Chapter 39 – Between Midwinter and New Year’s

Wherein the women attend another party and Valentina and Bosra reflect on their love-lives.

The three women attended another fancy party to celebrate the Birth of Light, the last of the Midwinter Holidays.

All three wore beautiful dresses again, befitting a matinée ball. Bosra once again wore an asymmetrical creation that left her gold ink visible.

Valentina looked regal where Rose looked cute.

There was a happy-go-lucky atmosphere at the party – jovial. People were celebrating by dancing and playing games. There was good food. Of course there was, but it was light and could be picked up whenever. There was light cider and sparkling wine, but juices and cordials too. There were young teenagers present, all dressed like lords and ladies.

Bosra was avoiding spaces with too many people, trying to avoid being pulled into conversations about her heroics. Somehow, as she thought she had found a quiet spot to observe her friends as they danced, she got cornered by two young lords.

"You’re Golden Bow, I saw your mark," a red-haired, blue eyed half-elf man said. He wore a dark-blue suit with vividly coloured embroidery befitting today’s occasion. "You’re a legend."

"Cool. Now leave. Go dance with your sister." Bosra didn’t know if he had one, but it was worth a guess.

"We don’t have a sister. I heard there’s been targets set up in the garden, will you participate in the archery contest?" the second man asked, a dark-haired copy of the first, same blue eyes, same embroidered dark-blue suit.

Bosra looked past the two, trying to gauge if she could stomp away. Games were commonplace on Birth of Light day, but to have an archery contest felt rather too on the nose.

"It sucks about your drake, by the way. Did you really lose him to a necromancer?"

She looked down at the two.

"I did. He saved my life. I tore the skull from the evil skeleton’s vertebrae. My crew destroyed his bindings. He’s not rising again." And neither was Buddy.

"To continue in the face of such adversity is admirable."

Bosra snorted. They didn’t know what they were talking about. "G’day." She stepped past them, not caring that she ground her heel on long tipped toes.

She found Rose just as Rose found her.

"Hey, found you," Rose smiled, breathing faster than usual and looking a little haggard. "There’s an archery contest set up in the yard, and people are talking about you participating."

Bosra put a hand on Rose’s arm, stilling her before she keeled over. "Heard about that."

Rose blinked owlishly. "Are you going to?" she asked tentatively.

The simple question forced Bosra to weigh her options. To walk away would be the easiest solution. No temptation, no problem. She would probably annoy the host, but there was no guarantee she wouldn’t if she did compete.

"You shouldn’t do it, if you don’t want to."

Bosra hummed at the Pupper’s concern. "I’m gonna, or they ain’t ever gonna let me go." It would just be the next rich patron who would attempt to get her to prove herself.

Rose tensed and bit her lip. "Okay. I’m sure people will understand if you don’t compete."

Bosra snorted. She doubted that. Just this once, she would be a monkey who performed tricks on command.

"Find Tina. I’m headed out."

Rose frowned. "Shouldn’t I come with you?"

"Nah. I got this."

Bosra stalked the halls until she found an exit. With multiple people going in and out, she figured this led to the yard. She was lauded with applause and cheers. They annoyed her. She wasn’t a glamorous bard seeking validation. However, she let the crowd lead her to the shooting gallery that had been set up.

It was a travesty.

There was a lane with a target at the end, sure. But it was thirty meters long, at most. The bows provided were tiny cavalry bows, those used in the outer provinces of the Wold-Sea by nomadic tribes.

She picked one up, tested the string and snapped the thing in two. She tossed it aside. "I’ma need a bigger one."

A crowd gathered at her back, insofar as there hadn’t been one before. As a silent menace, with arms folded over her chest, she waited for servants to bring out the bigger pieces of wood. She refused to be enraged by the susurrus of gossip going through the crowd.

Rose fought her way to the front, using her elbows and stepping on toes to get it done. She wasn’t going to miss a second of the drama that was sure to unfold.

Valentina followed in her wake, profusely apologising to appease those Rose had slighted.

A liveried servant brought out a collection of bows, one sporting a thick layer of dust. None of the five were as large as Bosra’s own composite yew branch.

Purely out of recalcitrance, Bosra picked up the smallest of the five, tested the string and snapped this one in half too. She tossed aside the remains, picked up the next smallest bow and tried again.

On the third bow of the newly provided stock, she got to nocking an arrow, one that didn’t really match the size of the bow, and shot it into the straw disk.

"Move it back."

The same servant that supplied the bows hurried to move the target back several paces. Bosra urged to go even further as the crowd murmured incredulously. As soon as the servant had cleared the lane, Bosra shot again, putting as much tension on the bow as she dared. This time, the string frayed as the arrow was launched.

She tossed the useless piece of wood aside and picked up the next. She ran her fingers over the string and flexed the bow. It groaned under her ministrations. She tossed it too, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort of trying to fire anything.

This meant there was only one bow left. It was the dustiest of all of them. The carvings indicated it was most likely never meant to be shot, but as Bosra flexed it and tested the string, it behaved well. She felt a light tingling sensation at her fingertips.

