The Archer's Daughter (2 page)

Cate could not
believe her luck. Good fortune shined upon her, and on a hunting trip, no less. She’d set out for a morning check of her snares — empty, as of late — and stumbled upon a monstrous fallow buck. If she managed to take it down, it would ease the hunger pangs of the people in her village of Hawkhurst, what was left of them. Ravaged by the black death no more than some forty years prior, the many villages of Kent had yet to recover. And now, by order of the King, the people had been left to die in squalor — nearly a thousand less in only a month’s time. And for what?
Tactless attempts to enforce collection of taxes so high no honest man could pay, all to fund a war founded on greed.

A grunt in the bush brought her back to the task at hand.
Food
. Her stomach grumbled at the mere notion of a hot meal. She’d grown weary of her spotty diet of berries and vermin. Venison would be a welcome treat. She’d noticed her draw arm growing weary while hunting excisemen. The accompanying tremor could cost her her life.

Taking shelter behind a moss-covered tree, Cate readied her bow. She blurted out a guttural bleat, attracting the buck to bring him in closer. It crashed through the thicket, answering her call. Taking in a deep breath, she rounded the tree trunk to take aim.

Then abruptly retreated.

Guards approached. Honest to God genuine guards, brandishing swords and gleaming armor atop enormous beasts donning the royal colors.
The King’s Guard
. Cate’s heart fluttered. Her chance to make an impact to her father’s cause had finally arrived. She’d briefly counted four but was sure there had to be more. Guards never traveled in less than six to a scouting party. These men, these nobles, served the King directly. One of them could have been responsible for her father’s death, making them the perfect target. If she could take to the trees, she could kill at least four.

But she was alone, a foolish mistake on her part. She should have allowed Colin to accompany her, but the enemy hadn’t stepped foot in her forest in nearly a week. She needed him to scout for those responsible, not check rodent traps. Sliding to her stomach, Cate slithered away from the tree and into the cover of the brush. She would find a vantage point further up the road and wait to strike.

Stowing her bow and quiver across her back, Cate scaled a tree with a full canopy, fading into its lush colors. She brushed her brow with her sleeve, wiping away the gathered beads of sweat. Moments seemed to drag on.

There was entirely too much waiting in the murdering profession.

Soon, horse sweat and leather tingled inside her nostrils. The guards were near. Cate whipped the bow from her shoulder and plucked an arrow from its sheath, nestling it at its rightful place against the bowstring. A heated energy flowed from deep within her, coursing through her veins to the tips of her fingers, begging her to release the tension on the string. She did not deny it.

The arrow shot through the air, missing its intended destination by a hairsbreadth.
Damn
. She’d missed.

“Arrow!” A warning was called.

Her presence had been made known. Cate took a swift head count of her remaining arrows. Five. Perfect for taking down a deer, but unfortunate against six armed guards. A brief chill of panic threatened to take root but she pushed it aside, willing herself to be strong. She owed it to her father. She must fight.

From the sounds echoing below, Cate believed the guards to be readying to fight, but from the sound of their confusion, they could not apprise from where she shot. The thick forest canopy was a welcome friend.

She surveyed the area to her left. Several thick branches from a nearby tree overlapped the one she hid in. If she could get a shot off — and manage to hit someone this time — she could change locations before the men would be able to fire from below. Cate said a quick prayer, asking for the guards to be ill-equipped with weaponry, or shite shots with a bow.

“Courage, Cate.” She turned to face her opponents.

“There! Above!” A guard pointed in her direction, raising his bow to take aim.

Cate redirected her aim to the right, firing at the telling guard. Time for a new plan.

Run
.

An arrow hissed through the branches, and she lurched back, nearly unseated from her perch. Tree bark scraped her palms as she righted herself.

“Do not harm the boy!” one guard shouted. “Hold!”

“I am no
boy
!” Cate retaliated without first thinking.

“A lass, then?”

She silently chastised herself for her foolishness. “What else would I be, you dolt?”

They thought her a child — a fantastic ruse with the potential of aiding in her escape.

“Tell me then, girl, why have you attempted to end my life?”

The men scattered to various points along the forest floor; some on foot, others on horseback. A plan was in formation, but Cate had yet to gain knowledge of it. She took a deep breath.
Time to lie, Cate. Your life depends on it.

She let out a laugh, descending from the tree. “End your life? You, sir, were merely in the way of my arrow. I would have brought down that buck if you had not scared it away with your loud traipsing through the trees. Now my family will be forced to go hungry for yet another day. So I thank you… you and your overly loud mates.” She jumped the remaining distance to the ground then dusted the tree litter from her ill-fitting boy’s hose. She rose to her full height, nearly measuring up to the man standing in front of her.

He didn’t wear the King’s Guard uniform as the others in his party did, but donned loose riding breeches paired with well-constructed boots and a matching doublet with the finest detailing she’d ever seen. Deep greens and rich blues intermingled in various swirls and frills amongst the soft, blackened leather. Only the finest threads for the finest of men. He was the one she needed to kill.

And she’d missed.

Cate clenched her jaw, unwilling to reveal the panic seeping to the surface of her bold façade. The nobleman was handsome, she’d give him that, but his eyes concerned her. Between the deeply furrowed brow and the way his glances jetted about her body, she knew he judged her just as she did him.

“Hunting is not permitted on this side of the forest.”

He was testing her.

“Forgive me, as I do not believe the deer would heed the King’s boundaries. Since my hunting has ended, I must be returning home, as my father expects me soon. Good day, gentlemen.” She gave a slight courteous bow before turning on her heels intending to disappear back into the trees. No sooner had she stepped from the road when the familiar voice of one of her men echoed on the wind.

“
Hold
.”

