Summer raised the longbow before her face and laid fingertips to the string. Finding a bow with the right draw was imperative to the ability to aim, and she had been through almost all of the bows in the training yard. Slowly, patiently, she drew the bowstring back to her ear, releasing it with a sharp twang.
“Perfect,” she murmured. Turning to the side, she picked up an arrow and fit it to the string. At least she was being allowed to continue with her archery, despite coming to London. For a little while there, she had been afraid her father was going to insist on her being a perfect court lady, in some mad attempt to catch the King’s eye.
The arrow smacked into the bullseye, and she picked up another arrow. That was really more her sister’s role, or had been, anyway. Now Winter was married and far away on the fringes of Wales, holding off the Glendower and his crazy rebels. And Summer was here, bored silly at a court with no queen and therefore no need for ladies in waiting.
She could feel someone’s eyes on her back, and elected to ignore them, firing off three more arrows in rapid succession.
Henry walked towards the woman, watching her progression of her archery, and he could not help but smile at how well she managed. He stood and watched for a while before he turned his head to her.
He had sworn he had known all the ladies in the court and yet he did not know her.
“Where had you learned how to fire my lady?” he asked her.
“The armsmaster on my father’s estate taught me. He said, blades were too much for a lady’s arms, but archery could be used on the hunt and I should be able to defend myself at need.” Summer kept firing, pacing herself and ringing the centre of the target with bristling shafts.
Drawing the last arrow from the quiver, she flashed a smile to the king, laid the arrow to the string, and sent it downrange to the farthest target. “Now the guard no longer lets me participate in their tournaments for that I outshoot them,” she confessed laughingly.
Laying the bow aside, she turned to the King and curtsied quickly. “Summer Rainault, at your service, highness.”
He smiled and bowed at her curtsey, and he pointed to the targets. “You would do well in tournaments, for your aim is true enough. Lady Rainault.”
Henry raised his own bow and it aimed perfectly next to hers, and he smiled as he looked at her.
“You should do well on the hunt this season,” he said, “If your father would wish you to remain here for that, we shall always be in need of such good archers.”
“Oh, well, I’ve leave to do as I like for so long as we remain here. Please don’t call me Lady Rainault, that’s my mother.” She fiddled with a lock of bright hair, that had come loose while she shot, while she talked. “I probably would not be allowed to dress up in armour and compete in the melee, though,” Summer laughed. “Father does have his limits. I thank you very much for your kind offer.”
Walking down to the targets, she began to tug the arrows loose, trying to preserve the heads if nothing else for later reuse. “I sometimes feel this castle is stifling, very closed in,” she said over her shoulder.