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Don’t wait to find the target—find the target with your hands and your eyes as you draw. I moved, my hand tracking up, my eyes finding the painted red center heart of the target, allowing my aim to settle for barely a half a second, then firing.
    The arrow shot out, hitting the target just a finger away from the red dot. Curse it! I rolled my shoulders to relax my muscles, let breath pool in my chest and let my head empty.
    Quick movements. Arrow to bow-string, nock and draw.
    Find the target. There!
    Draw a little further. Breathe out—release.
    This time the arrow kissed the edge of the large, red dot.
    “Good, but I’ve seen a better aim from your brother.” I turned to the voice behind me and saw a tall, young man striding toward me.
    I recognized him at once. “Prince Justin.” I gave him a low bow.
    Justin was, I had to admit, pretty handsome. He had jaw-length, blond hair cut sharply, high cheekbones and deep blue eyes that seemed always to hold a laugh. I stared at him wondering why he looked better today than he ever had as a boy. Was it because now he wore a Dragon Rider’s armor? In the late afternoon sun, the metal gleamed silver over his broad chest, and the leather on his arms and legs was as supple and fine as any I’d ever seen. As a boy in fine silks and ruffles, he’d never been this good-looking.
    “Lady Agathea.” Prince Justin bowed. He gave me a crooked smile, and the heat rushed up my neck and into my face. He leaned close and said, “I still remember when you used to put rock lizards down the back of my shirt.”
    I winced. “Ah. You remember that.” House Flamma had always been close allies with the rulers of Torvald. As children, we had all been at the same spring and summer festivities. My mother had always told me to behave as fit the House Flamma, but I had not always listened. The young Prince Justin and I met as only toddlers— he had been a lot pudgier than he was now and I hadn’t liked how he’d stolen my apple tarts. I hadn’t seen him in years, however. When Ryan’s green dragon had decided to match Ryan with Prince Justin, Father had been delighted, but it had taken both Ryan and the prince into the duties of Dragon Riders. Ryan was always telling me about some new tale of adventure and about the bravery of Prince Justin, but the prince was often on patrol, and so we had rarely met since early childhood.
    He gave a laugh. “Yes, I do remember, and I remember that it was my fault for being unkind to you.” He pointed at the archery range. “I should have known you’d be a good archer. Even back then you always wanted to run after the boys and copy them.”
    “Growing up with two older brothers, my lord, leaves a girl feeling she must be as good as them.”
    “Thankfully, you have not grown up to have their rough looks as well.” My face heated even hotter, so did the rest of my body. He took my bow from my hands. “Let’s see how good a match you are for me.”
    He seized up an arrow. He drew the bow back, and I could see the strength of his arms and chest flexing. He breathed in—so did I—and released the arrow.
    The arrow hit with a hard sound and quivered just a few fingers off center.
    “Very good, my lord,” I said, accepting my bow back.
    “Oh, just Justin, please. I am not ready to be lord of all the realm yet.” He gave a wide grin.
    Mouth set, I was determined to best him. I felt as if he was amused by me, and not thinking I could every pose a serious threat to anyone. Breathe. Draw. Aim. My arrow hit and quivered next to his, inside the red circle, but not as close as his to the center.
    “Well done!” he said, his eyes narrowing, but with his mouth still curved. I did not think he meant the words. He turned to me. “How’s the training going? I saw you sparring, you know. You’re good with a quarterstaff.”
    “Better with a sword.” I walked with him to retrieve our arrows. I wondered if I could tell him the truth about my