Jason took a step back. “Nothing.”
His dad worked his way toward him. “No. I think you should tell me.” He suddenly slapped the back of Jason’s head, jarring it forward. “Spit it out, boy.”
“Nothing.”
The knot on the end of the strap zipped out and smacked Jason in the ribs. He grunted and jumped back. “Stop, Dad.”
“Tell me,” his father insisted and sent the hard leather knot flying. It hit the inside of Jason’s left thigh.
Jason grabbed the spot and hobbled out of the way. “Dad, stop!”
“Not until you tell me.” The knot whipped out again, slamming into Jason’s back. He grunted.
Kera huddled deeper into the wool, horrified by the sight of Jason’s dad hitting him again and again, taunting him. “Wanna be a big man? You never will. Not until you can stand up to me. But you won’t, will you? You’re too scared.”
“I’m not scared of you,” Jason gritted out even though he threw his arm over his head and flinched every time his dad got too close.
His dad grabbed Jason and twisted him into a headlock. He squeezed so hard, Jason’s face turned purple. With a hard hit to the face, his dad dropped Jason to the floor and kicked dirt in his face.
Jason coughed and rubbed the dirt out of his eyes. His dad hovered over him, hands on his bent knees. “You should be scared of me. I’m bigger and better than you. Winners get the job done. If you want to be a winner, you’re going to have to fight for it. Get mean. Do what others won’t.”
He straightened and watched his son lie beaten on the floor. He spat on him and then kicked him in the ribs. “No pain, no gain, son. Get the job done. I’ll be back in an hour. That’s plenty of time. If you’re still not done, expect a real whipping.”
Jason didn’t move. Not when his dad left and not when Kera finally climbed out of the wool. She gently nudged the sheep out of her way and knelt by Jason. A circular bruise was forming along his cheek, as well as one across his collarbone. He finally turned his head and looked at her. “What are you staring at?”
She eased her arm beneath his shoulders and helped him sit with the wall supporting his back. He slowly pulled his shirt off. The damage she couldn’t see before glowed angry red and purple amid older bruises dotting his body. His breath hissed in as he turned one way, then the other, calmly counting the new bruises. Kera inched her hand into his and squeezed his fingers.
When he was done, he turned to her, his eyes void of emotion. “One of these days, I’m going to show him…and everyone like him who thinks they’re better than me.”
“You should leave. Get away from him.”
He shook his head. “Got regionals coming up. We’ve got a plan, and I’m going to win. I always do.”
Kera didn’t know what to say. Pity and fear mingled. She wanted to pull him out of there, but the edges of the dream started to cloud and before she could take her next breath, she was spinning out of Jason’s dream only to land in an open field outside of Ainsbury Cross.
The transition left her gasping. Her encounter with Jason quickly faded until this new dream she was in became her reality. It was a country fair day. People milled about listening to music, dancing, and competing in contests of skill.
She was close to home, and as she moved through the crowd, she searched for someone she knew. Suddenly a bow and a quiver of arrows were slung over her back and a familiar figure stood beside her.
Baun gave her a slight bow and smiled. “You look fetching in your shooting outfit. I can see why my son is drawn to you.”
Kera fidgeted with the buttons on her woodland-green jacket. The matching full skirt and flowing white top were simple, yet the cincher she wore was far too tight. She put her hand to her waist. “Nice as they are, these clothes aren’t mine. They’re ridiculous. I can barely breathe.”
Baun held out his hand and waited for her to take it. “Your abhorrence of fashion makes you a unique woman, yet your position in society dictates you dress the part. I suppose that is why you imagined the clothes you’re wearing and not,” he nods to a commonly dressed woman hawking flowers, “hers.”
She placed her hand in his, and he tucked it within the crook of his arm. “I suppose you’re right,” she admitted.
They moved from juggler to dancer to baker to artist. It was a pleasant day. One made for smiles and lighthearted conversation. Yet her dream of Jason sat heavy at the back of her mind. He had clearly been a prisoner to his father’s whims, just like she had once. Where she had broken free, Jason had been broken. “I believe I should not have to conform to others’ expectations. Doing so is a lie. It betrays who I really am.”
Baun purchased a sweet berry tart for her and one for himself. “Haven’t you been doing that your whole life? Your father even gave you a sliver of his magic to fool everyone else. Even I didn’t know.”
She bit into the pie and found it the perfect combination of sweet and tart. Between licking the juice from her fingertips, she said, “It was for my protection.”
“But now you are what you have always desired.” He pulled out a handkerchief and presented it to her. “A true
She slowly wiped at her lips. He knew about Jason? The thought didn’t sit well with her. Exactly what was he after?
He noticed her mood shift and steered their conversation to a less worrisome topic. “I have heard of your expertise with the bow and arrow.”
She wasn’t quite ready to let it go. “You seem to know a lot about me. How is that possible? You are a prisoner, chained like a criminal.”
He chuckled and finished his tart. “I hear much from my captors. They are inquisitive by nature, as well as murderous little cheats, but they love a good story. You have given them many over the years.”
She offered back the handkerchief, but he waved it away and she tucked it into her jacket pocket. “Unlike you, I have led a normal life, not exciting enough to draw anyone’s interest.”
“You caught Dylan’s interest, and he’s far from ordinary.”
“He loves me for who I am.” He loved her before he even knew she was real.
“Keep in mind, you were raised in an unorthodox manner.”
“Unorthodox for a
“Nothing special?” He stopped, his body suddenly rigid, his jaw tense. “The human realm is a spectacle of massive absurdity. One human trying to outdo another, not satisfied until they have embarrassed themselves not only in front of family and friends, but the whole world. Never say you are less than they. You are ten times—” He cut his tirade short.
The people around them had all stopped what they were doing to stare, blinking like owls after a mole. He drew in a deep breath and tightened his grip on her hand. “Forgive me. I hate hearing anyone with such obvious talents denigrate themselves. Please, show me your talent in the next competition.”
Immediately, a line of archers was before her, and beyond it, a dozen targets. Baun urged her forward and she took her place. They were allotted three arrows. A man shouted for the crowd to quiet and held up his hand. Kera notched her arrow along with the other archers and pulled the string back, resting it near her cheek. When the man lowered his arm, she released the string and the arrow shot forward, landing dead center. The other archers did passably well, but none as well as her. Polite applause sounded.
The man raised his hand again. She positioned the next arrow, and when his hand lowered, she let go. Once again her arrow shot forward. And when it hit, it spliced her first arrow in two.
The man raised his hand again, and when everyone was set, let it drop. This time Kera closed her eyes and let the arrow go, not worrying if the arrow would hit its mark or not. The crowd burst into thunderous applause.
Baun’s whispered words entered her ear. “Thus are what dreams are made of.”
She opened her eyes to see the third arrow had spliced the second one in two also. She lowered her bow and felt oddly empty.
