"Your Grace! God, your shoulder…." Cherion's voice wavered. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the knife sticking out of the Duke's back. It looked wrong. Like something cheap and cowardly had no right touching him.
But Zarius? Zarius didn't even flinch. He didn't hiss in pain, didn't grunt, didn't so much as stagger. He just stood there, treating the assassination attempt with the same level of concern one might give to a particularly persistent mosquito in high summer.
The silence lasted for exactly three heartbeats. Then, the world exploded.
"Move! Down on the ground! Now!"
