Page 32 of Secrets of Graves and Gold

She’s standing with Casimir and Rheave, the latter of whom is examining a quiver of arrows he must have found in the Haven’s many storage rooms. My chest tightens a little at the thought of him aiming those projectiles at targets around him.

How much can we really trust the daimon in our midst? How long will the dogged devotion he’s shown to Ivy even last?

There are no records at all about spirit creatures inhabiting human forms.

As Stavros and I both amble over to join them, the daimon slides one of the arrows out of the quiver and then picks up the bow he rested against the outer face of the building. “I’ve seen these used before. You pull it back with the string, and it flies?”

Ivy lets out a wry chuckle. “I’m not the right person to turn to for archery advice.”

Casimir holds out his hand. “I won’t say my aim is fantastic, but I can show you the gist.”

When Rheave hands the weapon over, the courtesan notches the arrow, looks around, and launches it at one of the broader trees along the edge of the small clearing. The head thumps into the bark a little right of center.

“Better than I could manage,” Ivy mutters without any rancor.

Rheave’s bright eyes have widened. He takes the bow back and grabs another arrow. “I like this. Better than swinging around a blade in the hand.”

He positions the arrow exactly as Casimir did—a quicker study than I’ve proven to be with weaponry. With a twang of the string, he sends it soaring between the trees to smack into a more distant branch.

Ivy arches an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure this is your first time?”

“It makes sense,” Rheave says with obvious excitement, snatching up another arrow. “The arc and the air and the tension in the string…”

He shoots a glance at Ivy, with a flare of fierceness in his gaze that somehow sparks both approval and uneasiness in my chest. “I can protect you from up close and from far away.”

“I’ll be very safe from any murderous trees that descend on us,” Ivy says, but she pats the daimon’s arm at the same time. “I’m glad you’ve found a form of combat you like, if only so you and Stavros don’t need to squabble so much.”

Stavros glowers at her with obvious affection before turning to Rheave. “Unless you want to climb those trees to get the arrows back, I’d suggest you stick to targets that aren’t quite so distant. I don’t imagine there’s a huge supply of weaponry here.”

Rheave hums thoughtfully. “How would a soldier practice?”

Naturally, Stavros knows all about that. He motions Rheave over and sets about constructing a couple of suitable archery targets at the edge of the woods.

I sit down on a stump that’s been carved into a stool, finding a strange enjoyment in the graze of the cool air over my bare face. It’s been years since I stepped outside without my mask.

My pulse still lurches from time to time when I remember that my scars are exposed, but none of my current companions react to them. There’s nothing to really stir my insecurities.

It’s unexpectedly freeing not having that small but constant weight against my skin.

Rheave works through the quiver of arrows with swift efficiency, landing all of them in the inner three circles of the makeshift bullseye Stavros created. I can’t deny that the daimon has some strengths—and that his eagerness is admirable.

While Stavros offers a few tips, Casimir disappears into the building. The courtesan returns holding a metal flute that flashes as it catches in the sunlight.

He props himself against the wall and starts to play. The lilting tune winds through the air, drawing Stavros’s and Rheave’s attention.

The daimon bobs with the melody as he yanks the arrows from the target. “Music is better than shooting,” he declares.

A laugh escapes Stavros that he then looks startled by, but he allows Rheave a small smile. “I suppose that depends on whether you’re under attack.”

He pauses, his gaze settling on Ivy with a brief tick of his head. The intensity in his expression has me bracing myself, but there’s no hostility behind it now.

He steps toward her, holding out his hand. “Seeing as we’re not under attack at the moment… I missed the chance to dance with you at the one college ball you were able to attend. I wouldn’t mind remedying that oversight.”

Ivy gives a laugh of her own, a blush touching her pale cheeks as she takes his hand. “I could probably use a little more practice at dancing like a lady, in case I need to play one again.”

Stavros offers her a sly grin. “Who says I want you to dance like a lady?”

Ivy casts her gaze toward me for a moment, catching my eyes with a quick smile that I can read easily enough. She’s telling me that I’m included too. I’d imagine I could have the next dance if I ask for it.

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