Someone cried, “Kill it!”

The stillness broke. Soldiers surged forward with their swords drawn. On instinct alone, Anders flattened into a shadow and popped up several yards away. The bewildered men shouted and shoved against each other to see where he went.

“Demon!” Krystofyr yelled, pointing at him.

This time, one nobleman threw his knife at Anders. Again he shadowed to the side and reappeared behind them. 

The men charged at him again. Well, there’s no sense in trying to keep the secret anymore, he thought, and shadowed across the room to escape.

No, he thought suddenly. Why should I have to run? I am the King.

Still a shadow, he swerved and instead popped up behind the smallest opponent, catching him off guard. Anders seized the knife from his hand and plunged it in the man’s chest. 

But the knife got stuck, and when he tried to wrench it out, another soldier struck at his side. Anders flattened away. Luckily, only his clothes were slashed. He wasn’t used to fighting as a shadow. 

Make this next one count, he told himself, and shadowed after Krystofyr.

He popped up, grabbed a knife, and raked it down his former friend’s back. Fabric ripped, but the blade skimmed off Krystofyr’s skin like a stone on water. 

Startled, Anders stumbled. Krystofyr took his chance and slammed Anders against a wall. “Of course you would try that,” Krystofyr growled. “But I have God’s favor, and you can’t get whatever you want anymore.”

Anders choked. “How are you invincible?” 

“The good Lord Himself wants rid of your wickedness. An angel appeared to me at the riverbank and granted me a blessing of my choice. Now, no blade can harm me.” Krystofyr grabbed the knife by its steel, right from Anders’ hand. “You can’t make me bleed, devil.”

Terrified, Anders flattened and fled the room.