(aka: Born To Die)
The forest around her was still, holding its breath as she lined up her shot, the tree standing strong and silent before her. She inhaled deeply, her senses sharpening—the crisp scent of pine, the gentle rustle of leaves, the distant call of a bird. She drew back the string, focusing intently, when—
“Eloise Bridgerton.”
Eloise cursed under her breath as her arrow flew through the air, a flash of wood and feathers, before piercing the bark of her intended target.
The forest seemed to exhale around her.
“Go on, then,” she said, turning to face her brother. “Chastise me.”