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Chapters (76)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. PART I
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. FIVE
  11. SIX
  12. SEVEN
  13. EIGHT
  14. NINE
  15. PART II
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. PART III
  27. TWENTY
  28. TWENTY-ONE
  29. TWENTY-TWO
  30. TWENTY-THREE
  31. TWENTY-FOUR
  32. TWENTY-FIVE
  33. TWENTY-SIX
  34. INTERLUDE
  35. PART IV
  36. TWENTY-SEVEN
  37. TWENTY-EIGHT
  38. TWENTY-NINE
  39. THIRTY
  40. THIRTY-ONE
  41. THIRTY-TWO
  42. THIRTY-THREE
  43. THIRTY-FOUR
  44. INTERLUDE
  45. PART V
  46. THIRTY-FIVE
  47. THIRTY-SIX
  48. THIRTY-SEVEN
  49. THIRTY-EIGHT
  50. PART VI
  51. THIRTY-NINE
  52. FORTY
  53. FORTY-ONE
  54. FORTY-TWO
  55. FORTY-THREE
  56. FORTY-FOUR
  57. FORTY-FIVE
  58. INTERLUDE
  59. PART VII
  60. FORTY-SIX
  61. FORTY-SEVEN
  62. FORTY-EIGHT
  63. FORTY-NINE
  64. FIFTY
  65. FIFTY-ONE
  66. FIFTY-TWO
  67. PART VIII
  68. FIFTY-THREE
  69. FIFTY-FOUR
  70. FIFTY-FIVE
  71. FIFTY-SIX
  72. EPILOGUE
  73. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  74. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  75. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  76. Newsletter Sign-up

The movement twisted the arrow that pinned them together. Robin’s face clenched but he did not scream, unlike his mount. The animal reared up, lost her footing, and stumbled, her back legs crumpling as horse and rider came down in a horrifying crash. The roar, the roar, by God, was tenfold what it was before. The soldiers Robin had stopped pulled their steel and flowed down the garden tiers, a wave of men, then an avalanche, crying vengeance. They crashed not into but through the crowd of bystanders, too dumb to run or yell in their own defense.

William grabbed Robin, kicked the arrow hard to snap its shaft, and pried his leg free of the thrashing horse. This time, Robin cried out. If not from the pain, from having lost control of the situation.

There were more men huddled around than William could count. He stood and unsheathed his bastard sword, swinging slowly over Robin’s body, yelling for everyone to back away. The horse made a startling lurch in an attempt to rise, then screamed something hideous. The fall had given her a grievous injury, too severe for the horse to ever walk on. He plunged his sword deep through the poor beast’s throat, a black river of blood pouring out. The horse’s body spasmed and sunk, kicking as she died. William continued to push men back, and commanded two young footmen to fetch a stretcher.

“I can walk,” protested Robin, unconvincingly. The clamor of riots in the surrounding streets undermined his calm. A glance at the offending rooftop showed the archers had since fled, or moved to defend against the advancing soldiers, or died. Probably some of all three.

“Where the fuck is Craton?” Robin demanded of the nearest man who could possibly know. Craton, a youngish man who was better kept away from combat, should have the king’s horns.

“Yes, good,” William agreed, chiding himself for not thinking the same. He grabbed at the nearest soldiers. “Hold this ground, there! You, I need five men on that terrace. Quickly, barricade that alleyway—no, not alone! In pairs!” He rattled off commands on instinct, ordering men to hold certain areas, to fetch runners, to check behind doorways. He did not care about fortifying the area so much as he simply wanted to give men specific responsibilities. The fewer people willing to join in on the wanton bloodshed, the better. Soon enough those men were barking commands of their own, and down the line. The two foot-soldiers returned with a stretcher, and the three of them lifted Robin onto it.