Page 44 of Across the Stars (Cosmic Threads of Fate #1)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

MAE

Mae felt Watai’s strong arms wrap around her, steadying her as she drew back the bowstring.

Her pulse quickened as she stood before the target, nerves coiled tight. Watai’s chest pressed against her back, his arms braced around hers, guiding her stance.

She could feel the warmth of his breath against her neck, the steady rhythm of his twin hearts.

His whispered words brushed her ear—low encouragement, soft corrections. She couldn’t catch every word, but the meaning carried through, calming her nerves and sharpening her focus.

The bow felt heavier than she expected, but strength flowed into her arms as she took aim. Watai’s palms rested steady at her hips, anchoring her balance. She released—the arrow sailed true, thudding into the target with a satisfying crack.

A triumphant laugh burst from her throat. Spinning in his embrace, Mae threw her arms around his neck. He lifted her off the ground in a joyful squeeze, his laughter rumbling against her chest. Pride lit her veins.

When he set her gently down, Watai brushed a stray lock of hair from her face and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

Mae’s breath caught as he drew his own bow.

She couldn’t stop herself from admiring the sculpted lines of his body—the way muscle flexed and rippled as he pulled the string back, the way his hair streamed behind him in the breeze, and the unwavering focus in his gaze.

Every movement was confident, honed, beautiful. The sight left her breathless.

He loosed two arrows at once. They split the target, one landing on either side of hers. Pride swelled in her chest, sharp and fierce, as admiration stirred into something warmer.

From across the range, Xarntu called out, guiding Xaynu with his bow.

She flicked her hand toward the targets with casual grace, rolling her eyes.

Mae couldn’t help but notice the effortless confidence she carried.

Jealousy pricked—sharp and fleeting—before Mae shoved it aside.

She would learn. She would prove herself.

Gathering her arrows from the wall of targets, Mae traced her fingers over the smooth, strange surfaces—wood, metal, and a shimmering material she didn’t recognize.

Circles, carved patterns, elaborate designs—all crafted for precision.

Her heart thudded as she returned to her mark, memories of Oekan’s attack threatening to shake her. She breathed deep and forced calm.

This time, she had watchers. Watai’s gaze pressed warm against her back, and she refused to falter.

She closed her eyes, picturing the perfect shot. When she opened them, a quiet calm steadied her. She nocked her arrow, drew the bowstring, and released. The arrow struck dead center, vibrating with impact.

Mae’s grin stretched wide. Watai beamed at her, pride shining openly. Xarntu and Xaynu both nodded their approval, and Mae’s chest swelled at the acknowledgment.

She fired again, and again—each arrow flying truer, each strike sharper. The rhythm of it drew her in, a dance of breath and focus. Around her, she caught glimpses of respect dawning in the eyes of onlookers.

Mae straightened, chest rising with exertion, heart burning with exhilaration. She wasn’t just learning. She was proving herself—arrow by arrow, strike by strike.