Lost in thought, Aegon had long since drifted into a daze.
Then, without warning-whoosh!
An arrow shot from concealment above him, its iron head hurtling straight toward the back of Aegon's head.
"Your Highness, look out!" Rupert cried, his face draining of color.
But Aegon had been riding at the very front, his fine Dothraki blood-sweating horse well ahead of the others. With few good horses native to the peninsula, Rupert's short, stocky local mount could not possibly catch up. It was already too late to ride forward and intercept the arrow.
Aegon, however, merely frowned slightly.
His Warrior Descended trait had alerted him before the danger arrived, and the instant he anticipated its direction, he moved.
Clang! Nightfall flashed from his hip. He swept it backward, and the Valyrian steel blade flickered through the air, its edge severing the crude arrow with perfect precision. The rough arrow was cut in two midflight, its halves landing with two dull thuds.
The broken shaft fell onto the grass, its cut as smooth as if a razor had sliced through it.
"Protect His Highness!" Alyn reacted at once, riding in front of his prince and drawing the longsword at his hip. His purple eyes fixed coldly on the direction the hidden arrow had come from.
At that same instant, the peninsula knights behind him pulled out their shields and quickly formed a shield wall, enclosing Aegon at its center.
Aegon turned his horse and leaned down to pick up the severed arrow. It was shoddily made, its fletching some unknown bird's feathers haphazardly tied into place, with patches of untrimmed bark still clinging to the shaft.
He frowned-this was almost certainly cheap Mountain Clan work.
But when his gaze fell on the iron arrowhead embedded in the grass, his brow furrowed even