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
“I’m sorry,” William kept saying, his hands and arms soaked in blood, his face pressed against his friend’s. He could feel Robin’s warmth fading already. “We swore an oath to the King, an oath of fidelity, an oath to protect our country from all dangers. All dangers, even from within itself, even from ourselves, even from those we love. You broke that oath, not I. All you’ve done is endanger the people. I couldn’t let you stop this peace, you have to see that! Why wouldn’t you back down? All you had to do is let this go, but you wouldn’t back down!”
He then stood, ferociously, wheeling upon Ferrers, who had borne witness to all of it and stood uselessly, an exacting symbol of the people William was trying to protect. He screamed, because he had to. “There will be peace in Nottingham!”
His legs were weak and he had to lean against the wall, but still he directed all his fury and grief at Ferrers. “There will be peace, and I will be its architect. I will do it, even if I have to drag everyone along like a child, even if I have to kill every man who would stand in my way, I will see it done. And there isn’t a friend, or a father, or a lover that is worth more than that! And if I am the only one willing to sacrifice for it, then—”
He coughed, his throat too tight to continue, he tried to speak again, but there was bile now. He hacked violently and nearly vomited. He choked and spat into his own hands, bracing himself to recover. He opened his eyes and forced himself to focus on a single spot, to pull himself back. It was the wreath he stared at, but it would not stay still, it rotated around its center, slowly, its leaves sharpening, growing.
William looked down into his hands, covered in blood, changing shape. He smeared them on his shirt and coughed again, fresh blood spattering his palm.
Not Robin’s blood, not bile. His own blood.
His attention was sliding away, but his eyes made the long dangerous journey from his hands, to the wine glass on the floor, and finally, rightfully, to Ferrers.
“The Bishop of Hereford gave me the poison,” Ferrers said, unmoving, leaning against the door frame that curved unnaturally taller. “Gisbourne wanted it for the assassins. He wanted a poison that would take days to work, which I did not agree with. I asked the bishop for one with more immediate results. It made our journey into the forest more interesting, for certain.”
William’s legs slid away from him, or he was already on the ground, he could not track which happened first. He was on his back now, though he was standing upright. The wall had become the floor and his feet only found air.