“He’s not breathing,” Tam growled.
What?
Imala pushed her way through to him, while Tam quickly rolled the prince over and worked on getting the harbor water out of Chigaru’s stomach. No water came out of the prince’s mouth. The bolt hadn’t hit anything vital . . . so how did . . .
Maybe all the assassin needed to do was get the bolt in.
“Tam, poison!” I yelled and tried to push my way through the crowd to him. Phaelan was right behind me. Most people got out of my way; the rest I shoved out of my way. Four needlessly large goblin guards rushed in to stop us. There’s not really a polite way to lift someone off their feet and remove them from an area, and these guys didn’t even try.
The goblin mage/healer glared at me. “She pushed the boat into us.”
Instantly, every goblin on that dock was looking at me like I’d sprouted two horns and a tail. Mob mentality promptly took over. I felt the growls of the two goblins who were holding me clear down to my toenails. They clenched their hands around my arms like they were getting a better grip to tear me apart. Phaelan was on the receiving end of the same treatment.
And I couldn’t say a damned thing to prove that I wasn’t a prince killer.
The weather wizard controlling the boats had probably fished himself out of the harbor and was long gone by now. The pilots were blown up so there was no proof that they were Khrynsani, not elves. And to top it off, Chigaru’s people were well aware that I didn’t like him, and he didn’t trust me.
It was too much and too complicated for anyone to believe.
“No one move!” Tam roared. That order was intended for every goblin on the dock and yacht, but Tam’s dark eyes were leveled squarely on our over-eager guards. Their grip lightened. A little.
Imala knelt beside the prince, quickly pulling his long, wet hair away from his neck and throat. She hissed a curse, and pulled a tiny dart from the back of the prince’s neck with her gloved hand. She quickly but carefully examined the wound, the dart, and lifted back one of the prince’s eyelids.