The arrow came swift and silent, so silent that by the time anyone realized it had been loosed, it was already buried deep in Keiser's shoulder.
The impact forced him back a step, almost toppling him, his boots scraping against the stone street. He bit down a curse, trying to keep his balance, his vision swimming for a moment.
The pain was sharp, immediate, burning through flesh and muscle with a ferocity that made his jaw clench. Yet what struck him harder than the wound itself was the recognition.
He knew this shot.
He knew the hand that could send an arrow flying so cleanly in the dead of night.
"Muzio!" Lenko's voice cut through the night in a low hiss.
He was already moving, seizing Tyron by the arm, dragging him close, and pulling the boy's hood over his head in one quick motion. His eyes darted wildly through the shadows, searching for the hidden archer.