Magic, go figure, she huffed to herself.

"Move it back," she ordered the lackey, nodding towards the target. "As far as you can."

She knocked an arrow. It was again not truly the right fit for this bow, but she would make it work.

Three arrows she fired in rapid success, all piercing the bullseye painted on the straw disk.

After the first, the crowd quieted. After the third shot, even the birds seemed to have fallen silent.

Bosra handed the bow back to the servant. "This one’s good."

As she stomped away, the crowd parted. Rose followed on her heel.

Valentina found them again as they were putting on their coats.

"I have just excused us with Lord and Lady Gilroy, they are sad to see us go. But you are not a pet to be exploited."

It was Bosra’s turn to frown. She hadn’t asked the girl for her interference, making her feel belittled, yet she was grateful for it too.

"What were they thinking, honestly?" Valentina asked, loud enough to be heard three rooms over. "That just because you are some famed adventurer, you are theirs to display and admire?"

Enjoying the scene she was making, Valentina maneuvered her friends out the door, into a carriage.

A few quiet days followed. On Luminsday they went for a brew at Paragon’s Cup as usual. Valentina tagged along as Rose travelled there early. She looked forward to playing away the afternoon on her newly acquired viola. And she did. She played until her fingers were sore and her neck stiff.

Her knees made an ominous popping sound as she sat down. She accepted a tall cup from Valentina, creamy foam threatening to spill from the top. She sipped with a sigh, watching the late afternoon commuters go by.

A well-known tall, broad figure stepped into view.

As she entered, she brought a gust of cold wet air with her, making Valentina grateful for the foot-stove under the table. She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders, listening quietly as Rose greeted Bosra.  

Just as Rose bit into the cinnamon roll Valentina got her earlier, one of the other customers came over to talk, and then another.

"You must be going to Bardic College, right?" one of them asked. This one was a man in his late twenties, who Rose knew as a regular that traded in ‘cruelty free’ woollen fabrics – whatever that was supposed to mean.

Rose nodded, using her full mouth as an excuse to answer.

"I mean, if you weren’t, you really should," the other said. This was also a man a few years older than herself, one she had seen around before. He was a bit bulkier and his shirt was stained in a way that revealed he was a manual labourer, no matter the nice jacket he wore, or the quality overcoat rolled up and tucked under his arm. "You’re talented."

"We missed you around here. We come as much for you as for the coffee."

Rose felt her cheeks heat up at these compliments. "Really? Thanks." She pressed her hands to her cheeks.

"Will you be here next week?" the first asked, to which Rose nodded.

"See you then," the other said with a wink.

More customers were drawn to Rose and the two men left. Rose dedicated more time to answering questions and chatting with fans, nibbling on her cinnamon roll whenever she wanted to avoid answering a question or remark.

Bosra stretched her legs and leaned back, watching Rose talk with her hands and posture, as much as she used words. She had worked hard to get all the riding and pack animals sorted that day. Reginald had managed to hire a couple of new boys to help out, but they were young humans. Though they worked hard, they couldn’t lift and tow the same load as tougher races – like half-greens or Highlanders – could.

The stable was full; with travellers coming in to celebrate the winter holidays in Splendor, there were plenty of beasts that needed shelter and care. Soldiers were returning, too, to pass time until spring. Among them was the Sovereign Knight whose horses she cared for previously.

Bob the barista brought her a cup of joe. She sipped the bitter black brew, grateful for something warm to hold.

"I heard there’s going to be a party at your house?" he ventured, handing her a plate with an assortment of patisserie.

"Yeah. New Year’s Eve. For friends of Rose." Bosra saw no harm in answering. She accepted the plate and bit into a miniature apple pie.

"You’re not inviting anyone yourself?" Bob continued.

Bosra shrugged. She saw no need. "Don’t think dire-goats like music all that much."

Bob grinned sheepishly, scratching the back of his head and in doing so tousling his man-bun. "You’re probably right."

A customer dinged the bell at the counter, interrupting the conversation. Bob hurried back to his station.

"He likes you." Valentina bumped her shoulder into Bosra’s.

Bosra raised a brow. "Again with this?" She had not forgotten a previous conversation, months before. This scrawny human wasn’t her type.

Valentina managed a grin. "He was fishing for an invite."

"He can keep fishing." Bosra didn’t want the worm at her house. If she had to invite anyone, she would rather it be the Knight she had beat up at the first gala than this scrawny human with his manicured goatee.

Valentina giggled into her cup.

Bosra snorted at that. She took a long drink from her own. "How ‘bout you? Your elf any decent?"

Valentina sobered up quickly. She frowned down at her lap. "He probably is."

"But?"

"It is purely politics."

Bosra snorted again and stuffed her face with more perfectly tasty patisserie.

~~

Bear With Me is Part Two of my shifter romance short story series, and is the counterpart to Leap Year Curse. It releases September 30th on Kindle/ KU.
Contact me if you'd love to read, but don't want to touch Amazon/Kindle, even with an eleven foot pole.