Heath shook his head slightly, his forehead creased. Perhaps Percival was right, and his eyesight was a gift of dragon magic. He wasn’t going to say so, but he was pretty sure he could have hit the target more accurately than the second competitor, even if he was shooting from the stands.
He was expecting the victor to be announced, but the herald instead stepped up, waving his arms for silence. The noise of the crowd fell to an expectant hum.
“We have our champion,” he began, and the crowd roared again. He held up a hand, waiting impatiently for the noise to drop before continuing. “But there is one final challenge.” He turned to the victor. “You have already earned the title, but do you wish to try your hand at the last round?”
The archer looked surprised, but he shrugged, giving a little laugh. “Why not?”
The crowd cheered for him, and he grinned back at them, acknowledging their approval with a wave of his arm. He was led back to the target, which was still placed at its greatest distance from the shooting mark.
The competitor gripped his bow, evidently waiting for the target to be moved again. But instead, a page boy came jogging out from between the stands, carrying a thick length of black material.
“For this challenge,” announced the herald importantly, “you will be blindfolded!”
The archer’s look of surprise quickly gave way to another laugh, and the crowd laughed with him. It was just the sort of spectacle they loved. Heath watched with interest as the man was given a moment to take note of the location of the target, before the blindfold was attached firmly around his eyes. Then, for good measure, he was spun around several times, until he was staggering a little. The crowd laughed even harder, clapping with delight.
The man spinning the competitor made sure to face him in the right general direction for the target, meaning that his back was once again to Heath. But Heath could still see him wobbling slightly as he raised his bow. He paused for a moment, then let the arrow fly. The range was good, but the aim was way off, the shaft passing considerably to the left of the target.
The man pulled the blindfold off to see the result, shrugging with good-natured defeat as the people cheered for him anyway. Heath clapped along with everyone as the shield of victory was brought out and presented to the man. He had several just like it at home.
“You know what that final challenge was,” said Percival from beside Heath, his tone alight with sudden realization. “It was for you.”
“What do you mean?” Heath asked with a frown, his eyes still on the ceremony.
“They said you could compete, so they assumed you would. They claim not to think your eyesight is magic, but they set up that final challenge just in case. Because your eyesight couldn’t win that shot for you. They must have wanted to prove that you’re not perfect—that you can miss, just like anyone and everyone would miss that shot.”
Heath’s frown deepened. “I’m sure it had nothing to do with me. They knew I wasn’t competing, and they included it anyway.”
Percival shrugged. “I’m not saying it wasn’t a good spectacle anyway. Just that I would wager you were in their minds when they introduced it.”
Heath shook his head, not convinced. With so many people around them, Percival didn’t push the point.
With the archery finished, and the jousting final not taking place until the afternoon, the crowd began to drift away. Heath and Percival stood, but made no immediate move to leave, chatting instead with the others in the stand with them. Percival shared his supposed revelation with the twins, and Brody was quick to agree. Heath rolled his eyes. Whether his cousin actually shared Percival’s view was doubtful. He just loved to stir up trouble.
When the stand around them had emptied, Brody turned to Heath with a grin, as if determined to prove Heath’s thoughts about him true.
“Well, go on then. Have a go.”
“A go at what?” Heath asked blankly.
Percival shot him a disapproving look. “Don’t play dumb, Heath. Have a go at the target.”
Bianca gave a faint sigh. “Here we go.”
Heath looked between his brother and cousins, and the target still set up on the grass. “Don’t be silly,” he said, without much conviction. “I’m not competing.”
“Of course you’re not competing,” said Percival tartly. “The competition is well and truly over. But don’t try to convince me that you’re not itching to try your hand at it.”
Heath hesitated. He had been surprised at how difficult he’d found it to sit out and watch. He glanced around at the empty stands. Not a spectator was in sight anymore, everyone clearly having moved on to their luncheon. Where was the harm in just having a try? As Percival said, the competition was well and truly over. And he hadn’t even been banned from competing, anyway.
“Oh, all right,” he said, grinning in spite of himself as Brody let out a whoop. He saw a troubled crease appear on Bianca’s brow, but he didn’t stop to ask what she thought.
The four of them hurried down from the stands, and Heath selected one of the practice bows from a nearby weapons stand. He flexed it with a slight frown. It wasn’t as good as having his own, familiar bow, but it would do.
“Well then, have a few practice shots,” Percival urged, grinning slightly. Heath stepped up to the mark, narrowing his eyes as he took in the target, still set at its final distance. He took one of the arrows Percival was holding out and placed it against the string. His fingers seemed to hum from the tension of the string, and he felt his heart lift a little. It had been too long since he’d engaged in his favorite sport.
Heath drew a deep breath, releasing the air as he released the arrow. It whizzed across the arena, burying itself in the second ring of the target.
“Ehh,” said Brody, the grin clear in his voice. “Not quite up to your usual standard, cuz.”