The heavy oak door of Prince Dominic's private chambers closed with a soft thud, shutting out the formalities and the echos of the court's formalities still buzzing faintly in his ears. He immediately shrugged off the stiff, black high-collared velvet tunic he had worn for the presentation, letting it fall unheeded onto a nearby chair. He ran a hand through his dark hair, a gesture of deep-seated restlessness. The air in the room, despite its spaciousness and high ceilings, felt stifling.
Lord Theodore entered a moment later, his expression carefully neutral, though his eyes held a knowing concern. "Are you alright, Dominic?" he asked quietly. "You seemed a bit… tightly wound in there. Ready to snap someone's head off."
Dominic paced to the window, staring out at the sprawling palace grounds without truly seeing them. "I'm fine," he replied, his voice curt. "Just needed to escape that suffocating atmosphere. All those polite smiles and veiled assessments." He finally turned. "Fresh air. That's what I need. And something to hit."
Theodore's lips curved into a slight smile. "Speaking of fresh air and something to hit… you know, you still owe me that archery challenge you so conveniently 'forgot' about last week."
Dominic raised an eyebrow, a flicker of his usual guarded amusement momentarily surfacing. "Challenge? When did I ever agree to such a strenuous undertaking? My memory of such rash promises must be failing me."
Theodore chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, don't you dare try that with me, Dominic. You promised! Last week, after I so cleverly outmaneuvered you in that sparring session in the tiltyard – or very nearly did, had you not resorted to that underhanded leg sweep. You said you'd let me test my archery progress against the 'unbeatable master marksman of Eldoria.'" He punctuated the grand title with a playful, mocking bow.
A reluctant smile touched Dominic's lips. "Ah, yes, that highly embellished version of events. Very well, cousin. Let's see if your aim has improved beyond merely scaring the pigeons from the stable roofs. To the grounds, then. Perhaps putting a few arrows into a target will clear my head."
* * *
The royal archery grounds were a well-maintained expanse of closely cropped grass, set against a backdrop of ivy-covered stone walls. Targets, their straw bosses tightly packed and their painted rings bright, were set at various distances.
A covered pavilion housed a rack of gleaming longbows of yew and ash, alongside quivers filled with arrows fletched with goose and swan feathers. The air here was crisp and clean, carrying the scent of cut grass and distant pine from the Royal Woods.
Dominic selected his preferred bow – a powerful yew longbow, dark and smooth from years of use, its string humming faintly as he tested it. He drew a black-shafted arrow from a nearby quiver, nocking it onto the string. He took his stance, feet shoulder-width apart, his body a study in controlled tension as he drew the heavy bowstring back to his anchor point beside his mouth, his gaze fixed intently on the farthest target, a hundred paces distant.
As he sighted down the arrow, his brow furrowed. "I don't like her," he said, his voice low and taut, the words almost a growl. "The Lady Viviana. Her Highness's lady-in-waiting." The arrow was still, steady, aimed at the heart of the target.
Theodore, who had chosen a slightly lighter but equally well-crafted ash bow, paused in the act of nocking his own arrow. A most unusual topic for Dominic to broach so directly, he thought. Especially about a lady-in-waiting he just met, and one attached to his future bride.
"Well, cousin," Theodore replied, his tone light and faintly amused as he mirrored Dominic's stance, preparing to shoot at an adjacent target. "Given the circumstances, I don't believe you're supposed to particularly like your betrothed's lady-in-waiting. Your focus, and presumably your affections, should probably be directed towards the Princess herself, wouldn't you say?"
Thwack!
Dominic released his arrow. It flew swift and true, a black streak against the sky, and embedded itself dead center in the red bullseye of the distant target with a satisfyingly solid sound.
He shot Theodore an icy glare. "You know perfectly well what I mean, Theodore. Don't play obtuse with me. It doesn't suit you."
Dominic nocked another arrow, his movements sharp, almost aggressive. "There's something… off about her. She's hiding something significant. I saw it in her eyes. Too calm, too controlled, too observant for a mere lady-in-waiting."
Thwack!
Another arrow slammed into the bullseye, almost splitting the shaft of the first. "She watches everything like a viper coiled in the tall grass, waiting for a chance to strike."
