Page 62 of Splintered Shadow
“Does the treaty erase your military victories?”
“Why was the investigation on your attack closed so quickly, Prince Vekele?”
“Do you plan retaliation against those responsible for your attack?”
“Rumor has it that you believe the king ordered the attempt on your life?”
The last question rang through the suddenly silent crowd.
Anger welled up inside him, and the shadows gathered to him. Pitch dug her claws into his shoulder, agitation coming through their bond.
How dare…
Sarah touched his hand, focusing his thoughts. He would retain his composure. A few rude questions would not ruin this day.
The overhead lights burst with a pop. Darkness descended. Not even the light from the outside pierced the deep black that filled the room.
Nothing good would come of this.
Chapter Thirteen
Sarah
That waswhen all hell broke loose.
The room went pitch black. There was no light to be had, not even from the glow of the media equipment or the screens floating in the room.
There was a crack of glass breaking, the smell of smoke, and then a scream.
“Secure the king!”
Chaos erupted. Shouts and cries of distress came from the audience. Every karu—dozens—croaked loudly in warning.
Vekele moved to stand in front of her. His wings were out. He stood close enough that the wispy feathers brushed against her.
“Stay back,” he ordered.
A shot pierced the noise of the room. Sarah had no idea how she heard the relatively quiet shot amid all the shouting and the dull thuds of people falling to the floor.
Vekele flinched and grunted.
“You’re hit,” she said.
“I said stay back.” He flexed his wings, forcing her to step back.
Slowly, her eyes adjusted. She had just enough light to see figures moving in the dark. Only the perspective was wrong. Everyone stood extraordinarily tall. Granted, everyone on Arcos seemed to be taller than her, but this was taller than normal.
Ghost nosed her hand.
Understanding flooded through their bond. She saw through his eyes. Impressions ofpackandsafetwisted with the vision.
Someone grabbed her hard and yanked her, so she stumbled over her own feet. An arm clamped over her throat, pinning her back to someone’s chest.
“Let me go!” she shouted.
“Quiet,” a voice warned, moments before a slap landed across her face.
A punch to her flank followed, knocking the breath out of her, rendering her unable to think beyond the pain in her abdomen for a few moments. She scratched at the arm pinning her in place. She wasn’t a fighter, with noodly arms and no muscle tone to speak of. Her feet flailed, kicking but striking nothing.
