Page 31 of The Last De Loughrey Dynasty (The Legacy of Aquila Hall #1)
CHAPTER THIRTY
DOROTHEE
The days were passing by faster than I might have wished. I loved how quickly detention was over and how, with each passing day, we came closer to Yule and read about what happened next in Dottie’s life. But, in the same breath, I hated how fast time was passing. There had been no new clue or riddle, and I hadn’t seen Gwyneth since the night she let me into her memories to reveal the place where the diary had been hidden. Each day passing meant a day closer to the Ball of Aquila on the seventh of July.
I had tried to reveal the hidden words on the pages with drops of my blood, but the pages had swallowed each drop as soon as it hit the paper. Trying was nothing more than a waste of time, and the only thing we could do was wait for Yule, which was, of course, during the holidays, and research Hecate and the festival of the stars, plus keep a close eye on Professor Kane.
We couldn't do more at the moment, and it was getting frustrating.
The holidays were creeping closer as well, and the thought of returning home made my stomach twist. My mother had texted me that my father would be attending this year’s Christmas dinner at my aunt’s house, which meant for me that the twenty-minute drive that I couldn’t avoid would be filled with bickering and scoffs at one another. I also didn’t fancy seeing Bethany and her other cousins again. When my mother told her Aunt Liana that I had been accepted at Aquila Hall, a school for children like me, Bethany mocked me and called me names as to why I had to be sent across the country to a 'special' school in front of her friends.
Back then, I had shut my mouth, kept silent because I believed that speaking was the worst thing someone like me could possibly do, and every time I opened my mouth my mother repeated the story of The Boy Who Cried Wolf . I hated the story more than the silent treatment she gave me when I cried or annoyed her as a child.
“And just like the boy, someday when a thief breaks into the house, no one will believe you, Dorothee.”
“But Mummy, please, there is a man hanging from the ceiling in my room, and I’m so scared, please make him go away!”
It was the first time a spirit had shown itself in the form in which it had died. It was also the first time my mother called a psychologist because she was afraid of her own daughter.
Such happy childhood memories.
“Your turn, Miss De Loughrey,” Mrs Albury called out, waving me to the front of the queue at the target.
Samuel moved to make way for me, with his head bowed, since the arrow he just shot was sticking in the tree beside the target. He was a few years younger than me, and it was kinda sad to see his disappointment every archery lesson.
I took my bow, which I had hung over my arm like a backpack–which had won me a judging look from Nathaniel, who had his own safely secured in his bow sling. Apparently, I wasn’t professional enough for Mister Perfect, but hey, at least I managed to hit the target… nothing more, I just managed to hit it. It was definitely a goal. Archery looks so easy, and I thought it was until I first shot an arrow and almost took my eye out with it.
Taking an arrow, I positioned it on my bow and closed one eye to focus fully on the target. I balanced until I was sure that my aim was perfect before I let go and shot the arrow.
My aim wasn’t perfect, far from it, actually. The arrow had hit the bullseye in the second white ring. Archery was damn frustrating. I should have listened to Maisie and chosen badminton.
“You’re getting better,” Mrs Albury said with an encouraging smile, and though I appreciated the thought, her words weren’t helping. She was lazy at explaining, and I heard the older students mention that it was easier to try and tame a lion than learn anything from Mrs Albury. The only thing I could be happy about was that the sports weren’t graded. They’re only good for the students’ physical and mental well-being, to get them out of their rooms if it isn’t for class.
I moved to the others who had already been on their turn before me and were now training on the bullseyes near the garden.
“You have to focus on a single point instead of the whole target you’re going for,” Nathaniel said after he was done showing Mrs Albury how he was able to hit the bullseye without much effort.
“I’m doing exactly that,” I sighed, aiming the arrow at the unused target before I shot, and the arrow hit barely the edge before falling to the ground.
Nathaniel eyed me, and I stared back. “What?”
“You’re doing everything but focusing on one point, Doe. Besides, you’re holding your bow so tightly that I’m surprised it hasn’t snapped yet. Hold it lazily, relax.”
“Last time I tried that, the string almost snapped me in the face, and sorry to disappoint you, but I like my eye.”
