I can just feel my father’s glee at the thought of me beheading the kings. The anticipation is almost more than he can bear.

A little anti-silver medicine goes a long way as I throw it on the kings while my knife lowers to their necks.

My father bellows, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

He’s noticed that something seems off. But then, this plan isn’t perfect. Almost perfect, and good enough to trap my father. He should have remembered that by the time the prey ...