Saoirse
"You’ll get to meet new people," my father said, standing behind me as I gripped the bow tighter. His tone was too soft for a man who’d raised a rogue.
We were in the private game room—his favorite little sanctuary filled with polished weapons and dark wood panels, like a king’s armory hidden inside a palace of secrets. But even here, I still felt hunted.
I didn’t look at him. Just stared down the line at the bullseye like it owed me blood.
"What new people?" I muttered, raising the bow and pulling the string back until my arm trembled with the pressure.
"You’ve been here nearly a month now," he said, voice low, "and you’ve mastered more than most warriors do in a year. Combat, stealth, archery… Saoirse, you’re ready."
I released the arrow. It sliced the air and thudded dead