Cate paused, her eyes drifting to the small dagger tucked securely in her boot.

“What is your name?”

She turned toward the man and cracked a smile. “Catherine, my lord.” She bowed slightly, assuming from his fine clothing he was of noble birth. She mustn’t forget formalities.

“Take care, Catherine. There is danger afoot in this wood. You should not stray so far from your village.”

“Thank you, my lord, for the kind words. I assure you I will heed your advice.” A stray lock of dark hair whipped across her face with the breeze. Tucking it behind her ear, she locked eyes with the nobleman.

“
Cate!
” Her name flittered about, broken by the swirling of leaves and branches above.

She winced at the familiarity her name brought to the men before her.
Damn you, Wallace, for having such concern as to track me down.
She opened her mouth to speak but decided fleeing would be the best course of action. The true identity of outlaw made known, she bolted for the shelter of the forest.

Orders were shouted behind her, and horses pounded the earth, but she dared not look away from the path before her. Heavy breaths burst from her lungs as she sprinted through the trees, ducking under low lying branches and leaping over moss-covered boulders. She forged deeper into the thick cover, making it ever harder for her pursuer to follow on horseback.

Perhaps they sought the bounty on her head but would abandon the chase when faced with the difficulties of the forest — a place she knew well. She’d instantly regretted her decision to release the guard with the tax collector’s head the moment she had revealed her name. But what was done was done, and now she must clean up her mess.

If this chase were to happen, she wasn’t about to make it easy. Several options blurred through her thoughts while she sought shelter — returning to camp for help, standing her ground to fight, and sticking to her original plan of taking to the canopy and pelting her enemy with arrows all had their advantages. Cate chose the latter.

The wood was her friend, her confidant, and she must utilize her strengths. She had a knack for a true aim, if only she focused on her target. From a young age, her father knew she’d inherited his skills with a bow, and he had trained her well. She needed to draw on those skills now. If she guessed correctly, Wallace and the rest of her men wouldn’t be far behind the guards. If she could elude her enemy long enough, she might just gain the upper hand.

Concealing herself as best she could between several closely spaced tree trunks, Cate drew an arrow and waited for the fight to come to her. Taking in a deep breath, she held the air in her lungs a moment before slowly releasing it though pursed lips. They were here.

The man she assumed to be a noble — the handsome one — spoke. He seemed calm and collected and not at all phased by her gallant romp through the forest. A tricky situation, indeed. She almost didn’t have the heart to end him.

Almost.

“Cate Archer! You are hereby under arrest by the order of his Majesty the King for rebellion and treason against the Crown. You must surrender and come with us!”

With her back pressed up against the trunk of a wide tree, she knew not what else to do but laugh. These men must take her for a fool. “Unfortunately, I must decline your invitation, my lord!”

“There is no choice in the matter, Cate.”

“There is always a choice. One only needs to make the correct judgment!” She closed her eyes, waiting for the flecks of shadow to leave her vision. She grew weary from the exertion. Fighting these men to the death would be less painful than the starvation she was surely faced with. Slinking to the bracken below, Cate kept the noble’s attention diverted. “Indulge me, my lord. I gave you my name, but I have yet to learn yours.”

Extending her arm the length of her side, Cate fumbled for the dagger tucked inside of her boot. Finding it, she withdrew it and clutched it to her chest. She prayed she wouldn’t have to use it. She had never stabbed a man before in such close quarters, and the thought left her stomach twisted in tight knots.

“We needn’t bother with names.”

Cate rose up to rest on her elbows, and shuffled to her left for a better view. “Oh, come now,” she toyed. “Play nice. ’Tis only fare I know the name of the man I aim to deprive of life.”

The man chuckled. The deep rumble echoed through the trees. “You seem very sure about that, Cate. How do you plan on carrying out this plan of yours, seeing as there are six of us, and one of you?”

“
You
seem very sure of yourself, my lord,” she quipped. “My men have you surrounded!”

“On the contrary…” The voice, deep and guttural, now growled from behind.

The nobleman.

Warm palms suddenly gripped her about the waist, flipping her to her back in one fluid revolution. As he held her, she couldn’t help but stare into his eyes. They were enthralling, like sparkling labyrinths of color. They reflected green but also a calming ocean blue. Dashes of amber speckled his irises, and for some unknown reason, they looked as though they had seen a lifetime he wanted to forget.

How she had missed his stealthy approach, she didn’t know. He had drawn her attentions elsewhere, and she had lost her focus. Perhaps it was the way he tried so very hard to hide the hint of a faint Irish lilt when he addressed her. Maybe it was the way the breeze blew the stray strands of tawny hair over his eyes and it didn’t seem to bother him in the least. Whatever the answer might be, he’d fooled her into thinking she had the upper hand.

Cate inhaled sharply, swinging her fist toward his head. Pommel met skull. The blow, although weak, was startling enough to send the man to his backside in surprise. She scrambled to her feet and snatched her bow and quiver only to then bolt in the direction she hoped her men would be. “Farewell, my lord!” she called out, flashing a grin at the unsuspecting sap. “May we never meet again!”

A shrill squawk fluttered throughout the air, sending Cate’s heart afloat. She returned Wallace’s bird call then turned in the direction from which the sound had originated. Pain coursed through her with each propulsion forward. Sweat lingered on her brow and she wiped it with the back of her palm, not willing to slow her pace. Her men were within sight now, just above a small ridge.

The earth reverberated beneath her feet with every footfall, but still she pressed forward.

“Cate!” Wallace called to her above the drone of the forest chatter. Pulling a sword from his side he flung it through the air in Cate’s direction. The sun glistened along the blade, splintering the light in a disarray of fragments as it arced through a clearing before plunging into the soft earth within sprinting distance of her. “Faster!”