Page 13 of Heart of Snow
“Be pleasant,” Belinda panted. “Remember, more flies with honey.”
When we reached him, he bent at the waist in greeting. “You wished to speak with me?”
“Yes.” My tone was impatient. “I’ve waited nigh unto three weeks for lessons. When will we begin?”
Belinda placed a discreet hand on my back, and I added, “I’m so eager for your training.”
My delivery must have been flat, for he quirked an eyebrow but answered, “I’m ready today, if you desire it.”
I looked to Belinda, who nodded minutely.
“Very well,” I answered. “Where shall we meet?”
Friedrich’s instructions were simple enough that I knew precisely where Belinda and I were to go after changing our clothes and collecting our things from the castle. The May sun sifted through the beech leaves as we followed the spongy forest path. With each step, my hands shook a little more, and I gripped the basket handle tightly to steady them, but the pain of my scabbed burn made me release it with a hiss. I had to settle for deep, calming breaths until we reached the clearing. Friedrich was already there, resting against a tree with a paper in his hands, but on seeing us, he quickly folded it and tucked it into his jerkin. Belinda was too busy scanning the forest behind us to notice him or the questioning glance I shot her.
Upon our approach, Friedrich pushed to stand beside a quiver of arrows and a bow made with all the simplicity of a piece of wood attached to a string. Not with triggers. Not with bolts. Not a crossbow.
“What is this?” I poked the bow with the tip of my shoe.
Friedrich took it in his hands, pushing out his bottom lip as he tilted the weapon this way and that in mock examination. “It’s a serviceable bow. What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s not a crossbow.”
“You didn’t ask to be taught with a crossbow. You asked me to teach you to hunt. This is how I hunt. I trained with a curved limb bow, and I intend to train you with the same.”
“But no one takes a curved bow on a Par Force hunt,” I whined. “Guns perhaps, crossbows certainly, but this is primitive.”
Belinda cleared her throat. “Mistress, if I may.” She led me by the elbow out of earshot of Friedrich before whispering, “Do not forget your purpose. He could be instructing you indressmaking, for all we care. Cease arguing, find something pleasant to speak of, and for heaven’s sake, rid your face of that dour expression.”
I couldn’t admit as much to Belinda, but I hadn’t fully discarded the idea of gaining skill in the hunt to impress the queen. With this turn in plans, I had nothing to do but grind my teeth against the disappointment and force a cheery smile.
She patted my shoulder. “Very good. Now, if you’ll give me your basket, I’ll wander the forest a bit and see if I can’t find herbs enough for both our baskets before your lesson’s done.”
“But you said you’d be nearby to offer instruction.” I clung to her arm in panic. “What am I to do with him?”
Belinda patted my hands. “Talk. Be friendly. I shall be near enough to observe.” She pried the basket from my hand and cut her way through the grassy meadow toward the trees on the other side.
Taking a deep breath, I walked back to Friedrich, prepared to be pleasant.
“Where is she going?” His eye was on Belinda.
“Picking. We’re hoping to build up the apothecary’s store of herbs.”
He raised his eyebrow. “But what if someone came upon us? If she’s to chaperone, I think it best she stay near—”
“She’s near enough,” I interrupted. “Unless you think I have need of protection fromyou.” I slapped his arm and laughed a high, trilling laugh like I’d heard Belinda do. He raised an eyebrow and rubbed his arm before picking an arrow from the quiver.
Pointing the arrow at the thick trunk of a distant tree, he said, “That will be our target.”
I had to squint to see it clearly, it was so far.
“And this”—Friedrich held the bow out toward me—“will be your bow. Clasp it with the joint of your forefinger straight before you.”
I gripped the bow, twisting it in my left hand to find the proper position, but the edge of my scabbed burn caught on the wood and peeled back. Wincing, I forced myself not to let go.
He tapped the arrow against my knuckle. “This is where you’ll rest the arrow for aiming.”
Then he pointed the arrow at me and waited, as if expecting something from me.
