But it was the horsewoman who moved first. She was refining a divine aura, even more potent than before, behind the archer’s back. She had leapt off her steed as she fired, and, using it as a decoy, had gotten behind her enemy.
“...Impudent,” the archer muttered, and started to turn. Before he had the chance, however, an arrow struck his back, just where his heart was, at the speed of sound. And yet, for some reason, no sooner had the arrowhead struck the man’s body — struck the cloth draped over his head — than it splintered, scattering to the winds without eating into his flesh.
“I knew it...” The rider he had called “queen” groaned at the sight. More than surprise, the groan seemed to imply the confirmation of her conjecture.

Fate/Strange Fake: Volume 3, Chapter 7 ("Day 1, Afternoon")