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“Tuck!” Marian cried, not so much Happy to see you as Watch out, so I did.
The nearest guard came at me, but Marian kicked him aside. Another guard was dragging himself indoors, bleeding from a knife wound.
Good old Marian. As fierce and capable as ever.
She was grappling with a third guard and rapidly gaining the upper hand. Otherwise, the balcony was empty. I whirled, bewildered. Where was the prince?
“Inside! He’s escaping!” Marian yelled, still busy with the guard.
I leaped over the wounded guard and landed, squinting, on a thick rug. Outside, it had been broad daylight. Inside, it was dim enough that my eyes needed a moment to adjust.
A moment that nearly killed me, because a battle-axe came whamming down out of nowhere. I rolled just in time for it to slice the rug in two instead of me. When a head went rolling, I did a double take, then snarled. That rug wasn’t a rug. It was a tiger pelt, still attached to the head — until now. As a lion, I wasn’t especially fond of tigers, but still. No feline deserved such an indignity.
Doubly furious, I scrambled to my paws, cutting off the prince from the doorway. For a moment, he yanked at the axe, buried deep in the floor. Giving up, he snatched a sword from the wall display and raised it as I came flying at him.
Bang! I tackled him. Momentum carried us out to the balcony, where the prince was thrust back against the ornamental balustrade. The sword fell behind him, where the crowd scattered. I crashed into his chest, all but snickering. Now, I had the bastard.
When the air shimmered around his shoulders, I growled louder. I dare you to shift. I dare you.
Suffice to say, he didn’t.
I opened my jaws wide, ready to tear out his throat, when a voice boomed out like a cannon.
“Stop!”
It was so deep, so thoroughly commanding, I froze.
Beside me, Marian did the same. One foot, she kept on the stone floor of the balcony. The other pinned down the guard she’d just subdued. She stared at me, then down into the square.
Moments ago, the place had been sheer pandemonium. Now, everyone hushed — the humans fleeing for the exits, and even Daniel, the dragon, who turned to face the new danger.
Hundreds of eyes turned with him. Even Prince John rolled his eyes awkwardly up and to the side to peer down from his arched-back position.
I growled, ignoring the distraction. No one and nothing would keep me from killing Prince John now that I had the chance.
But just as I was about to tear out his throat, that voice boomed out a second time.
“Stop! In the name of the king!”
My teeth clacked together in the air as I yanked myself back, staring. What was that again?
At the back of the square, the mounted men — those late arrivals — pushed forward. Their steeds snorted in warning, and the crowd parted before them.
Everyone focused on the man at the head of that phalanx. Even from this distance, I could sense his confidence and power.
A traveling cloak covered him from head to toe — one so big, it even concealed much of his steed. As he rode slowly forward, he signaled to a page, who stopped, holding a corner of the cloak. It slipped free as the rider advanced, revealing a magnificent white horse and the rider’s true identity.
Hundreds of onlookers gasped, then fell to one knee.
“King Richard!”
“King Richard!”
The name echoed across the square, carried from one startled onlooker to another.
I was as stunned as anyone — except the widest-eyed of us all: Prince John.
He stared, then peeped in disbelief. “Richard?”
