“If it’s more compliments about my beauty, that can wait until tomorrow....”

I reached for the dagger I had secreted in the folds of my riding outfit as I rushed toward Amos, knocked down to the ground and surrounded by half a dozen angry, club-wielding men. Merlyn tried to restrain me, but I broke free. I was perhaps 20 meters away when a whirring sound sliced through the dawn air. It was a spear, propelled in a perfect spiral.

It struck the man whose club was poised above Amos’ head for the killing blow and pierced him through the middle of his back. He fell like timber to the ground just centimeters from Amos’ prone body. The other men turned around to hear a savage, high-pitched war cry coming from a tall, leather-clad woman. A crossbow was aimed squarely at them.