"I do not know any of these jerks!" Helena snaps, her sickly-sweet mask finally slipping into genuine indignation. "And why in the world would you think an elite Elven assassin would take orders from me?"
Kaelen doesn't flinch. He presses the heavy, blood-soaked steel of his broadsword just a fraction deeper against her pale skin. A single drop of crimson trails down her neck.
"Your presence here, combined with the exact timing of this assassination attempt, is highly suspicious," Kaelen growls, his voice rumbling with lethal intent.
"I told you, it has absolutely nothing to do with me," Helena says, her eyes narrowing.
With a sudden, sharp pulse of her own force, she violently twists her wrist. The glowing green magical arrow pinning her to the table shatters into a million dissipating sparks. She rubs her wrist, glaring up at the towering knight. "And I suggest you lower your sword. Do not forget I am the First Princess of the Aethros Kingdom."
