Darcy had become absent more and more frequently as the summer wore to a close and Angelica for one had no idea where he was going. So today she followed her brother. To the marketplace. The bustling, busy place where it was so crowded that she had to stay close to Darcy. So when he turned...

"Angelica!" He roughly grabbed her arm and pulled her off the busy street. "What are you doing here?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"I could ask the same." Her outburst caused a man to stare at the tall girl and he only carried on at Darcy's growl.

"It is not saf-"

"Hey!" The word was more drawn out then Angelica had ever heard. "Wait."

Darcy wheeled on the young man and gave a short shake of the head. The sizzling look he got was the end of his conversation with Darcy as his eyes hit Angelica. He clicked his tongue and a smile played across his face. A hand protruded toward the girl, three dazzling rings playing in the sun. When she placed her hand in his, the young man raised it to his lips. "Richard," he introduced. Tenderly he kissed her knuckles and though his eyes never left hers, she found herself looking at her frowning brother. "And I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

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The whiz of an arrow in his ear breaks Zacary out of his daydream. Instead of immediately searching for the archer he foolishly grins at a staring maid. When he flips his dark hair away from his eyes she blushes madly and scurries away. He gives a half-mischievous smile, biting the corner of his mouth as he thinks about how handsome  she must think he is. A second arrow lands in the dirt half a centimeter away from the toe of his new black boots. He sighs and picks it up. Fingering th soft blue of its feathers, he scowls. A laugh calls up through the courtyard.

Zacary stands to greet the young Earl of Leeland as he jogs over. 

   "Nice shot, aye?" He raises his eyebrows a tad.

   "You could have hit my foot," Zacary reminds, slapping the arrow into his brother's hand.

   "Oh, such a precious foot! I wouldn't have had to if you only paid attention to the first three."

   "Maybe you should take your target practice elsewhere."

Zacary was fed up with his brother. As the favoured older one of the two brothers, Brooks Holden got everything Zacary wanted. Zacary wanted the adventure; Brooks went off to battle and returned a decorated hero. Zacary wanted an earldom and worked noon to night, training and preparing himself; Brooks was declared Earl of the small Leeland as an eighteenth birthday present. Zacary flirted; the eligible young ladies fawned at Brooks' every step.

    "Zac, perhaps you should go elsewhere to daydream."

But Zacary didn't feel like letting his older brother boss him around. "I always come here." He recalls the second part of his brother's heed. "And I am not a dreamer."

Brooks laughs and slaps his brother on the back. Zacary's bones rattle from the vibe of Brooks' muscle and he grimaces. "One day, you will be worthy of your dreams, brother. Until that day, you may want to keep them indoors and away from my target."

With his younger brother looking, Brooks placed a perfect shot into his target bale of hay. Zacary pondered Brooks' words, twisting them into an alternative meaning, as he dawdled getting inside. There was a single way that Brooks could have meant that kindly. Tossing a glance over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of his golden haired brother greeting a young woman with a wave. It was all he could bear so he stomped down the hall, hating his brother all the more.

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