Astrid’s POV
A long, wry smile grew on his face. “Woman, wouldn’t you bow to a King?”
The Western King? It shouldn’t be possible.
Riyana told me it was a Duke. Was that wrong information, or had I been tricked? I shook the thought off. The King of the West was a bald old man with scars on his face. My aunt had met him.
There had been no talk of a new reign either. I looked back at the silk hair framing his youthful face. They must have designated this individual as the sacrificial lamb for the Duke.
“And what is the King of the Western Kingdom doing here?” I found my tongue.
I noticed his right hand held the arrow I had shot. How could he catch an arrow moving at that speed without cutting himself?
My chances of fighting and winning dwindled like a leaking tap. Since he believed
