Divorce The Duke, Marry The King!
Chapter 58: Manage to hit me

Chapter 58: Manage to hit me

Back at the training ground, Belle was growing increasingly frustrated. Twenty minutes had passed, and despite her efforts, her shots either narrowly missed the target or veered entirely off course. Her patience was wearing thin, but she refused to show it.

"Tired?" Quinn asked, his tone casual.

She shook her head stubbornly. "Give me more minutes," she requested, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing her give up. She was determined to hit the target, even if it drained every ounce of her energy.

Quinn wasn’t in any rush. Watching her struggle was oddly entertaining, and just seeing her fiery determination was enough to amuse him for the entire day. Teasing her felt unnecessary...for now.

As she prepared another shot, Belle lost her footing. With a startled squeak, she stumbled forward. "Ahh!" she gasped, bracing for a fall when Quinn swiftly intervened, catching her mid-fall and pulling her away from her original position.

"Why didn’t you just drop the bow?" He asked, genuinely curious why she hadn’t let go to save herself from falling. If she had released it, she might have been able to regain her balance.

"A good archer never abandons their bow and arrow," she replied, freeing herself from his grasp and taking steps back. "The opponent can use any single opportunity to strike."

Quinn had to suppress a laugh. Her conviction was admirable, but at this stage, it was utterly useless. She couldn’t even hit a stationary target, so how was clinging to the bow going to help her in battle?

"You are both fools, whoever told you that, and you for believing it," he remarked, shaking his head.

Belle glared at him, her annoyance flaring. Without hesitation, she raised her bow and arrow, pointing it directly at his chest. "Really?" She challenged, her gaze sharp and unyielding.

"Try it," Quinn said, stepping closer with a smirk. "If you manage to hit me, I will grant you a wish, anything, except me giving up on you."

Her eyebrows furrowed at his words. "You are not going to take that back, are you?" She asked, her tone suspicious.

"No," he answered confidently, which brought a devilish smile to her face.

She readied her arrow, aiming it at his chest. With a deep breath, she counted to three and released.

The arrow flew—and missed.

"Oops," Quinn said mockingly, feigning sympathy as he retrieved the arrow. He walked back to her and handed it over. "Here."

"Were you really going to let me hit you?" Belle asked, taking the arrow from him with a curious expression.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation.

"Even if I could have hurt you?" She pressed, narrowing her eyes.

"Yes," he repeated firmly, though she didn’t believe him for a second. Scoffing, she turned and walked back to her usual spot.

"Your stance is too weak," Quinn said, coming up behind her again. "You are holding back. You can’t hesitate when you shoot an arrow."

Belle mouthed an understanding "oh" as he took her hands in his. Together, they drew the bow and released the arrow in unison.

"It hit!" She exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise. Spinning around to face him, she paused, cleared her throat, and quickly looked away to conceal her excitement. Without a word, she raised her bow again, aiming for another shot.

"Now try it," Quinn instructed, his tone steady. Belle took a deep breath, raised her bow, and focused.

"One, two, three..." On the count of three, she released the arrow and immediately shut her eyes, too nervous to see the result.

"You did it," Quinn announced, and her eyes flew open. Seeing her shot hit the target, she let out an excited scream.

"Yes!" She exclaimed, hardly able to believe she had managed to make a successful shot on her first day of training.

Quinn, however, quickly tempered her excitement. "Don’t celebrate just yet. You only managed that because I guided you. You have got a long way to go. But for today, this will suffice. Tomorrow’s training will be at night," he informed her.

Belle’s expression fell into a frown. "At night? Why?"

"You will find out. Don’t be late—right after dinner," he replied curtly, turning to leave before she could press him further. His hurried departure left her confused. Why was he in such a rush? Did something urgent come up? Then again, whatever it was, it wasn’t her concern. Even if his life was in danger, it wasn’t her problem.

Sighing, she set down the bow and arrow and prepared to leave, only to jump in fright when she turned and saw Hezekiah standing behind her.

"Oh moon! When did you arrive, Your Majesty?" She asked with a nervous chuckle, stepping closer to him.

"Just now. Where is your trainer?" He asked, glancing around.

"He left in a hurry. I have no idea what came up," she replied, still puzzled. Hezekiah merely smiled and gestured to one of the guards, who stepped forward holding a box.

Taking the box, Hezekiah handed it to Belle. She hesitated before accepting it, curiosity evident in her wide eyes. "What’s this?" She asked.

"Open it," he urged. Humming softly, she lifted the lid and gasped, her mouth falling open in shock at the sight of the exquisite blue gown inside. It was stunning. But why had he gotten it for her? She already had more than enough gowns, many of which she hadn’t even worn yet.

"Why did you get me a new gown? I already have so many," she asked, her tone more inquisitive than grateful, which made Hezekiah’s smile falter.

"Oh, you wound me, Belle," he said dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest as if heartbroken. "Is this the thanks I get?"

Belle’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. "I am sorry. It’s a beautiful gown and I love it," she said sincerely, her tone softening. "I just wondered why you went through the trouble."

Hezekiah seemed to understand her concern. "This is an invitation gown," he explained. "I didn’t purchase it. It is for the wedding of one of my youngest ministers tomorrow."

"Oh," she murmured, relieved by the explanation. But then her gaze shifted back to the archery range, a trace of worry crossing her face. "But I just started training. Can I go?"

"I am not training you to attend parties, Belle," he said firmly. "I am training you to protect yourself. What happened at the restaurant that day will never happen again, not while I am around. You are not leaving my sight, no matter what." His words carried a fierce determination that left Belle feeling both comforted and slightly overwhelmed.

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