The knights charged.
Vess did not move.
She stood. In the doorway. Her sword at her side. Her green eyes on the Crown Prince. On the man she had castrated. On the man she had been hunted by. On the man who had gang-banged her a decade ago with his men and who had left her broken and bleeding and who she had repaid by cutting off his cock head.
She did not move because she did not need to.
A knight screamed.
The sound was not human. It was the sound of a man whose body has been pierced. The sound of a man whose chest has been opened. The sound of a man who has been— the knight's chest was pierced.
By an arm.
