CHAPTER FIFTY SIX
IRIS/WILLIAM
IRIS
The carriage rattled through the gates of Elarion’s Castle, its wheels scraping against the stone path. The sight of the tall towers and gray walls made my stomach twist. The place that once felt like home now looked like a prison.
When the doors opened, my father stepped out first. His voice was sharp and cold when he spoke. “Take this traitor to the healers,” he ordered, pointing at William. “Once he’s well enough to stand, take him to the dungeons. His execution will be set for tomorrow.”
The words echoed through me like a knife. Tomorrow. He was going to die tomorrow.
Two guards dragged William out of the carriage. His head hung
low, his legs barely holding him upright. Blood had soaked through his tunic, leaving a dark trail behind him as they pulled him toward the east hall. I tried to move after him, but my father’s next words stopped me.
“And take the princess to her chambers,” he said. “She will remain there until I decide she can leave.”
Before I could react, two guards stepped forward and seized my
arms. Their grips were strong, unrelenting. “Let go!” I shouted, thrashing against them. “Let me go!”
They said nothing. Their hands only tightened as they dragged me up the stairs. My feet scraped against the steps, my voice raw from screaming. “Father, please!” I cried. “Please don’t do this!”
He didn’t turn around. He didn’t even look at me.
When we reached the corridor, I could still hear the sound of boots behind us, the guards pulling William in the opposite direction. I turned my head, desperate to see him one last time, but the hallway was already empty.
The guards shoved open the door to my bedchamber and threw me inside. I hit the floor hard, the breath knocked out of me. The sound of the lock turning was loud, final.
I scrambled up, running to the door and pounding my fists against it. “Let me out!” I screamed. “Let me out this instant!”
Silence answered me.
My hands fell to my sides, shaking uncontrollably. The silence
pressed in on me, thick and suffocating. Then something inside me snapped. I turned around and screamed, the sound tearing out of my throat until it burned. It was anger, pain, and despair all at once, echoing back at me from the cold stone walls.
I slammed my fists against the wall. Once. Twice. Again. The impact sent sharp pain up my arms, but I didn’t stop. I hit harder, faster, until I couldn’t feel anything but the sting of raw skin. The
sound of it filled the room, a rhythm of grief and fury.
William was going to die tomorrow. The thought echoed in my head like a curse. He was going to die, and I would be forced to watch. Tortured. Broken. His pain would be paraded before me while I stood there helpless.
The anger grew until it swallowed everything else. My fists met the wall again, blood streaking across the stone. My knuckles split open, crimson against gray. The pain barely registered. It was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.
He was going to die because of me. Because I ran. Because I chose him. Because I was too selfish to let him go when I should have.
I slid down to the floor, my legs too weak to hold me. My breath came in shallow bursts, my vision blurring. My hands throbbed, and blood dripped onto my gown, staining it. My chest hurt so much it felt like it might tear open.
If I hadn’t gone with him, none of this would have happened. He
would still be free. He would still be alive. The weight of it crushed me until I could barely think.
The fire flickered across the walls, but I felt no warmth. Only cold. Empty, endless cold.
I pulled my knees close, pressing my head against them. The tears wouldn’t stop, no matter how hard I tried. And as they fell, one thought burned through the haze of pain and guilt.
I couldn’t let it end like this.
WILLIAM
I could hardly feel my body. It was as if the world around me had dissolved into nothing but pain and fading sound. My eyes fluttered open, though my vision blurred and shifted, colors bleeding together into pale shapes. The smell of herbs and metal filled the air.
The ceiling above me came in and out of focus. I blinked slowly, trying to make sense of the movement around me. Then I heard voices, rushed and urgent.
“The king wants him healed before dawn. Hurry!”
Their words cut through the haze like a dull blade. Healed before dawn. I knew what that meant. Not mercy, not kindness. Just a cruel preparation for what came next.
Hands pressed against me, cold and firm. The faint sting of
liquid on my skin made me flinch. Someone tore away the moss Iris had placed, and the brief comfort of her touch vanished with it. My breath hitched, a hoarse sound escaping my throat.
Everything burned. My shoulder, my back, my chest. The pain was so deep it felt carved into my bones. I tried to move, to speak, but my limbs wouldn’t listen.
More voices shouted. The words blurred together, growing
distant, like they were sinking beneath the sea. My vision swam again. Faces hovered above me, their mouths moving, but I couldn’t hear them anymore.
Then, slowly, everything went quiet.
The light dimmed, the pain dulled, and the world slipped away into black.
—
When I opened my eyes again, the world was dim and silent. For a moment, I didn’t know if I was still alive. My body felt heavy, my head pounding, and the air around me was thick with dampness and the faint scent of stone and rust.
I forced myself to sit up. My muscles protested, but they worked.
The sharp pain that had once burned through my back was gone, replaced by a deep, dull ache.
I looked down and saw that I was bare from the waist up, only my trousers left.
My skin was clean, though faint red marks dotted my shoulders where the arrows had been.
The healers had done their work. They had saved me.
But not for mercy. Not for life. Only so I could face what waited next.
I looked around. Bars rose high in front of me, cold and black, their edges wet with condensation. The light came from a single torch fixed outside the cell, flickering weakly against the walls. The floor beneath me was rough stone, uneven and cold.
There was a small slab of rock against the wall, some sort of makeshift bed and a rusted chain looped through the iron ring around my wrists. In the corner sat a dented chamber pot. The stench of it mixed with the damp air.
I was in the dungeons.
My pulse quickened as the realization sank in. The silence here was different. Heavy. Final. This was where they kept men who had already been sentenced. Men waiting for death.
I leaned back against the wall, the chill of the stone biting through my skin. The faint sound of footsteps echoed somewhere in the distance, fading as quickly as they came. I closed my eyes for a moment, breathing slow and shallow.
Then I turned my head slightly and saw a crack in the far wall. A thin line of light spilled in. It was faint, weak, but enough to tell me what I didn’t want to know. Morning.
The night was gone.
The faint hum of voices carried from somewhere above, guards
changing posts, the low clatter of armor echoing through the halls. The world outside was waking, but down here, time felt still. Cold. Unforgiving.
I turned my head toward that small crack again. The light shifted slightly, spreading across the floor in a slow, golden streak. Dawn. The start of a new day for everyone else. The end of mine.
My hands trembled in the chains. I flexed them slowly, testing
the strength of the iron. It didn’t matter. There was no escaping this.
A quiet breath left me. I closed my eyes, letting the light brush against my skin one last time. The warmth was faint, but I could almost imagine it was her. Iris. The way she felt in my arms, the way her voice sounded when she said my name.
The light grew stronger, spilling further into the cell.
It was the next day.
And today, I would die.