Read Online Daughters of Ruin by K. D. Castner - Free Book Online Page B

stepped sideways to the next station, nocked an arrow with a fletching the color of Corentine blue, and let it fly. One after another. Blindingly fast, impossibly precise. Soon the second billboard showed a constellation of blue fletching shaped like the spires of the crest of Corent.
    Iren herself couldn’t have stitched a more accurate rendering.
    Cadis moved on to the last station. The fletching, green. Findain. Home.
    She sent the first arrow toward the center of the board to make the crow’s nest. She knew this crest by heart. She could have shot it into the side of a kite flapping in the wind, three hundred yards in the air.
    The Findish clipper ship.
    Fern green.
    Full sail.
    The arrows hit their marks as if they were blooming out of the board.
    The last one shuddered into place to form the prow.
    Cadis was breathing heavily.
    Her fingers burned.
    Her shoulder throbbed.
    But it was perfect.
    Three constellations as faultless as the night sky.
    Several children lost themselves in the wonder and clapped hysterically.
    But the rest of the crowd murmured their suspicions. It was an insult to have left out Meridan. There were no more billboards. Surely this proved the allegiance of the faithless Findish queen.
    Cadis let the murmuring grow into a dissatisfied rumble. A few men booed from the balcony. It was the climax. A good story always needs some uncertainty, some tension. Cadis stepped to the last quiver of arrows, their feathers crimson and gold.
    The crowd was not appeased. There was no billboard for them.
    Cadis nocked the first arrow.
    She raised the bow upward. The crowd shrieked and flinched away when it pointed in their direction, but Cadis lifted the bow until it aimed straight up into the sky. She aimed by aligning it to the flagpoles at the top of the mezzanine.
    She let go.
    The people gasped.
    It could land anywhere.
    Mothers and fathers covered their children.
    Cadis didn’t wait for it to land, but sent another and another.
    They were lost in the noon light. Cadis continued to shoot, straight up, adjusting by imperceptible degrees. And soon the first arrow whistled back down, and a rain of others followed, stabbing into the dirt floor of the arena.
    Not a single stray drop—all around her. Cadis shot as if to put out the sun.
    And it rained as if to mock human ambition.
    Soon the mothers and fathers realized they were safe, and the children finally wrestled out of their grip to get a better look.
    The arrows planted into the coliseum floor all around Cadis to form the dragon on the Meridan crest. A gigantic wyrm. The mezzanine noticed it first, and the roar began. Cadis grinned as she launched the last arrow into the air.
    She had choreographed the climax for the better part of the year.
    A bow to the king.
    Declan, well pleased, nodded.
    A bow to the people, who laughed in astonishment and continued to grow in volume as the arrows fell into place to detail the image.
    And finally, as the best Findish bards knew, Cadis left them wanting more. She turned and strode toward the horse gate, even as the arrows plummeted around her. By the time the last arrow hit the ground, forming the eye of the dragon, the entire coliseum was on its feet, and Cadis had disappeared into the shadow of the gate.
    â€œWell done,” said Marta, as she reached out to take the bow.
    â€œWell done? That’s it?” said Cadis. She threw the bow aside, grabbed Marta in a bear hug, and lifted the shorter woman off the ground. “I did it!”
    â€œOf course you did, darling.”
    â€œWhy aren’t you more surprised? Be more surprised.”
    â€œOkay, okay. I’m surprised,” said Marta, laughing and straightening her uniform.
    â€œWell, you shouldn’t be,” said Cadis, pretending to scoff. “There was never any doubt.”
    They both burst into giggling until the attendants came to fetch Cadis for her next event.
    They walked to the other side of the arena using the