Oriana's face burned at his remark, yet she simply stared at the arrow lodged in the soil, almost as if what had just happened was impossible.
She knew herself.
She did not miss shots.
In fact, when she missed, she usually did it deliberately. And so far, this had been the most focused she had ever been. She had mastered archery so well that she could, no kidding—do it with her eyes closed.
So what had just happened?
She tried to make sense of the situation, but something inside her refused to give up. She did not want to see that teasing mockery on his face again.
Without another word, she lifted the bow and took another arrow.
Across from her, Zaroth watched with piqued interest. His lips slowly curved into a smirk as his sharp gaze lingered on her.
He was enjoying this far too much.
Perhaps he was enjoying her great failure in this… because he indeed was.
Oriana positioned the arrow, turning it softly, almost as if testing that it was set properly. She adjusted her stance with quiet precision. She looked like a warrior queen.
Her elegance shone through every movement. No wonder she was fit for the title of queen—she alone seemed to embody it even before the title itself was spoken.
Her fingers steadied on the bow as her emerald eyes fixed briefly on the bull's-eye.
Then she pulled the string.
The arrow flew straight toward the target, cutting through the air with certainty. It seemed certain that it would reach.
Oriana's lips curved into a smile as she watched it move toward the bull's-eye.
She turned toward Zaroth, her lips shifting into a smug smile as she folded her arms lightly against her chest, almost as if silently asking what he had to say now.
But his gaze was not on her.
It was on the arrow.
Oriana raised a brow and turned back.
Her face fell instantly.
The smug smile disappeared as shock threaded through her.
There, beside the first arrow, stood the second one.
Unlike the first, which had struck the soil awkwardly, this one stood tall, buried firmly in the ground beside it, as if it had accomplished something worthy.
Shame wrapped slowly around Oriana's skin like an unwanted blanket—not because of the failure itself, but because she had concluded the matter far too quickly, far sooner than she should have.
Not to mention the smile she had given him.
'Oh heavens, save me,' she muttered inwardly.
She could not even bring herself to look at him anymore.
"It is not wrong to accept failure, my queen. After all, many are simply not meant to succeed." Zaroth's words were cold, carrying a teasing edge that was impossible to miss.
Oriana's heart thudded heavily in her chest. Her hands tightened around the bow far more than they ever had before as she heard his footsteps approaching.
Without turning to face him, she moved into position again.
She reached for the last arrow.
She could easily tell that this man was enjoying her failure. She wanted to prove him wrong. She did not even know why the world had chosen today of all days not to be on her side—after she had bragged about how perfect she was. And now, in return, she was doing the complete opposite.
She adjusted her stance before returning to position.
Her fingers moved to the string.
But then her body froze.
She felt him behind her.
Her hands shook slightly as a shiver ran down her spine when his hands brushed against hers, steadying her movement.
His fingers moved gently beneath her chin, lifting it slightly higher.
His touch burned through her like a forbidden flame.
She could smell his masculine scent, warm and faintly sweet, drifting into her senses like a spellbound attraction. Oriana swallowed softly, trying to regain a little control over herself.
"I assure you, with this adjustment you just made, I would certainly miss," she said firmly.
He said nothing, just giving a low hum, as if acknowledging her.
'Suit yourself.' That was what the hum almost sounded like.
She released the arrow.
The arrow flew straight ahead.
'Please miss, miss, miss,' Oriana pleaded inwardly, silently praying that the arrow would miss. For once, she did not want to be right.
And as if the earth had finally heard her prayer..
Thup.
The arrow landed directly in the bull's-eye.
As if the earth had heard her prayer… and decided to punish her for praying for the wrong thing.
Oriana's breath caught in her throat, the air suddenly feeling thin as her throat turned dry at the cruel irony of the situation. Embarrassment washed over her so strongly that the only thing she could bring herself to look at was the grass beneath her feet.
She stared at the blades swaying gently in the breeze, their brown tips brushing against one another in quiet whispers.
Slowly, her gaze lifted to the arrow on the archery.
Then to the bull's-eye.
Then back again.
As if something about the entire situation was simply wrong.
Her lips parted slightly, ready to speak—perhaps to confirm that she was not imagining things—but before she could say anything, a guard arrived once more.
His armor clinked softly as he approached, his head lowered in respect.
"Your Majesty, there are urgent matters that need to be attended to in your estate."
Oriana turned her head.
Just as usual.
Again, the news and reports were not for her but for the king.
She slowly picked up another arrow, the smooth wood cool beneath her fingers as she prepared herself to try one more time.
Zaroth turned toward the guard before shifting his gaze back to her. His blood-red eyes were calm now; the teasing tilt that had once lingered in them was gone—a fact Oriana was quietly grateful for.
"Queen, I will be taking my leave now," he said smoothly. "I will return perhaps in the evening, and we can catch up from where we left off."
Oriana nodded slowly, her gaze lingering on him.
She did not quite know why, but there was a certain powerful aura that seemed to radiate from him—something ancient and overwhelming that made him feel almost inhuman.
She did not even know what to say.
Her face was still faintly flushed.
Zaroth turned and began walking toward the exit, posture perfect and graceful in the most arrogantly ethereal way. Oriana shifted her gaze back to the bull's-eye as she lifted the bow again, preparing to try once more.
But as if an intrusive thought suddenly seized her—
She turned toward Zaroth.
WHOOSH.
She released the arrow.
Straight toward him.