The bow was giant in her hands, heavy and thick. But not awkward. The tension on the bowstring made her muscles burn with tightness, but it felt right.
Maybe she did know what she was doing.
Or maybe she was going to accidentally shoot a squirrel.
She looked ahead and saw three targets, all at different distances.
“You can aim for the closer target,” Tristan’s voice said from the side. “You don’t have to aim for the same target I hit.”
Was that a challenge?
Scarlet glared at Tristan over her shoulder for a moment, trying to read his emotions.
Patience.
Nothing else.
Scarlet looked back at the targets. The closer one would be easier to hit. She could probably throw a rock and nail the bull’s-eye on that one.
The target Tristan had hit was farther away and more worn from use. It would be more difficult, if she could even hit it at all.
Which she probably couldn’t.
But then she saw an even farther target, nestled in a group of trees so far away the target was nearly hidden in shadows.
It was an impossible target. And Scarlet readjusted her bow and aimed right for it.
If she was going to fail, she would fail at something impossible.
The muscles in her torso and shoulders began to tremble with exertion from holding the arrow in place for so long, but the burn made her feel strong. She pulled the arrow back even more, the bowstring sharp as a razor blade under the pressure, and she took a steady breath.
Please don’t let me kill any squirrels.
Keeping her eyes on the impossible target, Scarlet released the arrow with a whoosh. It cut through the air, flying into the trees and shadows until finding its resting place.
Bull’s-eye.
Pride immediately exploded inside Scarlet. Strong pride. Warm pride.
But it wasn’t hers. It was Tristan’s.
Tristan was proud of her.
Scarlet turned to look at him with every intention of smirking or bragging, but when she saw his face all thoughts left her mind.
He was smiling at her. Like he never doubted her for an instant.
And he reminded her of something beautiful. Something lost.
“You remembered,” he said quietly.
Lowering the bow, Scarlet kept her eyes on him. “I remembered.”
They stared at each other, passing pride and hope back and forth between their connection and, for the first time since she’d met Tristan, she didn’t hate the curse.
Tristan’s smile went crooked. “Now do it again.” He pulled another arrow from his quiver and tossed it to her.
Scarlet snatched it out of the air effortlessly, a smile pulling up the corners of her mouth.
With Tristan looking at her like that—like she was powerful and amazing and strong—she could do anything.
22
Scarlet sighed in frustration as she walked through the dead leaves of the forest floor. She and Tristan had been hunting all morning, but had yet to see a single creature.
“It is as if all the animals of the forest have been scared away,” Scarlet said, squinting into the trees.
Tristan came up beside her, looking around as well. “Food is scarce and people are desperate. The animals have probably fled to safer regions.”
Scarlet frowned as they moved on.
“Do not worry,” Tristan said beside her. “You have plenty of food at home.”
“Yes, but winter is coming soon and I have nothing preserved.”
“Do you think I will let you go hungry?”
“No,” Scarlet responded. “But I’d rather not rely on you through the winter months when the snow is so thick your journey to my hut will be impossible.”
He smiled happily. “Nothing is impossible.”
She looked at him with a half-smile. “Youare impossible.”
“As are you, my lady.”
“Don’t call me that.”
He laughed. “Why not?”
“Because I am not a lady.” Scarlet looked straight ahead as they walked. “I am a thief.”
He shrugged. “You are a ladythief.”
“Who steals from your father,” Scarlet added.
Tristan was silent for a long moment and Scarlet regretted her words.
She hated reminding him of her crimes. It was probably hard enough for him to overlook them when he was sneaking food away from his castle, let alone while he was traipsing through the woods with her.
She was a fool.
“My father is a greedy man.” Tristan looked up at the treetops. “He takes and takes, and thinks only of himself. Any theft you’ve committed against him was deserved.” They walked on for a minute before Tristan concluded, “I hope to never be like him.”
Scarlet turned to face him. “What do you hope to be like?”
Tristan tilted his head, the sunlight painting his face as he thought. “I hope to live with a purpose beyond myself. I hope to have a life of meaning, a life worth fighting for. Dying for.” He shrugged. “I hope to be much more than I am.”
Respect filled Scarlet as she looked at the hunter beside her. The hunter who had surrendered his kill to her, saved her from thieves, shared his food with her mother.
“You are already the man you describe.”
As the sun filtered in through the trees and splashed against their cloaks and hunting gear, Scarlet looked Tristan over and a realization struck her, causing her heart to beat wildly in her chest.
Somewhere between the trees and the dirt, Scarlet had fallen in love with the hunter. Hopelessly in love.
For there was no hope for love between a thief and a nobleman.
His eyes locked on hers for a thick moment before a flock of birds rushed into the sky above them.
At first, Scarlet thought nothing of it. But when she moved forward to walk on, Tristan gently grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him. He placed a finger in front of his full lips and motioned for her to be quiet.
Scarlet searched the trees surrounding them, but saw nothing, heard nothing. And Tristan had yet to let go of her wrist.
Which she did not mind at all.
A distant rustle, a pounding of hooves and Scarlet realized someone was coming toward them.
No.
A groupof someones were coming toward them.