the ball in the Winter Palace and the Solar Gales was held on the longest, warmest day of the year thrown at the king and queen’s castle, Rimee Keep in a city called Snowdon.
One could say I was looking forward to the Bitter Gales like I would look forward to having bamboo shoots shoved under my nails, that was to stress attending it, not dressing for it since my gown was kickass.
This was because I would be attending with my husband.
In the last week and a half I had barely seen Frey and I had not spoken to him once and, obviously, he had not spoken to me. I’d seen him three times, all from a distance, all only in passing and only once did his head turn to me and when his eyes caught mine, he gave me a minor chin lift then he looked instantly away.
That hurt. A lot. Too much. More than it should.
But it did.
And the fact he kept away not only from my person but my bed also hurt.
A lot. Too much.
More than it should.
