Time slowed to an excruciating crawl as the rebel soldier emerged from the shadows, dagger glinting in the dim light. King Theron stood with his back turned, completely unaware of the danger hurtling toward him. My husband, weakened and supported by Sir Kaelen, couldn't possibly reach the King in time.
"Your Majesty!" I screamed, but warning alone wouldn't save him.
My body moved before my mind could process what I was doing. Three paces to my right lay a fallen soldier, his crossbow still clutched in lifeless hands. I lunged for it, my fingers closing around the unfamiliar weapon.
Alaric's training sessions flashed through my memory—his patient instructions as I'd fumbled with this very weapon, my awkward attempts at aiming, his gentle corrections. "Center your target," his voice echoed in my head. "Breathe out as you release."