Theodore drew his own bowstring smoothly, aimed, and released. His arrow also flew true, striking the bullseye of his target with a neat thump. "A viper, Dominic?" he queried, reaching for another arrow. "Isn't that a touch dramatic, even for you? For a lady-in-waiting you've exchanged precisely zero words with? Perhaps she was simply nervous, finding herself in a new and somewhat intimidating court. Or tired from the long journey." He shot again; another perfect bullseye.
"Be careful, brother," Theodore continued, his tone a little more serious now, though a hint of teasing still lingered in his eyes as he nocked a third arrow. "If you keep speaking of her with such… intensity, people might begin to think you're developing an unhealthy fascination with your future bride's companion, rather than with the Princess Lilliana herself. Such talk could be… misinterpreted." He released his arrow; it joined the others in the center of his target.
"Nonsense," Dominic replied curtly, though a faint flush rose on his neck. He nocked and shot again, his arrow hitting the bullseye with more force than finesse, the impact vibrating through the target stand. "It's merely an astute observation. A precautionary one. One must be aware of all potential… elements within one's own court."
Theodore continued his own impeccable shooting, arrow after arrow finding its mark with quiet precision, a slight, knowing smile playing on his lips. He seemed to be enjoying this, both the archery and Dominic's unusual display of vexation.
Dominic finally lowered his bow slightly, watching Theodore with a frown as his cousin sent yet another arrow perfectly into the red. "If you are already this proficient, Theodore, capable of hitting the bullseye with your eyes closed, it seems, why did you insist on dragging me out here for this supposed 'test' of your progress?"
Theodore lowered his bow, his playful demeanor softening into one of genuine concern. He met Dominic's gaze steadily. "Because you looked like you were about to shatter into a thousand pieces back there in the throne room, cousin. Like a tightly wound clock spring. And because I know you. You needed to vent about what's truly frustrating you, not just some… 'viperous' lady-in-waiting who happened to catch your suspicious eye."
Dominic let out a long, weary sigh, the carefully maintained tension visibly draining from his shoulders. He unstrung his bow with a practiced motion and dropped it onto a nearby padded rack, then sank onto a simple wooden bench that stood in the shade of an old oak tree. "I don't want this marriage, Theo," he admitted, his voice low, stripped of its earlier anger, now just filled with a profound weariness and frustration. "I don't want any part of it."
Theodore placed his own bow aside with care and came to sit beside Dominic on the bench. A comfortable silence settled between them for a moment, the only sounds the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze and the distant calls of birds. "I know, Dom," Theodore said softly. "Or at least, I suspected as much. You've never been one for these… political arrangements."
He paused, then added, "But you know your mother… The Queen Regent. She believes this alliance with Tobit is paramount for Eldoria's future, for our stability and prosperity. She won't be easily swayed from this course. She sees it as her duty to the kingdom, and to your late father's legacy."
Dominic ran a hand through his hair, his expression grim. "Yes, I know. And that's precisely why I'm so damned angry. I'm angry that my hands are tied, that I'm little more than a pawn in her grand strategy. Angry that I have to sacrifice my own… preferences… my own future… for the 'good of the kingdom.'" His voice was bitter. "Angry that I wasn't even truly consulted, merely presented with a decision that was already made.
'Your bride arrives in a month, Dominic, do try to look pleased.' "Pleased!" He scoffed.
Before Theodore could respond – perhaps with words of consolation, or a piece of practical advice, or simply to let his cousin continue to unburden himself – the click of heels on the stone pathway leading to the archery grounds announced an arrival. A palace servant hurried towards them, his face flushed from his haste.
He bowed low, clearly apologetic for the interruption. "Your Royal Highness, Lord Theodore. My deepest apologies for this intrusion upon your practice."
Dominic, his mood already sour, looked up sharply. "What is it?" he asked, his tone curt.
The servant swallowed nervously. "A message from Her Majesty, the Queen Regent, Your Highness. She requests that you both begin your preparations for this evening's welcome banquet for Her Highness, Princess Lilliana of Tobit. She expects your timely and appropriate presence."
Dominic let out another sigh, this one of pure resignation. He closed his eyes for a moment, the brief respite of the archery grounds already fading. Theodore gave him a sympathetic glance, a silent acknowledgment of the duties that could not be shirked.
"Tell the Queen we'll be there shortly," Dominic told the servant, who bowed and left.