“Perfect timing, Aria,” Roar said behind him. “Watch this. You know, Perry’s known for his skill with the bow.”

Perry fired. The arrow bit into the pine with a crack.

Roar whistled. “Impressive, isn’t he? What a great shot.”

Perry spun, halfway between laughing and wanting to kill Roar.

“Can I try it?” Aria asked. “I should know how to defend myself when we get out there.”

“You should,” he agreed. Anything she learned would help them all when they ventured beyond the wall.

Perry showed her how to hold the bow and set her feet, keeping himself upwind where he could avoid her scent. When it came to nocking an arrow, it wasn’t enough for him to tell her what to do. Drawing a bow smoothly took strength and calm. Rhythm and practice. To him, it was no more difficult than breathing, but he saw right away the only way to teach her was to guide her through the motion.

He stepped behind her, bracing himself. When he inhaled, her temper shot through him, her nerves adding to his own. Then came her violet scent, drawing his focus completely to her, to the way she looked this close, just in front of him. He fumbled with how to hold the bow. Her hand was where his usually was and he didn’t want the bowstring to snap back on her.

Roar didn’t help. “You need to get closer to her, Peregrine,” he called out. “And her stance is all wrong. Turn her hips.”

“Like this?” Aria asked.

“No,” Roar said. “Perry, just do it for her.”

He was sweating by the time they got themselves set. On their first try shooting together, the arrow clattered to the cement a few feet in front of them. On the second, it landed just in front of the crate, but the bowstring grazed her forearm, raising a red welt on her skin. By the third, Perry wasn’t sure which one of them was making the bow shake.

Roar hopped to his feet. “Not your weapon, Halfy,” he said, striding over. “Look at his shoulders, Aria. Look how tall he is.” Perry shot away from her and then shifted on his feet, self-conscious at the way she sized him up. “A bow like that has a draw weight of ninety pounds or so. It’s made for small giants, like him. He’s a Seer on top of it. All the best archers are. It’s his weapon, Aria. Suited for him. For who he is.”

“It’s second nature to you, isn’t it?” she asked him.

“First. But you can learn it. I can make a bow for you. Your size,” he said, but he could see and scent that she was disappointed.

Roar slid his knife out of its sheath. “I could teach you this.”

Perry’s heart stopped cold. “Roar . . .”

Roar knew exactly what he was thinking.