The blade of the small dagger was buried deep in Tian Fei's gut. For a moment, the entire hall seemed to hold its breath. The high-pitched ringing of steel on steel died away, replaced by the wet, heavy thud of the man falling to his knees. His rapier clattered to the floor, and he clutched his stomach, his face twisting in a mask of shock and agony.
Qingxue stood over him, her own shoulder bleeding and her breath coming in ragged gasps. She looked around the room at the black-armband soldiers who had frozen in their tracks. Their leader was down. The man who had promised them gold and power was bleeding out on the marble.
