Senna’s POV
I couldn’t let the arrow go. My hands were frozen. My sight was on the girl. Every second that ticked by brought her closer and closer to the spire.
But I wasn’t a killer.
If I let the arrow go, I’d be killing her in cold blood. Another person. A real live human being.
I didn’t have that in me.
Everyone was shouting at me, telling me to let the arrow go. My forehead was covered in a thin layer of sweat. My heart was hammering against my ribs.
“Please, Senna,” Thistle cried out. The sound of his pleas broke my heart. He was sobbing, terrified.
But I still couldn’t do it.
‘Just let the arrow go,’ a voice in my head said. But it wasn’t Verity’s. It was my own voice, urging me to do what I had to do.
I’d really thought I could do it, when the time came. Now that the moment
