One of the guards had shoved Quercus toward the edge. At the last second, he’d pulled the King back and grabbed his head, turning it so that the King was forced to look at the guard’s face. For some odd reason, the man had made the sign of the Woodsman Cross, then put his fingers to his lips, indicating for the King to stay quiet. The whole wide-wood had gone mad. Why all this playacting? Better to have the deed done. His would-be assassin had then pointed his finger, swiveling the King’s body so that he’d been forced to look down.

At that moment the back door had opened to Salix and Alnus, their blades ready and eager. As the hands gripped him tight, the King had watched the scene unfold in creeping horror. It was like being the only audience member in a play about himself. The treenage boy dressed in black finery did not look like any kind of match for the men. He’d recognized the scar on the taller one’s scalp. But the words that crawled out of their lips like foul cockroaches had been worse than any stab wound.

They were out to commit regicide, choosing the fireworks for their cover. When they revealed that his most trusted advisors were behind the plan, the King had sagged at the knees, an old man let down by those he loved. He was a parcel, ready to be delivered up to whoever paid the highest.

And now Quercus tried to wriggle free, but the other guard stepped in, wrapping his arms around his chest like a rope. Again, the King saw the finger raised to lips, silently pleading for him to stay calm.

The boy below was to be admired. Both crazy and courageous. Would that all Dendrans defended their King so! It would be no battle. Quercus bridled at the dishonor of two trained men killing an unarmed boy.

“X marks the spot,” a voice commanded. The King could only stare in horror.

At the sound of the voice, Salix paused in his attack, turning back to his companion just in time to see him look down.

“What are you on about?” Alnus could see the huge X marked on the floor beneath his feet.

“This!” said Ark, pulling a lever attached to the wall.

Before Alnus could even think — not that he ever did much thinking — a pair of trapdoors opened beneath his feet and he was taking his first flying lesson.

“Heeeelllllp!” screamed Alnus as he plunged down toward certain death, only to bounce back up a moment later as the giant spiderweb beneath the trapdoors buoyed up. But the second time he fell, the sticky web caught him and held him tight.

The King couldn’t help smiling. If there hadn’t been a hand clamped tight over his lips, he would have shouted Bravo!

“One down, one to go!” said Ark.