" Where have you been, Milo?” I asked quietly. “It’s been three days.”
“Working for Jason,” Milo replied, his voice low.
I frowned, setting the arrow to the bow. Anyone watching us would think I was the world’s most cautious shot. “Doing what?” My muscles strained as I pulled the bowstring back.
“Protecting you.”
The bowstring released with a loud twang, and the arrow arced through the air, barely grazing the top of the target before falling to the earth beyond it. A few of the men practicing with javelins saw my miss and called out that I’d find a spindle easier to manage than a bow. I snatched up a second arrow and buried it fletch-deep in the core of the target. The jeering stopped. Only then did I return my attention to Milo.
“That makes no sense,” I muttered. “In the first place, what protection do I need? And since when does Jason care about anyone’s skin but his own?”
“There may be more to Jason than you think,” Milo said softly. "

― Esther M. Friesner , Nobody's Prize (Nobody's Princess, #2)