He shook his head, almost tired, before he drew his bow from his back and grabbed an arrow, drawing it back in a slow and gentle gesture. “Look how I’m handling the bowstring. I’m aware of its strength, but I’m handling it slowly. You’re fast, sloppy and tense,” he explained. “One point. Imagine it like a dot you’re seeing in the middle of the target. When you’re aiming, you’re unsure where to point at, almost shaking. But you have to be sure of what you want.” Nathaniel let go of the arrow, and it hit the bullseye with perfection. Lowering his bow, the corners of his mouth twitched to a slight smile. “Now, it’s your turn.” He made way for me, and I sighed dramatically before grabbing an arrow and lifting my bow.
“This won’t work. I’ve been trying for weeks, and it’s like the arrow is working against me.”
“You’re spending too much time with Jesse. His dramatic being rubs off on you.”
I shot him a look. “Don’t call him dramatic.”
Nathaniel just shrugged, moving towards the target to pluck out the arrow. “Don’t give me that look. Jesse is my brother in everything but blood, but you can’t deny that he loves to show off his dramatic side.”
“Yeah, I mean, he is, but to his defence, he’s been in theatre class since he was twelve. You have to be overly dramatic to succeed.”
Nathaniel nodded and pointed towards the target. “Aim, as I told you.” He stopped beside me, eyeing me closely. “While we’re mentioning it, there’s a theatre performance the day before the holidays. Most parents arrive a little sooner to watch the play with their children. I want you to come too.”
I lowered my bow and crooked an eyebrow in confusion. Nathaniel noticed and explained, “they’re performing A Midsummer Night’s Dream by Shakespeare, and Jesse got one of the leading roles.”
“Jesse didn’t tell me, that’s amazing!” I smiled at how far my friend had made it. I knew how much he loved theatre, and he deserved that role.
“I know, he didn’t tell any of us. Naomi did. She’s helping with the costumes behind the scenes.”
“Why didn’t he tell us? He should be proud.”
“He should be, yeah, but his parents aren’t coming, and neither are his siblings. He’ll be picked up by a carrier at the end of the day as usual. Jesse’s sad, but he wouldn’t show it for the death of him. So, I want all of us to come and support him, to make this day at least slightly more enjoyable for our friend.”
I grinned up at him, “aww, that’s actually so adorable of you.”
Without flexing a muscle in his face, Nathaniel gazed at me. “Don’t make that sound directed towards me ever again. Are you coming or not?”
I slapped his arm playfully at the first comment, “of course I’m coming. Shakespeare was always my favourite writer in theatre anyway.”
“I prefer Oscar Wilde, but everyone’s taste is different,” he muttered as something wet hit my cheek, and I looked up to grey clouds crying down at us. “I guess that’s it for today,” I mumbled, but the boy next to me shook his head.
“Archers in the eighteenth century couldn’t just decline going for a hunt because it started raining. So a few drops of water won’t stop you either.”
Adjusting my bow again, I peeled my upper lip back and side-eyed him. “You should consider becoming a motivational coach.”
“Too bad I hate people,” he replied and watched my every move. I gently pulled the bowstring back, mimicking his method, waited until the head of my arrow no longer shook, and then firmly placed it against the wood of my bow. “Don’t try to balance through your arms and shoulders. The perfect aim starts with the position of your feet and legs; that’s where you pull your strength from,” Nathaniel said, and from the corner of my eye, I noticed how the other students started to leave as the rain began to pour down stronger.
I adjusted my position and pulled my strength from the balance I had just gained, focusing on the middle of the bullseye. My arm started to scream from how long I pulled on the bowstring, but I waited until I was sure where my arrow would land. Then I let go.
My arrow hit the target only a few millimetres away from the middle. “I almost did it!” I yelped in surprise.
Suddenly, I didn’t care that my hair was now drenched in cold water and how the freezing wind felt against my wet clothes because I finally did it.
“Not almost. You did it. If your target were human, you would have pierced his heart either way. One or two millimetres won’t save him,” he disagreed, pulling my arrow out of the target, and I snorted, “you’re getting psychotic again, Nathaniel.”
At that, he cracked a smile, “sure am.”