Teagan and Khloe shoot carefully, attempting to win the time with the King, but the others are more intent on making me hurt—even Sabre and Leslynne. There’s a desperate hunger in their eyes, the look of cornered prey. It’s as if they don’t see me anymore—they see everything standing between them and the crown. With these arrows, they’re pinning their fears, their anxieties, all the pressure and pain, onto me, onto the target.
