CHAPTER FIFTY THREE #2
WILLIAM
More arrows flew through the air, slicing past my head and thudding into the wood beside me. I ducked low, the boat rocking hard under the force. One arrow splashed into the water near my arm, spraying salt water against my face.
Iris stirred awake, her voice weak at first. “William, what’s happening?”
Before she could sit up, I reached for her shoulder and pushed her back down. “Stay down,” I said sharply. “Don’t move.”
Her eyes darted around in panic. “What’s going on?”
“Just stay down,” I repeated, grabbing the oars again. My arms burned with every pull, but I forced the boat forward through the waves. The sea felt heavier now, dragging us backward like it wanted to keep us trapped.
Arrows kept flying. One hit the edge of the boat and split the wood. Another found its mark. It struck my shoulder and drove through the fabric. Pain shot through me and I hissed, my grip faltering.
“William!” she cried, trying to rise, but I caught her wrist and pushed her down again.
“It’s fine,” I said between shallow breaths. “Stay down. It’s just a scratch.”
Blood ran down my arm, but I ignored it. The air burned into the wound, and every movement sent pain through my body. I would not stop. Not while she was still in danger.
More arrows came. Some struck the water, others missed by inches. I hunched lower, rowing faster. The sound of my heartbeat drowned everything else.
“Who are they?” she asked, her voice shaking.
I didn’t answer. My eyes stayed on the horizon. I had to find land. I had to get her somewhere safe.
She turned slightly, and her voice broke. “William, my father. He’s on that ship.”
I froze for a moment. The sun hit the crest painted on the sails,
the royal emblem of Elarion shining bright. And there he was. The king himself stood at the front, his crimson cloak billowing in the wind. Soldiers surrounded him, and even from here, I could feel his fury.
Her father.
The King.
He was watching us.
The sight cut deep, but I didn’t have time for anger. Not now. I gritted my teeth and forced the oars through the water again. My shoulder screamed in pain, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.
The sea crashed around us, pulling at the boat. My blood dripped down the oar handle, mixing with the salt. The pain meant
nothing. Only she mattered. Only getting her away from that ship.
Then, through the morning light, I saw it. A thin strip of dark green.
Land.
I pushed the oars through the water with everything I had left. My arms burned, my wounded shoulder felt like it was on fire, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. Each pull brought us closer to that strip of green, closer to safety.
The waves slammed against the sides of the boat. My vision blurred from sweat and blood, but I kept my eyes locked on the shore. Nothing else mattered. Not the pain, not the arrows, not
even the roar of the sea behind us.
Another arrow came. I saw it too late. It struck my arm, deep and fast. The force of it nearly tore the oar from my hand. I gritted my teeth, a hiss escaping through them as blood ran warm down my forearm.
“William!” Iris cried. “Oh God, let me see it!”
“No,” I barked, keeping my grip tight on the oars. “Stay low.”
“You’ll bleed to death!”
“You can check it once we’re on land,” I said, the words rough between shallow breaths. “Not now.”
She didn’t argue, but I can feel her panicking beneath the crash of the sea. The feeling tore through me worse than the pain in my
arm.
The shore was closer now, so close I could see the line where the waves met the sand. I dug the oars deep again and again. My muscles screamed. My shoulder throbbed with every movement. The blood made the wood slick under my palms, but I refused to let go.
A voice carried across the wind, sharp and commanding. “Release my daughter!”
King Henrik’s voice.
So that was what he thought. That I had stolen her. That she hadn’t chosen this. The anger hit me hard, but I didn’t let it break my focus.
The arrows came again, slicing through the air, hitting the water just behind us. The boat rocked hard, and I nearly lost balance, but I steadied it and pushed on.
The sand was only a few feet away now. My arms felt like lead, my breath short and uneven, but I didn’t stop. One more pull, then another.
The bottom of the boat scraped against the sand, jerking us forward. We were there.
I let go of the oars and slumped forward, my chest heaving. My arms trembled from the effort. The arrows still came, but they fell short now, splashing harmlessly into the shallow water.
We had reached land.
I turned to her, breathing hard. “Come on,” I said, reaching out my hand.
She took it without hesitation, her fingers trembling against mine. Together we stepped off the boat, our feet sinking into the wet sand. The sea pulled at our ankles, the salt biting at my wounds, but we didn’t stop. The air smelled of iron and smoke and fear.
Then it came.
An arrow struck me in the back. The force drove the breath from my lungs. For a second, I froze. The pain flared sharp and deep, but instinct took over. I moved in front of Iris, forcing her behind me, my body shielding hers.
Another arrow flew, hitting my shoulder. The shock of it almost made me fall, but I gritted my teeth and steadied myself.
“Run,” I said, my voice breaking. “Run!”
She hesitated, shaking her head, panic rising up her face. “No, I’m not leaving you—”
“Go!” I shouted, pushing her forward. “I’m right behind you.”
The pain was unbearable now, spreading through my back like fire, but I ran. The sand shifted beneath my feet, slowing me down. Iris stumbled ahead of me, looking back with wide, terrified eyes.
Behind us, I heard shouting. The heavy sound of boots hitting the shore. The king’s ship had landed. His soldiers were coming.
Another arrow hit, this one lower, near my ribs. My legs nearly gave out, but I forced them to move. I couldn’t stop. Not while she was still running.
The forest line was close. Just a few more steps.
But another arrow struck, then another. The impacts blurred together until I couldn’t tell how many there were. My back burned, the weight of them dragging me down.
Still, I ran.
The only thing that mattered was keeping her safe.
If this was the price of loving her, then I would pay it without regret.
My vision blurred. Every breath came shorter than the last, every heartbeat louder than the one before. The trees ahead swayed and shifted, and for a moment, I thought I might collapse right there on the sand.
Then I saw it. A shadow cut into the cliffside, half hidden by overgrown vines. A cave. Shelter.
“Iris,” I rasped, my voice barely audible. “Over there.”
She turned, following my gaze. The moment she saw it, she nodded and sprinted ahead, her ballgown brushing the sand as she ran. I stumbled after her, the weight of the arrows in my back dragging me lower with every step.
The shouting behind us grew louder. The soldiers were close. Too close.
I forced one more push, each movement sending pain through my chest. My breath came ragged and uneven. I could see her just ahead, standing at the cave entrance, her hand reaching for me.
“Come on!” she cried, her voice desperate.
I reached her. The cool shade of the cave swallowed us, dimming the blinding sun outside. For a second, I felt relief, brief and fragile.
Then my knees buckled. The strength drained from my legs, and I hit the ground hard. The world tilted, spinning around me. I could hear her gasp, could feel her hands on my shoulders, but I couldn’t lift my head.
My chest rose and fell in short, shallow breaths. The sound of
the sea faded into something distant, like a dream slipping away.
Everything grew quiet.
And then, nothing.