Chapter 61
Adrian stared at her for several seconds as though he had not quite understood what she had asked.
The astonishment written across his face might have been amusing under different circumstances, but Cassandra remained entirely serious. She had spent far too long allowing other people to determine what she could and could not do. She had no intention of letting his surprise make her question the decision she had already made.
"You want to learn how to shoot a pistol?" He searched her expression, perhaps expecting to find some indication that she had been jesting. When he found none, he slowly set aside the letter in his hand. "I don’t believe you’ve ever shown the slightest interest in firearms."
"You’re right. I haven’t but I would like to learn now if you will teach me."
That answer seemed to perplex him further, yet he did not question her.
Perhaps because he was simply relieved to have something else to occupy his thoughts for a while.
The gun room was in another section of the palace, a chamber lined with cabinets and racks. Cassandra’s attention immediately swept across the collection.
Pistols of different sizes and designs filled the cases. Long hunting rifles rested securely against the walls, alongside military firearms that possessed none of the elegance of the finely crafted pistols displayed elsewhere.
Every weapon appeared to have been meticulously cared for.
Adrian caught her look of awe as she took in the impressive display.
"Most of these belong to Father." He explained since it was her first time being there.
Cassandra turned toward him, eyes bright with excitement. "I thought they might."
"He has been collecting them for years. Some came from his travels, others were gifts, and more than a few were apparently from his time in the army."
A faint smile tugged at Cassandra’s mouth. "That sounds like him."
Adrian approached one of the cabinets and selected a pistol, examined it before placing it in her hands. He showed her how to hold it and how to keep her arm steady when aiming to fire.
Cassandra listened intently, absorbing every instruction and correction.
She could concede that she was inexperienced and knew very little, but everyone had to start somewhere.
They eventually made their way to a secluded section of the palace grounds where several targets had been arranged for practice. The morning air was cool, and beyond the range came the distant sounds of servants attending their daily duties.
Adrian demonstrated first with his pistol.
Cassandra studied every one of his movement, watching the position of his feet, the angle of his arm and the way he handled the weapon before firing.
The sound was deafening, sending a flock of birds scattering from somewhere beyond the trees.
Then he handed the weapon to her. The weight settled heavily against her palm.
Cassandra adjusted her grip and raised the pistol toward the target.
She knew what was supposed to happen when she pulled the trigger. She had seen men fire before and had seen the weapon recoil in their hands.
But knowing it in theory was one thing but actually practicing was another matter entirely.
The force of the recoil caught her off guard. Her arm jerked violently, her shoulder shifted backward and the shot struck nowhere close to the centre of the target.
For a moment, Cassandra merely stared at it in disbelief, then a nervous laugh escaped her.
The corner of Adrian’s mouth curved into a smile.
"I warned you." He smirked playfully. "Perhaps you should listen more carefully."
Cassandra shot him an unimpressed look before raising the pistol again.
The second shot was somehow even worse. The third was no better.
The fourth was so bad, it sent Adrian into a fit of laughter.
Cheeks heating, Cassandra waved the pistol threatening at him. "I thought you would have the good sense not to mock someone who is currently armed but you prove me wrong."
"I would be more frightened if you could hit a target. Your performance here showed me I have little to worry about on that front." He grinned, as playfully with her as ever.
Cassandra glared but it was hardly enough to conceal her flush. His taunts weren’t mean-spirited and ignoring them was the best she could do.
Turning, she raised the pistol just as he taught her and fired out a few more rounds.
There was something strangely gratifying about the repetition. Each mistake gave her something tangible to correct: the position of her feet, the firmness of her grip, her focus, the pressure of her finger against the trigger. Gradually, the weapon began to feel less unfamiliar in her hand.
She was nowhere near proficient, but that hardly mattered.
She had never expected to master handing a pistol in a single morning. What mattered was that she had begun.
When she lowered the weapon after another attempt, her thoughts returned to the real reason she had asked Adrian to teach her.
If she could not overpower a grown man with her bare hands, then she would not attempt to fight him that way.
She could simply shoot him
The thought brought a cold smile to her lips. Never in her life did she think she would be entertaining such a thought. She never had it in her, not until now.
Betrayal, like the one she endured, had ways of fundamentally changing a person. By the end of this, she would scarcely be able to recognize parts of herself.
By the time they finished, her hand ached from the unfamiliar strain. Despite his earlier jeers, Adrian seemed quite pleased by her determination.
They returned to the house and settled in one of the many sitting rooms, where a servant soon brought tea and a tray of pastries. Cassandra welcomed the warmth of the cup between her hands and allowed herself to sink into the chair.
Adrian waited until she had finished the contents in her cup before broaching the topic he had been most curious about.
"I heard about your return." He had not been present when she returned to find his mother sick.
Cassandra had been too preoccupied with reaching the queen to pay much attention to anyone around her, but apparently the servants had already carried news of her arrival throughout the household.
"I heard you arrived looking haggard," he continued. "And from what I was told, you looked as though you had been through hell."
Cassandra lowered her eyes. Apparently, there was little she could conceal about the state she had returned in.
Adrian’s expression grew serious. He was rarely like this with her and it felt odd even now. "You told me you were going to see your mother. What changed?"
For a moment, Cassandra considered refusing to answer.
Adrian already had enough weight on his shoulders. His mother was ill, and Cass
andra knew how deeply her condition troubled him. Burdening him with her own problems felt almost selfish.