Damn. Archery has never been my favorite, and clearly, Paedyn doesn’t feel the same. She’s a natural. So confident, so controlled, as if the bow is nearly an extension of her arm. The arrow obeys her as she wills it to land exactly where she wants. And I’m suddenly thinking she’s right. I might lose this. “You’re up.” She steps back beside me, and with a mocking whisper, says, “Good luck, Azer.” Plague knows I’ll need it.
