"Stop him!" I dropped from the bamboo and hit the ground running. A man in council robes darted toward the prince, dagger flashing under the lanterns. He moved like he had done this before. The prince stumbled, one foot catching on the temple stone, and the assassin aimed for the ribs. "Don't!" I screamed and vaulted over a low branch. My foot missed a root. I swung and fell. I landed across his lap with all the grace of a thrown sack of flour. My face struck cloth and bone and the world turned loud and narrow. "Annabelle—" a cool voice cut through the chaos. There was a hand at my shoulder, firm and cold, and a clean grip at the assassin's wrist. I reacted before I thought. I wrapped both arms around the blade-bearing arm and pulled. The man's fingers skidded. He tried to jerk free. I yanked like I was pulling a stubborn rope. The dagger clattered free from his hand. He lunged, but my weight knocked him sideways. I rolled on top of him, pinned him with my knee, and slapped his face hard enough to make the lantern light jump. "You picked the wrong night," I spat. The assassin scrambled. He wasn't expecting someone to be that strong. He lost balance and the prince leaned forward. My cheek brushed his coat. My head hit his chest. My lips couldn't help themselves. They met the cold line of his shirt for