“Each of you will take three shots,” says the Ash King, loudly enough for me to hear. “No arrows should land above her shoulders. The one to come closest to her skin without breaking it wins a private lunch with me. But if your aim is off—well, she can heal herself.” He gives the girls a wolfish smile, and they smirk and giggle in response—all except for Khloe, who looks paler than usual, and Teagan, who frowns at the King but doesn’t speak.
Fucking rudeeee
