Read Arrow’s Flight for Free Online Page B

crowned heads do not defend themselves; that is the duty of others.”
    “Unless there’s no other choice?”
    Alberich nodded.
    Elspeth sighed. “I’m beginning to wish I wasn’t Heir, now. It doesn’t look like I’m going to be allowed to have any fun!”
    “Catling,” Talia panted, “If this is your idea of fun—you’re welcome to it!”
    Elspeth and Alberich exchanged rueful glances that said as plainly as words, she’ll never understand, and made shrugs so nearly identical that Talia was hard put to keep from laughing.
    Finally the day arrived for the long awaited—and dreaded—rite of Elspeth’s formal investiture as Heir. The fealty ceremony was scheduled for the evening with a revel to follow. Talia, as usual, was running late.
    She dashed from her last drilling session with Kyril to the bathing-room, then up to her tower suite, taking the steps two at a time. She thanked the gods when she got there that one of the servants had had the foresight to lay out her gown and all its accoutrements, else she’d have been later still.
    She donned the magnificent silk and velvet creation with trepidation. She’d never worn High Court ceremonials in her life, though she’d helped Elspeth into her own often enough.
    She faced the mirror, balancing on one foot while she tied the ribbons to the matching slippers around the ankle of the other.
    “Oh, bloody hell,” she sighed. She knew what a courtier ought to look like—and she didn’t. “Well, it’s going to have to do. I just wish ...”
    “You wish what?”
    Jeri and Keren rapped on the side of the tower door and poked their heads around the edge of it. Talia groaned; Jeri looked the way she wished she looked, gowned and coiffed exquisitely, every chestnut hair neatly twisted into a High Court confection and precisely in place.
    “I wish I could look like you—stunning, instead of stunned.”
    Jeri laughed; to look at her, no one would ever guess this lady was nearly the equal of Alberich in neatly dissecting an opponent with any weapon at hand. “It’s all practice, love. Want some help?” Her green eyes sparkled. “I’ve been doing this sort of nonsense since I was old enough to walk, and mama usually commandeered all the servants in the house to attend her preparations, so I had to learn how to do it myself.”
    “If you can make me look less like a plowboy, I will love you forever!”
    “I think,” Jeri replied merrily, “that we can manage at least that much.”
    For the next half hour Talia sat on her bed in nervous anticipation as arcane things happened to her hair and face while Jeri and Keren exchanged mysterious comments. Finally Jeri handed her a mirror.
    “Is that me?” Talia asked in amazement, staring at the worldly sophisticate in the mirror frame. She could scarcely find a trace of Jeri’s handiwork, yet somehow she had added experience and a certain dignity without adding years or subtracting freshness. Replacing her usual disordered tumble of curls was a fashionable creation threaded through with a silver ribbon.
    “Do I dare move? Is it all going to come apart?”
    “Havens, no!” Jeri laughed, “That’s what the ribbon’s for, love. It isn’t likely to happen this time, praise the Lord, but you know very well what your duty is in an emergency. The Queen’s Own is supposed to be able to defend her monarch at swordpoint, then calmly clean her blade on the loser’s tunic and go right back to whatever ceremony was taking place. That’s why your dress is ankle-length instead of floor-length, has no train, and the sleeves detach with one pull—yes, they do, trust me! I ought to know; I supervised the making of it. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a female Monarch’s Own, and nobody knew exactly how to modify High Court gear to suit. At any rate, you could work out now with Alberich without one lock coming loose or losing any part of the costume you didn’t want to lose. But don’t rub your eyes, or