Page 18 of Tender Thorns
I lean down and inhale the top of her head. She’s exuding pheromones, even if she’s acting like she doesn’t know it. “Never look back. Always look for the threat ahead of you.” My voice is low and filled with need. I’d rather pluck out my own fingernails than release her, but I pry my fingertips off her one by one until she pulls away from me and rubs the side of her temple like she has a headache.
“So running is out of the equation.”
“You say that now, but you haven’t seen me fight,” she quips, but I’m not laughing. I wasn’t lying when I said there may be a time when I’m not there to protect her, and I need to know she can at least survive until I can get there to make sure she does.
“What about weapons? Do you have any affinity?”
“Unless it’s a pitchfork to muck a stall, I’m pretty useless there too. Are you sure I should really be here? I didn’t think I would be expected to fight. I just figured I’d be a test dummy for everyone to use their powers on like usual.”
The reminder of her past does nothing to improve my disposition. Her father needs to die, painfully and very soon, or I might lose my fucking mind.
“Your ability will be tested, little flower, everyone’s is, but you will not be used for anything, especially not a test dummy.”
Briar drops her head for a moment, then glances up. “I’m okay with a bow. Not great, but I can hit the target most of the time.” She tamps down my expectations quickly, but at least she’s given me something to work with.
“Wait here,” I instruct, then make my way over to the small armory closet. My hand instinctually goes to my bow, but I think better of it before even lifting it. It will be much too heavy for her to hold, let alone pull the string. Instead, I grab a lightweight longbow made of yew and a shoulder quiver. One of the very few benefits of this weapon is stealth, but you lose speed and even some accuracy without the recurve.
Just as I’m about to close the doors, a small bolt crossbow catches my eye. It’s compact, just like she is, and strong enough to pierce the hide of an ogre, unlike the longbow. When I return to the sand, she’s eyeing the equipment in my hands. She looks wary, but I can work with that. What isn’t going to work are the baggy sleeves of her shirt. I knew her attire would be a problem when I first saw her this morning, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her that when it was clear she went to some effort. Looking at her now, I’m still torn. “Do you have anything under your top?” Her eyes pop wide, and she looks down. “The sleeves are too loose. It would be best if your arms were bare.”
“My bindings,” she admits softly.
“Bindings?” My mind immediately envisions her in a corset, but that’s not what she’s talking about. I don’t stop her when she begins unbuttoning her shirt with trembling hands, but I want to when I see the filthy cotton she has wrapped around her torso so tightly, I don’t know how she’s managing to breathe.
I look away, angry again about the things she’s been through and what she so easily puts up with. “Leave it on,” I rasp, unable to look at the material digging into her already too thin frame.
She doesn’t make a sound as she resecures her shirt, but her features have shifted. Her eyes are cast low again, and her cheeks are a ruddy pink that speaks of embarrassment. The desire to reassure her is there, as are several other ideas, like ripping the damn binding off of her, but then I imagine seeing what’s underneath, and I’m not sure I have the strength to walk away from that, knowing what she is to me. I’m also absolutely aware she’s not ready for that, so I do nothing but extend the longbow to her.
Briar wraps her fingers around the center handle. Her fingers are barely long enough to circle the damn thing, and it’s nearly as tall as she is. If the situation wasn’t so important, it might be funny, but her safety isn’t a laughing matter.
I take a step closer to her and loop the leather quiver over her head to rest against her chest. It is too large for her, but until I get one made for her, it will have to work. Without instruction, she reaches back, pulls out an arrow, and notches it on the string, using her finger to hold the arrow in place. It tells me she has used this kind of weapon before, which gives me a miniscule amount of hope.
“I’ll arrange a target for you. Have you ever used one of these?” I place the crossbow near her feet.
“No.” She shakes her head, and I notice the pink in her cheeks has already faded.
“We’ll work on that after you show me what you can do with the bow. I trust its ability to kill a little more.”
“To kill?” she blurts. “Who am I killing?”
“Anyone who would harm you.”
She looks down at the weapon at her feet and swallows thickly. It looks like my little flower is even more delicate than Ithought. It might take some convincing to get her to understand that some things just need to die. “Let me see if you can handle the weight of the string.” I distract her with the job at hand.
With practiced confidence, she pulls her elbow back while keeping her other arm straight and lines the arrow up with the side of her mouth. The dark feathers kiss her cheek for only a moment before I see her thin arms begin to tremble ever so slightly.
“Release it into the sand.”
She twitches but doesn’t let go. “It will ruin the arrow.”
“Second lesson, don’t argue with me.”
The arrow flies before my next heartbeat, lodging twenty feet away in the sand as I’d asked. She peeks over at me as if she’s expecting censure.
“Was that where you were aiming?”
She shrugs. “I wasn’t really aiming.”
“I always want you to have a target. That way, you can learn to adjust and improve your accuracy. Do it again and try to hit the same spot.” I lean back and cross my arms over my chest. Briar opens her mouth as if to say something, but then she snaps it closed and readies the shot. I would bet she was going to argue about wasting the shot, but the fact that she didn’t proves she’s a fast learner.
