The guard removed his hood, then raised his long, curved sword gripped in both hands. I gasped, recognizing his face at once. He stepped between me and the king who finally found his voice. “Gollaya.” “Hello, Father.” His deep timbre was steady and sure and deadly. “Vayla was right.” Then he swung his sword with swift precision and force, slicing through the throat of King Xakiel. Blue blood sprayed, and courtiers screamed, but I stood there in shock, watching the king’s head topple to the stone floor.
