“I told you,” she snapped. Believe me! she wanted to shout. Let me join you.
Except that her brothers had never let her join them in training or in battle. She was on the outside looking in.
“Here, take it.” She thrust the arrow at him so hard he was forced to grasp it. His brows shot up when the arrow made contact with his skin, then dropped as he frowned at it. Her breath caught in her lungs as she watched him inspect it.
“You feel it, don’t you?” The vibration of power emitted by the arrow was unmistakable.
His eyes met hers, but he said nothing. He handed it off to Bradan, whose head jerked when he touched it.
“Camulos?” Bradan asked.
She nodded. “He uses the bow for war. Not just hunting.”
Marrek frowned at that, but he too stiffened when the arrow was passed his way.
“We had a competition. I beat him.”
Caedmon laughed.
“I did. And I’m not little anymore!” This was supposed to convince them. It was supposed to work.
He sighed, then looked around at the other brothers. They’d all touched the arrow now, and met his gaze with heavy stares.
“The arrow isn’t from here. And there have been no trade expeditions in months,” Bradan said.
“And Andrasta wouldn’t keep something like that secret for more than a few minutes.”
She scowled at Caedmon, who shrugged at her.
“Ah, gods, you and your little weapon.” Bradan groaned.
“It’s not just a little weapon!”
“No, no longer. If this”—he raised the arrow—“is what it appears to be, you’ve brought the god of war down upon your head.”
“He said I was skilled.”
“You are skilled,” Marrek said. He smiled at her.
Warmth filled her chest. She could always count on him to be there for her.
“Too skilled for your own good. This is what we get for leaving you to your antics.” Caedmon dragged a hand down his face, leaving a weary expression in its wake.
“Antics? I’m a warrior!” She barely resisted surging to her feet.
“What you are is a menace. All fire and action, but little sense. Always charging forward, not thinking of the consequences or the danger. And you’ve caught the attention of the warrior to end all warriors, if this arrow is what it appears to be.”
“But why?” Marrek asked, concern tightening his brow.
Bradan dropped his head into his hand. “If Camulos is indeed using the bow as a weapon of war, and our little sister has actually become that skilled…” He cursed vilely. “The old stories tell of the gods coming to earth long ago. Hafgan, one of the kings of Otherworld, is said to have once been mortal. He was so skilled with a pike, his weapon of choice, that he defeated the former king of the gods and rose in his stead. He pulled the ladder up behind him, and the gods have been determined to see that no other mortal usurps their power. If Camulos is indeed interested in Andrasta, that’s why he’s here.”
“What?” Fear slithered across her skin; she gripped her bow. So there was a real reason for him to kill her? He hadn’t been sent by another, but by himself?
“And they always kill the mortal. It’s their law,” Caedmon said.
Camulos was resisting killing her. He had to be. For how long could he resist? “What happens if he doesn’t kill me?”
Bradan shrugged. “The gods would probably kill him. I don’t know. But there’s nothing to stay his hand. You’re at risk. You can’t go to the clearing anymore to practice. He could be there.”