Bloodmark

19: An Ache

[first draft; feedback, critique, and comments welcome; please point out any typos]  

If I want, the archery teacher can craft a custom bow for me. It'll take longer to start lessons, the King informs me, having to wait for the personalized weapon. Premade options are available, but none of them call out to me.

King Atlas picks up on my hesitancy, as he approaches the teacher and requests a custom bow on my behalf. He sloughs off my protests, and soon, the archer measures my wingspan. Strangely it is like he is tailoring clothes for me. I wonder if, to the worker, a bow is considered another piece of clothing, an extension of self.

As we amble back to our private wing, King Atlas regales me with tales of his own archery lessons. When I silently wonder if he'll teach me, he confesses that he is no good at the sport. He much prefers music—thus the grand piano in his room. My worry must be palpable, because the King reassures me that he'll accompany me, should I wish it. Which I do.

In our separate rooms now, I sink onto the chaise lounge, feet tucked beneath me.

I rely entirely on King Atlas, I realize with a frown. With his comforting presence, and the fact that he never pushes me, to depend on him comes easily. But it is pathetic that I cannot even handle an archery lesson without him by my side. But since my arrival at Trichov, he has been one of the few wonderful parts.

He, and Belef, Clementine, Star—my friends.

An ache stabs my heart, and I press a hand to my eye. Belef. The first person here to welcome me without a second thought. She understands me better than anyone, became my truest friend and guardian. And yet, since being Marked, I have locked myself inside these four walls, too consumed by an unending string of what-ifs to even dare to try.

But surely, surely, if anyone understands my troubled heart, it is Belef. I needn't fear around her. She is too kind to respond to my sudden disappearance with anything but compassion.

I plan to visit my friends, travel to the servants' wing, without the King. Perhaps my dependency on him does not have to be too extreme.

As I contemplate when to venture to the servant quarters, my eyelids grow heavy. Before I can convince myself that the sooner the better, slumber washes over me.