Earning the Love of a Princess-Chapter 41: Inside a Golden Cage

3 October, 1358. Westerhaven Palace, Islia

Camilla squinted her eye as she focused on the target in front of her and released an arrow. The previous day’s archery tournament had stretched out long into the afternoon, but of course no ladies had been permitted to take part. Relegated to a mere spectator, Camilla had tried very hard to hide her boredom after the first hour or so. She had duly clapped when the knight carrying her favour had aimed his arrows and clapped louder still when the tournament champion had been presented with a medal and a purse of gold by King Edward.

But she couldn’t deny she was bored. Some days, being a high born lady was incredibly boring. Easy, but incredibly boring.

She wondered if she felt that way because of her unconventional upbringing. She’d never had sisters or female cousins near her age, so had grown up with her three energetic brothers and spent most of her young life in their company. They had thought her to hunt and ride and shoot arrows alongside them, to debate, read interesting books and discuss mathematical concepts. They had been very protective of her, of course. But they hadn’t talked down to her or made her feel like her gender was much of a limitation.

Of course, her life could have completely changed upon marriage, depending on how much autonomy a future husband would’ve been willing to grant her. But all she had known growing up was how to relish her relative freedom.

That had all come crashing down the day she had been brought to Islia a few months ago. Despite all the polite references to her as King Edward’s honoured guest, she was for all intents and purposes a prisoner. And as a prisoner, she knew she would have to conform and stifle her independent streak to survive here and not raise suspicion. Especially since she had no living family left to champion her.

And yet...surely there had to be some ladies here at court who were also bored with their lot. Was this all they ever aspired to? Didn’t they yearn for freedom, if only just sometimes? Camilla was well aware that Islian ladies weren’t educated or even taught to read and write. Intelligent conversation wasn’t expected and was actually seen as unnatural. Riding and hunting were discouraged if not accompanied by men. Learning to handle a weapon was absolutely unheard of.

"No wonder they all think I’m some kind of witch." she mumbled to herself, as she aimed another arrow at the target. It hit the third ring out from the bullseye, making her scowl slightly. Archery was something she was fairly good but not great at. Her brother Daniel had been quite exceptional and had spent many afternoons practicing with her. But while his skill had seemed to keep ever growing, hers had plateaued. It didn’t matter much to her though, she still enjoyed sending arrows flying.

"Your posture is out." A deep, mellow voice said to her out of nowhere.

Camilla turned around to see Prince William standing a short distance away, slumped against the tall timber fence that surrounded the archery butts.

She sighed inwardly. It would be easier to handle William treating her as if she were invisible, if that were always the case. But very occasionally he would smile or speak to her and when did, he was so devastatingly charming that Camilla found it impossible to ignore him.

He pushed his golden hair back from his eyes and walked over to her. Looking up at him, she found herself wishing, not for the first time, that he could be a little less handsome. Why was he even out here alone? Refusing to become even slightly flustered, she replied, "What do you mean, my posture is out?" 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

"Your shoulders should be squarer to your target." He looked at her as if his explanation were blatantly obvious. He then saw her irritated expression and smirked. "You don’t enjoy receiving constructive criticism, Princess?"

"No. At least not from someone who treats me like a leper most of the time and only speaks to me when he wants to land a blow."

William started laughing. "Ouch. You make me sound like a tyrant. Surely I’m not quite as bad as you say. The ladies usually seem to find me appealing enough."

"Perhaps not as many as you think." Camilla said under her breath. William obviously heard her because he laughed harder.

"Aren’t you a sweet little soul? Do you want me to help you improve your technique and aim? Or are you content with telling me what a monster I’ve been to you?" He looked like he was desperately trying to keep a straight face but he couldn’t quite wipe his amused smile.

"Fine." Camilla gritted out. "What would you suggest to improve my posture?"

"You need to twist this shoulder a little this way...may I?" His hand hovered over her but stopped just short of touching her. She nodded as he adjusted the set of her shoulders slightly. His touch was very hesitant and she wondered if he really did liken her to touching a leper.

"Line up your next shot." He was standing very close to her now, his hand on her shoulder to stop her from breaking position. He stared down towards the line of the target and his warm breath tickled her ear slightly.

Camilla positioned her bow and lined up an arrow. She felt his other hand pressing lightly on the small of her back.

"Now aim and shoot."

Camilla focused her eye on the target, ignoring the prince’s scent. He smelled warm and masculine, almost like spices mixed with fresh pine needles. She quickly pushed the distracting thought from her mind and released the bowstring, careful to maintain her posture. Her arrow hit the edge of the innermost circle. Her eyes widened.

"See? Better."

She turned to face him, still wide eyed. "If you know how to improve my aim with only a couple of minor changes, then you must be a very good archer yourself."

"Yes, I’d say I’m rather good." There was an undeniable touch of arrogance in his amused voice.

Camilla handed him the bow and then passed him an arrow. He shrugged and took them, lining up the shot. She tried not to stare at the long, beautiful fingers of his hands. She heard the arrow cut through the air and hit the target. When she looked over, she saw he’d hit the bullseye.

She said nothing and handed him a second arrow. He repeated the bullseye. After watching him land a third arrow in the dead centre of the target, something occurred to her. She aimed a sidelong glance at the prince. "You didn’t take part in yesterday’s tournament."

"No."

"But why not? You very likely would have won." Camilla couldn’t understand why he had turned down the opportunity to be the centre of attention. William struck her as the kind of young man who revelled in receiving the admiration of crowds, especially those crowds that included the fairer sex.

His smile faded. There was a trace of melancholy in his voice when he stared into the distance and said softly, "Because sometimes I don’t want to play my part as a prince of the court. Sometimes I just want to do things for my own happiness and not to be one of the court’s performing animals."

Camilla nodded. His words made sense, they were just words she never imagined would come from this particular man.

She sensed that perhaps he was a little lonely sometimes, despite him never having to be alone. Perhaps that was the hardest kind of loneliness to endure - when you’re always among the crowd. She decided not to press him further, figuring it probably wasn’t something he was comfortable talking to her about.

"How did you learn to become so good?"

"A hell of a lot of practice over the years, Princess." He smiled at her again. "That and all the motivation I received from my late father."

"Your father encouraged you to be an archer?" Camilla had always thought William had had a strained relationship with his father, but perhaps it hadn’t been as bad as she thought?

"Oh no, not at all. Quite the opposite, actually." William replied cheerfully. "My beloved father never missed the opportunity to tell me what a dismal failure I was and that I’d never become anything but the most mediocre of knights. He was widely respected for being a good archer. So I practiced and practiced from the moment I could handle a bow, until I was finally as good as him. And then I became better."

Camilla heard the hostile edge in his voice but tried to ignore it. "Surely that would’ve made him at least a little proud, though? That you showed enough tenacity to master a skill he didn’t think you could?"

"No. He hated it. And it only spurred me on harder."