Everyone watched with bated breath as Damian stepped up to the mark.
Eilika moved a few paces away, her heart still racing from her own performance. She knew Damian was a seasoned archer, a man who had likely spent more hours on the training grounds than in the ballroom. She fully expected him to pierce the bullseye with every single shot.
Damian took his position with a predatory grace. He canted the bow at a slight angle and twisted his fingers at the arrow's nock, a specific, high-level technique passed down by the kingdom's finest masters. It was a stance of full control.
He released the first string. The arrow hissed through the air and struck with such pinpoint accuracy that it tore right through the shaft of Eilika's first bullseye.
On the higher podium, the noblewomen erupted into a polite yet enthusiastic round of applause. Damian turned his head slightly at the sound, his gaze lingering briefly on his mother's friends before he looked back to the target.
