“You think you can outmaneuver me?” “I don’t need to,” said Elma. “You’re already stumbling. Getting weaker. If you’d wanted to overpower me, you should have done it while you were straddled across my lap. You’re bleeding too much and too fast now.” “Yes,” he said, pressing his palm to the gushing wound, his cockiness undercut with desperation, “but you don’t know who I am.” “Who are you?” He bared his teeth in a cocky grin. “The man who killed the Queen of Rothen.”
