My stomach dropped.
Jaevid was still reeling, wiping water out of his eyes as he turned to face her. His face twisted with a look I wished I hadn’t seen. Agony. Sorrow. Rage like the surface of the sun. It was as though he were burning from the inside out as he walked forward to meet her. His whole body tensed, shoulders hunched, and hands clenched as he shouted at her, although I couldn’t make out the words over the dragons snarling.
In one smooth, beautifully lethal motion, Beckah drew back her arrow and fired. Jaevid stopped, his body pitching at the last instant. Without full armor to protect him, the arrow caught him right in the shoulder above his breastplate.
That was an easy shot. No way she had missed on accident. What then? A warning? Or … was it possible it was really her under that helmet?
Jaevid grabbed onto the shaft of the arrow and snapped it off, tossing the feathered end aside. He started walking toward her again, still shouting.
“What is he doing?” Haldor signaled.
I didn’t reply—but I knew. Deep down, I understood not wanting to imagine someone you loved would go through with it. I’d felt the same way when Aubren had me pinned, ready to land a killing blow. Jaevid must have been struggling with that, as well. He wanted to believe some part of her was still in there, fighting to get control. He was gambling on that hope just like I had.
And was doing it with all our lives—not just his own.
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