He opened his mouth to speak when a whistle sounded in the wind. Balorn fell backwards, tumbling into the leaves, an arrow protruding from his throat. Rua gaped at the arrow tied with crimson fletching. Tilting her head uphill, she saw the archer clad in shining black leathers, bow still held aloft, a golden circlet holding back the cascade of flowing black curls. The warrior Queen’s eyes filled with vengeance as she watched Balorn gurgle his last breaths. Her sister. Remy.
