Chapter Twenty-Six
Isla
People rush by in a flurry of screaming and terror. Rhylen grips my waist, pulling me to his chest. There’s a fear in his eyes that sends my blood running cold. He grips my chin, kissing me deeply, before pushing me away from him.
“Go,” he orders. He looks to Wyll and Argus. “Get them out of here. Take the tunnels. We will meet you as soon as we can.” My chest tightens with sudden fear. We couldn’t separate. Not now, not in this chaos. Maisie and Raia are nowhere to be found.
I shake my head, “no. No. Raia and Maisie. We have to find them!”
Rhylen pushes me towards Wyll. “I will, I promise. I will find them. Go.”
“No, no. Come with us,” I beg. “We can all flee.”
“Go Isla. I will come for you,” he promises. Rhylen kisses me once more. “I will always come for you, love.”
Argus grabs my wrist, pulling me away from Rhylen and the chaos that spins around us. Halstead guards bark orders as they try to fight off the prince’s soldiers.
Wyll follows behind us, striking and cutting the prince’s men as we move through the crowds.
A guard slips past Wyll, his sword aimed high and straight for me.
I freeze. Argus lets go of my wrist, thrusting his sword into the stomach of the man.
He falls in front of me. The life rapidly drains from his eyes.
I stand there, gawking at the guard as blood pours out of him. Wyll grabs me, cupping my face in his hands. “We keep moving, Isla. We keep going forward. Don’t stop and don’t look back.”
He thrusts a small dagger into my shaking hands. “Take this and use it. You fight, lovey.”
Panic rattles me as I grip the dagger, “I, I can’t. I can’t fight Wyll. We never trained. I can’t do it.”
“You can and you will, Isla. Move. We’ll find Rhylen as soon as we can. You aim for their cocks, lovey! If anything, take the jewels!”
Wyll turns on his heels, pulling me along, following Argus’ lead. We dip into a back-alley when Argus stops suddenly. Wyll looks at his friend in confusion.
“We took a wrong turn,” Wyll shouts. Argus brushes his friend off, ignoring him. “Argus, you bloody bastard. We need to head to the castle. It’ll be safer in the castle.”
Argus pushes on. He peers around the corner, seeing the coast was clear. All of a sudden, the street is empty, cleared out of Halstead guards and royal soldiers. Nothing but bodies litter the ground. A dark look falls over his face.
“Why are we stopping?” Wyll asks. He stands next to his friend, confusion on his face. Glaring at the man across from him, Wyll grits his teeth. “Argus. We need to keep going. We have to turn around.”
“I hate for it to be this way, old friend,” Argus retorts. In one swift strike, he slices into Wyll. The gurgle of blood rings in my ears as Wyll falls to his knees. Betrayal and hurt seeps from him.
“Why,” Wyll gasps, as I start screaming.
“No!” I keep screaming and fall to my knees, dropping the dagger as I fall. Time stands still. I gather my skirts around his neck, cradling his head as the blood pools around us. Too much blood. Too much. The street is bathed in a crimson glow. A metallic stench burns my nose.
“No, no, no. Stay with me Wyll, please.” I fish around in the small pouch at my waist. I had to have something, anything that would slow the bleeding, that would give me more time. I’m frantic, looking for any kind of salve that I might have thrown in my bag. Wyll grips my wrists tighter.
Argus chuckles. It’s a sinister sound that breaks the stun I feel. I look up at him, glaring. He presses his hand to his chest. “Would you believe me if I told you, it wasn’t you, it’s me?”
“You bastard,” I spit.
“Lovey,” Wyll gasps, pulling my attention away from the snake next to us. “Take the jewels.”
I shake my head, the tears blurring my eyesight. “Wyll, please.”
This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be happening, I repeat over and over. Argus grabs a fist full of hair, yanking me back towards him. I grab at his hands.
My scalp screams in a fiery pain. I claw at his hands, trying to get him to release me. Wyll tries to get up, a desperate look on his face. His skin is blanched from the pain. Argus slams his booted foot into Wyll’s chest. His head smacks back down on the street.
“No!” I shout, smacking my hands at him. “You were his friend! You were their friend! You bastard!”
“It’s not personal,” he counters, hauling me away from Wyll. I look at my friend sprawled, unconscious on the ground, as the life slowly bleeds out of him. My heart aches. Helplessness drowns me as my heart shatters into a million shards.
“Wyll!” I try again. “Wyll! Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me, Wyll!”
Argus shoves me forward, before picking his blade up and resting it between my shoulder blades. I don’t even get to be with him as he takes his last breath. “Now shut up and move. I have strict orders to keep you alive, but do not test me.”
“I will kill you. Not now, but soon, Argus. I will rip everything away from you.” I take two steps forward, moving towards the entrance of the village. Each step wrecks me. Argus lowers his blade, gripping my wrist tightly. He ignores my promises of threats and we keep walking.
There’s a group of men at the gate on horseback. I see the familiar sheen of brown hair among the men. Oliver stares out at the chaos with a pleased look on his face.
