Gadiel followed Ragnar's gaze. A low amused chuckle left him.
"He is quite good with a bow," Gadiel said, "but his fingers tend to slip on occasion. The last time that happened, the arrow ended up in a man's chest. It would be a shame for something like that to occur here."
Ragnar held still. His hand remained where it was, hovering just over the hilt of his sword. "No," he said. "I suppose it would."
The words were flat, without inflection. He knew that it would be impossible to reason with them. They had wanted him dead from the beginning, and had likely counted on the fenrars finishing the job so that they would not have to get their own hands dirty. That had not worked. And now, without his demon riders at his side, without the ability to summon his shadows, they had taken this as their opportunity to try to kill him.
He hated that they thought they had the right to threaten him. He hated that losing control over his shadows had given them the upper hand in this.
