Rodriguez sat back in his chair. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and shadows cast by a flickering candle played across his face. He did not say anything for several minutes.
Rodriguez sat back in his chair. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and shadows cast by a flickering candle played across his face. He did not say anything for several minutes.
Kyosti had no sleep that night. He had gotten home from guard duty after dark and then sat at his table, chin in his hand, nursing a drink while his mind whirred ever faster. It was a bleary-eyed but freshly-shaven archer who turned up at the palace gates as the sun rose above the line of the trees. The guards at the doors were expecting him, watching with curious eyes as he took the trail towards the queen’s courtroom.
Don’t be myself, Kyosti thought as he came under the shadow of the palace wall. Right.
He wished he could say that was the first time he had heard this advice.
Kyosti Romalidan lowered his bow slowly, the arrow still shivering in the center of the target.
“And that’s how it’s done, soldiers,” he announced.