His jaw tightened. After a moment, he forced open his shaking fingers and let his bow fall to the ground. When he drew his sword, he could barely support the weight of it. Still, he threw everything he had into those final strikes. I didn’t patronize him. It took me seconds. And when I wrenched him close, when I prepared my killing blow, that one remaining eye met mine, as if looking into a mirror. “I’m glad it was you,” he said, quietly. And I made sure my aim was true as I slid my blade right into his heart.
