“The water gripped her ankles with phantom hands, tugging her down. So she twisted, wrenching her arm free from the guard who held it. And so she pointed. One finger – at the king. Down down down that water wanted to pull her. But Nesta Archeron still pointed at the King of Hybern. A death-promise. A target marked. Hands shoved her into the water’s awaiting claws. And Nesta Archeron laughed at the fear that crept into the king’s eyes. Just before the water devoured her whole.”
