Heading for the main entrance of the castle, Crow drew his cloak more tightly around his shoulders in anticipation of the icy winter air. Ever since he’d figured out that exercise helped with his nightmares, he made a point to get his heartrate up whenever he had the time. He rarely managed to escape the palace walls though, and even though it was frigid outside, he wanted to feel the sun on his face. The unpleasant weather wasn’t enough to keep him locked up indoors. Once he started moving, he knew he would warm up anyway.

The viceroy stepped outside, feeling blood rush to his cheeks as the wind bit at his exposed skin. It was colder than he’d expected, but he pressed through the discomfort and made his way to the knights’ training ground, expecting the fields to be empty while all the noblemen took refuge in their barracks or the castle. Fortunately, his guess had been right. All of their equipment had been protectively covered and left beneath a thin sheet of snow. He could hear the sound of voices in the distance, coming from the closest barracks, but the rest of the area was silent. It was just what he’d been hoping for.

Stepping over to the weapons, he lifted the animal skin cover off the archery supplies and picked up a bow and quiver. It had been quite a while since he’d last practiced with the long range weapon, so it was about time for him to brush up on his skills. He shouldered the collection of arrows, shivering slightly as the cold air began to seep through his clothing, and made his way over to the targets that had been set up. A thin sheet of snow covered each one, so he took some time to brush it off before he backed away again to set up his bow.

Fighting to keep his hands steady, he reached over his shoulder to draw the first arrow and notched it against the string. His eyes were fixed on the target he’d picked, and his breathing slowed as he focused. Archery had become somewhat meditative to him since he’d gotten better at it. When he loosed arrows from one spot without moving around too much, it had a calming effect. However, didn’t need to calm down right now.

Cocking the bowstring back to the corner of his mouth, he only held it for half a second before he released the arrow at the target. It struck to the left of the bullseye, but instead of reloading the weapon, he took off at a sprint to the right of the target, stopped quickly, and steadied himself as he fixed a second arrow into the bow. He loosed it again and repeated the process, practicing his speed as he repositioned himself, took in the new angle, and shot at the target from different places in the field.

He kept at the routine for a while—he wasn’t sure how long—and even removed his cloak at one point when the thick fabric grew too warm to wear against his heated skin. Muscles burned from exertion, but he relished the feeling. It meant he had a chance to stave off the nightmares that plagued him during the night.

Eventually, he became too tired to continue, and he sat down in the frozen grass, watching his breath cloud in front of his nose as he panted. The sun had sunk close to the horizon, and the training grounds were getting dark. He was just beginning to wonder if he had time to visit the bath house before supper when a voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Collin?”

The viceroy twisted at the waist to see that someone was approaching him from behind. He stared for a moment, struggling to distinguish the man’s face in the darkness, until he realized it was Percival. The knight was fully dressed in his armor and was resting a hand loosely against the hilt of his sword.

“Oh, hey,” Crow greeted him breathily, still breathing heavily after his archery session. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just going to ask you the same thing,” Percival frowned.

“Yeah? Well, I asked you first,” Crow smirked at him cheekily. He didn’t get along with most nobles in the inner kingdom, but the knight had grown on him more than anyone else he’d met, aside from his own sister. Percival had shown some empathy toward the people of the outer villages when they’d talked about the war weeks ago, and he seemed to be the only noblemen among the viceroy’s “friends” who wasn’t trying to get anything from him. He still didn’t trust the man as much as Naida or Preston, but he had softened enough to be friendly.

Percival eyed him for a moment longer before he answered, “I was on my way back to the barracks after a guard shift. Your turn.”

“Practicing,” Crow said taciturnly, gesturing at the bow he’d left on the ground by his side.

“Hm,” the knight grunted, glancing between the weapon and the targets that had been littered with arrows. “In this weather?”

“I like a challenge,” the former thief shrugged, climbing to his feet and brushing the ice off the backside of his trousers. “It’s harder to aim when you’re shivering, and it’s harder to pull back the string when your fingers are numb.”

“Easier to catch a cold though,” Percy pointed out.

“Touché,” Crow conceded with a grin. “Anyway, I’m done now. Supper will be served soon. Are you hungry?”

The knight nodded, “I was going to take off my armor before I go to the Great Hall.”

“Great. Maybe I’ll see you there,” the viceroy turned away from him to put his cloak back on and collect his arrows.

Percival was quiet again for a moment before he strode over to one of the targets and began pulling arrows free from the wood. Crow casted him a quizzical look, and he lifted his broad shoulders, “I’ll help. [i]My[/i] hands aren’t numb.”

Crow blinked and looked down at his own hands, which had lost feeling to the cold a while ago. It would have taken him a lot longer to retrieve all the arrows by himself in his current state. “Thanks,” he said gratefully, resuming his collection.

The reticent knight grunted again, and the two lapsed into silence as they gathered the projectiles to be put away with the rest of the weapons.