The head thumped onto the stone slabs and rolled over until the bloodied stump was pointed at Song. She dragged her eyes away as soon as her morbid curiosity would allow, but the sight of muscles tensing beneath siphoning blood was seared into her vision. It took all she had to refrain from throwing her shackles into the executioner’s face and drawing her concealed blade.

Steeling her resolve, Song had to believe it was possible to talk her way out of this mess before resorting to violence. There was no other option left to her really. The likelihood of her survival was slim should it come to a head-on fight with a cohort of trained guards.

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