Chapters (76)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- PROLOGUE
- PART I
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- PART II
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- PART III
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- INTERLUDE
- PART IV
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- INTERLUDE
- PART V
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- PART VI
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- INTERLUDE
- PART VII
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- PART VIII
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- EPILOGUE
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- Newsletter Sign-up
He looked sideways now, and William knew what he was thinking. Richard would have respected him, to take an arrow like a king, to still stand as a beacon even with his life in danger.
“Then I remember being proud that it worked. I was actually proud they attacked me, and Richard was safe. Until then, we never really knew if we were any real use, if posing as the king was a good strategy or not. Richard said it gave him time to think, but there had never been any attempts on his life. At times, it even seemed cowardly. But when the arrow hit … I knew we were doing the right thing.”
He would do anything, absolutely anything, for what he believed was right.
William let the moment linger. “Do you know what I was thinking?”
“What’s that?”
He grinned wide. “I remember being glad it wasn’t me.”
“Hm.” Robin sighed.
William reached over and held his glass out. “Cheers, old friend.”
With a hollow tink, Robin touched the two together. “Cheers.”
William took his drink in one large gulp, wincing at its bitter taste, and set it down on the table. Robin only looked into the liquid for a moment, his thoughts somewhere else entirely. When he drank it was slow, measured, but he continued to the last drop, tipping his head all the way back to finish.
As simply as snuffing a candle, William speared the small knife from his boot through the meat of his friend’s neck, and instantly wept.
“I’m sorry, Robin,” he cried, words so painful his throat squeezed at them to keep them in. He grabbed Robin’s forehead with one hand and tore the knife downward with the other, opening the front half of Robin’s throat in a torrent of blood and wine. To end it sooner, to put him from misery.
“I’m sorry,” he cried, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Robin flailed, trying to claw at his own neck, but William forced his head back, letting the blood pour sickeningly forth. Robin’s legs spasmed, his hands lunged for the sword on the table but William kicked it away, scattering the table’s contents to the floor. Both their bodies crashed to the ground, William on top, his hands over Robin’s face. “I’m sorry, Robin, please, I’m sorry, just let it go, don’t fight it, let it go, let it go, I’m sorry, God, I’m sorry.” Robin’s body convulsed and thrashed a few more times, but eventually flickered down to mere twitches until slowly relaxing into a lump of nothing.