Constantine (Daughter of War #1)

Chapter 53: Brave

Music is the theme song from The Last Of Us by Gustavo Santaolalla. Play it!

******

Yet another sleepless night. There's no moon in the sky, so I find myself groping around with my shadows.

I can't help it. I should feel something—anything. After all, Gilbert and Allura had attempted to reach out to me. Still, there's the hollowness of the shock that comes with figuring out Diomedes' identity.

Diomedes' identity. Until now, I can scarcely believe my own theory. Logic battles with emotions, a painful tug-of-war within me. As a defence mechanism, I blank myself out from the world, like I had done months ago. A wall I construct around myself to protect me—to prevent myself from getting hurt.

But strangely enough, I don't want this void inside me. I want to feel, to laugh, to cry, to rage.

I want what I'd so sorely missed for the past seventeen years of my life.

I head for the archery stands. A few shots with the bow should calm my mind. There's always the need for precision and a cold, clear head when I draw the bowstring with arrow nocked in place, aiming towards the centre of rings. There's always the undeniable rush that comes with releasing the arrow, feeling it locked onto the target, cutting through the wind.

Of course, I couldn't do so back in Castle Larstand, as weapons were strictly prohibited to be wielded by squires during off-training hours, but this is my land. My home. My territory. Tendrils of darkness sprawl everywhere, extending my senses along with it. I can see, feel and taste everything, all with a slight flick of my fingers.

Finally, I approach my destination. I release my hold on the shadows, opting to stumble my way about like the good old times instead. Then my spine tightens. Someone's here—there's a faint firelight flickering from within the stands.

Thunk. The solid sound of an arrowhead finding its mark reverberates through the air. I sneak my way to my destination, gently probing my shadows. Strange. I sense a female figure in the stands. Surely that can't be...

"Who's there?" the female cries out. I sense her readjusting her aim so that the arrowhead points directly at me. I freeze in my crouch. How did she manage to pinpoint my position so accurately?

However, the female's voice had betrayed her identity. "Isolde?" I call out softly. "It's me, Constantine."

I feel her lowering her bow. "Constantine? Why are you here?" she asks in a suspicious tone.

"I could say the same for you," I reply lightly, getting up from my crouch and striding towards her. The little lamp she'd brought along rests on a table, the candle placed within it half melted, pooling the bottom with wax. Something stirs inside me, a peculiar warmth that I'd last felt in Allura's room, when she'd offered me Galennus Asa's brew. Almost instinctively, I pull on it, as though I were searching inside myself.

The sensation puffs away.

I suppress a shiver at this phenomenon, focusing on the prim, yet wild look Isolde has in her eyes. Shockingly, she's not even donning a riding gown. Rather, she has shrugged on a simple workman's tunic, riding breeches, proper boots, and a woollen jacket to keep the cold at bay. If I didn't know better, that is the clothing of—

"You can stop staring," she says coldly. "It is the garb of the Hunters."

My jaw drops open. The Hunters of Lorcan. My sister is a Hunter? I know that her patron is Pst. Lorcan, but she had never been raised for a life of foraging and hunting. Pietists Above, she was supposed to be a delicate, well-mannered creature, intended to be married off to some wealthy lord.