His hands rest on the pommel of his sword while he leisurely sits atop his horse. Argus whistles the closer we get to them. Dread pools into the pits of my stomach. This can’t be happening.
Oliver spots us several yards from the gates. He rides towards us in a hurry. “You did it. I’m impressed,” he tells Argus.
Argus grunts and shoves me towards the horse. “She’s all yours, Captain.”
“How could you?” I screech.
“Gotta follow the money, lovey,” Argus grins. My heart seizes at hearing Wyll’s nickname. I lunge at the stupid bastard, clawing at his face. Oliver grabs me around the waist.
“You killed our friend! You bastard!” I shout, over and over.
“Isla, Isla, stop,” he commands, but I don’t care. I continue swinging my balled fists at him as Oliver heaves me off of him. “Islabelle. What has come over you?”
I whip around in his arms at his nickname and begin struggling against him. “You have no right to call me that,” I spit. “Unhand me.”
Oliver gives me a cruel grin. It sends a shiver of fear down my spine. He leans in, his nose touching mine. “Would you like me to slit your throat then? Brand you the traitor that you are? Consorting with the enemy as you have done?”
I push against him and fight to get out of his arms. “Release me! Help! Help me!”
“I’m sorry, my betrothed. I’m afraid I can’t do that. There’s no one here to help you. They all die tonight.” He grips my wrists and nods to the men that had flanked his sides. Oliver hands me off to them. “Tie her up. She’ll ride with me.”
“Rhylen,” I screech, shouting until my throat becomes hoarse.
One of his men wrenches my wrists together and binds them. I watch as Oliver walks up to Argus. “I guess this is where we part. But first,” he pauses. “We must make you look the part.”
Oliver slams his fist into Argus’ stomach three times, causing him to fall to his knees. Seizing the moment of Argus on the ground, Oliver slams his knee into the man’s face. Argus lays on the ground, moaning in pain.
“There,” Oliver wipes his hands. “That should do it. Off you go. I’ll wait for your report.”
He nudges Argus with his boot and then turns his attention back to me.
With a wicked gleam in his eyes, he drags me to his horse.
His hand gently caresses my cheek. I can feel bile crawl up my throat, threatening to spill the contents of my stomach all over him.
In one swoop, he’s throwing me onto this horse.
Oliver turns back to his men, “burn the village. We got what we came here for.”
∞∞∞
I don’t know how long we’ve been riding, but everything hurts. Flames and screams keep replaying in my head over, and over again. Wyll’s last breaths. Fates.
Would they find him? Would Irric be okay without his brother? Will they send him off in a warrior's pyre? Question after question assaults me. Watching his head fall limp on the street echoes in my mind.
My brain racks with my next moves. How can I get away? I need to somehow slip word to Rhylen. I need to warn him. His friend has betrayed him. There’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Oliver squeezes my hips causing me to stiffen. Every touch threatens to spill whatever contents my stomach contains. He’s a traitor, a liar, a bastard.
“Oh, Islabelle. I have missed you,” Oliver whispers in my ear.
My fists clench, wishing the Fates would get me away from him. “Don’t touch me.”
His hand grips my hip tighter and his voice tickles the shell of my ear. “I made a promise a long time ago, Isla. You’re mine. You have always been mine.”
An hour into our trip, one of his guards reminds Oliver they need to water the horses once more. We stop at the creek that winds through the grove and everyone dismounts. My mind constantly plays his words in my head, his constant reminder of how I belong to him.
My stomach revolts at his words. I know deep in my soul who my heart belongs to, and it isn’t the liar behind me. I jut my chin out in defiance, refusing to play into him, to even look him in the eye.
He walks away, chuckling. It’s so familiar, so skin-pricklingly eerie. The voice that’s been haunting my dreams since I’ve been away from my home.
“You disgust me.” The words pour out of my mouth before I’m able to stop them. Oliver whips around and stomps towards me. My hearts in my throat, but I don’t back down. “I will never marry you.”
Oliver’s hand wraps around my throat. “You will, Isla. You have no choice.”
“I trusted you!” I snap. “I trusted you and you laughed in my face. I will resist every step of the way. And when you fall? I’m going to be the one who pushed you.”
His fingers squeeze tighter around my throat. Black dots dance in my vision. Oliver pulls me towards him, his lips against my temple.
“You think you can resist me? I will break you, Isla. I will own you, heart, and soul. It’s up to you how badly it gets, but I will break you.”
Oliver releases my throat, causing me to double over, gasping for air. He chuckles as he steps away from me. “You will never break me,” I rasp.
He turns around; rage fills his eyes. It only fuels me further. “You might have my body, but you will never have my heart.”
“We’ll see about that,” he growls. His hands are balled into fists.
“How can you take my heart when it is not there? When it is not yours to take or mine to give? It is already owned by another.”
“Don’t you dare say it,” Oliver snaps.
“He owns me, Oliver. Rhylen owns me, heart, and soul, and now your kingdom will die.” I throw my head back, manically laughing. Oliver’s angry face is the last thing I see as he swings.