If you happen to be out by the stables, you might see a red-haired girl riding a huge black stallion around the grounds. There's a bow held firmly in her left hand, a quiver-full of arrows on her back, and a steely look in her eyes. The arrows arc at regular intervals from her bow to the targets, with speed and accuracy that belies the shooter's age. It's not praise she's looking for, though she wouldn't mind a compliment or two.

It's been five hours since her mother explained that she must be betrothed, and she's going to eke every moment of freedom from the next few days as she can.