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spit escaping from between his clenched teeth.
    Cleve drove his knife hard into the man’s belly, hearing a crash and glass shattering behind him just after the man collapsed. He took a moment to disarm the man he’d cut before turning to see what the noise was.
    Just within the door was a guard of Goldram—Cleve recognized him as the new guard who didn’t want the Takary sisters inside. For some reason, the guard had purposefully knocked over a towering clock. The massive structure was now strewn across the closed door, thousands of glass shards all around it.
    Why would he block the exit?
    Then the guard drew his sword and hastily went toward the King of Goldram—his own king.
    “What are you doing?” Danvell asked, backing up into the wall.
    Jessend put herself between them, bending her knees with her arms out in preparation for an attack. She looked like a little mouse in comparison to the armored man before her.
    “Move, Princess,” the guard threatened. “Both kings need to die, along with Harwin.”
    Cleve, now armed with two knives, took Jessend’s place, pushing her back to make sure she was out of the way. She resisted at first, so he shoved her harder.
    “Stay back,” he said, brandishing both knives at the guard in front of him.
    The door was being slammed into the fallen clock from other palace guards trying to get in. “Your highness, are you alright?” someone shouted from behind it.
    The traitor lunged at Cleve with an overhead swing of his sword. Unable to sidestep it in fear of the Takarys behind him being struck, Cleve crossed his daggers to intercept the blow.
    Cleve kicked the traitor in the stomach as he’d done thousands of times in training. Against the man’s chain mail, it did nothing but send him back a step.
    Guards were breaking the top of the door with their swords. Cleve knew he just needed to keep his enemy at bay and they soon would be inside the room. His attacker must’ve also realized this, for his aggression doubled in that moment.
    He swung wildly from side to side as Cleve dodged and waited for an opportunity to strike back. But he found none. As desperate as the man was with his weapon, he still knew not to leave himself open for a counterattack. He was clearly well-trained, and he wasn’t about to allow Cleve to let this go any longer than it needed to.
    Unable to defend himself much longer, Cleve had to create his own opportunity to strike, not something he’d practiced with daggers against a sword.
    He threatened to throw one dagger, cocking back his arm after jumping away to create distance. It halted his attacker for a heartbeat, the man turning his shoulders inward in preparation.
    But Cleve knew the dagger would have to strike the man in the face for it to do any harm, and his opponent was moving too quickly to be sure it would work. Instead, Cleve took a different risk. He started toward the false guard of Goldram.
    The guard thrust his weapon at Cleve’s chest. Unable to deflect the blow with his daggers, Cleve had to know it was coming for his plan to work. Luckily, he did.
    Moving to the side, the man’s sword caught Cleve’s shirt but not his flesh.
    Cleve drove both daggers into the soft underbelly of the man’s chin.
    The guard stumbled backward and fell, gasping as his sword slipped from his hands. Cleve picked up the sword intending to drive it through the man’s heart, but his protective chain mail threatened to prevent his death from being merciful. It was likely to take a few painful strikes before Cleve could pierce his heart.
    So he stood over the man’s face, the sword raised high. But Cleve had the thought to look around first.
    He found gaping eyes and the little boy shaking with terror. His father had his arm around him.
    “It’ll be alright, Harwin,” the King of Zav said, trying to turn the child’s face away.
    But the Prince wouldn’t take his eyes off Cleve.
    Neither would anyone else.
    “Look away,” he told them, the man at