“I’m not going anywhere, Ace. I’ve got twenty crowns on Cadogan pulling this off.”
“All my hard work in fixing you will go to waste if you’re stomped to a pulp.”
“She’s not going to relent, is she?” Farley whines.
“Nope,” Jac replies, watching Penn sweep Cadogan’s feet out from under him. The crowd pulses with cheers. “There go your crowns. Might as well go with her, mate.” He pauses, eyes shifting to mine. “Just…don’t go far.”
I sigh. “Yes, O devoted nursemaid.”
The crowd of soldiers surges forward as more blood spills inthe pit, pinning me against the fence and nearly knocking Farley over. I reach out to steady him.
“Fine, Ace.” He grips his crutches tighter. “I’ll go with you. But fair warning: you’ll be forced to entertain me if I do.”
“Oh? And how, exactly, am I going to do that?”
“Ever hurl an axe?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Toss a javelin?”
“No.”
“Surely you’ve thrown spears, then.”
“No, Farley, I can’t say I have much experience with spears.” My eyes shoot to Jac when he makes a strangled sound. “Don’t say it.”
His mouth snaps closed, cutting off a chuckle. “Say what?”
“Whatever impulsive, inappropriate comment was no doubt brewing in your mind.”
“How do you know it was inappropriate?”
“When do you ever say anything appropriate?”
He merely grins.
“If you two are quite finished,” Farley says, pivoting on his crutches, “I think we’ll save the throwing instruments for when I’m back on both feet. Stick with something we already know you can do.”
“Which is?”
“I saw some open archery targets by the back barracks,” he calls over one shoulder as he disappears into the mob. “Let’s see how good your aim is in the light of day, Ace.”
Chapter
Twenty-one
“Another one!”
“How many is that?” Farley calls grumpily from behind me.
“A clean dozen.” Smiling, I lower my bow and turn to face him. “Pay up.”
“You’ll rob me blind, woman.”
I shrug, unconcerned, as I walk back to the low stone fence surrounding the archery arena where I’ve spent the past half hour hitting every target with a precision that impresses even myself. A crowd of spectators has gathered to watch as I shoot bullseye after bullseye. I suspect most of them are more interested in getting a closer look at the Air Remnant than actually seeing my skills with a bow, but they’ve placed bets nonetheless. This final round involved me hitting all twelve dummies directly through the heart. Farley had staked fifty crowns I’d miss at least one.
“He’s already half-lame, Ace.” Jac looks pleased as punch as he pockets the winnings from his copper-headed friend. “You want him out on the streets begging for coin as well?”