“I mean ... that I could end it. Her confusion and terror. That I—could prevent her from suffering.” I looked at the bow and the dark, poisoned bolts attached to it. “That it’s in my hands to do so.”
“A mercy killing, then. Is that what you mean?”
“Yes,” I said.
She seemed to think about it. “Well, you know, you’d have to expose yourself first—in order to take the shot. And there’s always the risk they might turn on you. Is that—is that a risk you’re willing to take? And if so ... why? How would it benefit you—or us?”
I stared at her, confused by the change. “Look, just a minute ago you were—”
“Just a minute ago I was participating,” she said, sounding cold, analytical. “Now I’m observing. And I’ll ask you again ... why? What could it possibly change?”
I gripped my bow and thought ab
