She turned. And walked away.
The shaking spread to his jaw.
She was not for him. She would not make a good queen. She was too headstrong. She did not understand the needs and responsibilities of the kingdom. His father’s words rolled around in his head.
This was right. He had to let her go.
But why did it hurt so badly?
She did not turn around to look at him before she stepped around the corner.
Somehow, Ian made it back to his room. He had no idea whom he passed in the hall, nor how his feet moved.
As soon as he closed the door to his room, the shaking in his limbs refused to support him any longer. He crumpled to the floor, pounding his fist against the stone.
His face contorted in agony. The unfamiliar burn of tears stung his eyes. And he sobbed, a dry, racking heave he had never experienced before.
It was only a few breaths of this agony before he sat back on his legs, regaining his composure.
This was right. These feelings would fade with time.
He would never cry like that again.
He had been righteous,yes. But also stupidly self-righteous. For as long as he lived, he would always regret not sharing that goodbye kiss. Even if it wouldn’t have changed anything, they had both deserved that one that last moment together. But he had been too caught up with doing what was right to see the goodness in what was right in front of him.
Perhaps it was fortunate, then, that his life was about to end. The beast-man’s hair-covered clenched hand was a mere fist-length from Ian’s face.
His thoughts had spun so rapidly in his mind it felt as though time around him had slowed. And perhaps it had, because he saw it with complete clarity when an arrow entered his narrow field of vision, striking the beast-man’s hand.
The powerful force of the arrow knocked the fist off its course, throwing the beast-man’s swing wide around Ian’s head.
Ian inhaled for the first time since he had initially hit the ground. Shock and energy flowed through his body as the world around him returned to its frantic pace.
The beast-man snarled in pain though the arrow had not even pierced the thick hide of his hand. He spun his head toward its source.
Robin stood in front of the group of Majis, her bow drawn and another arrow ready to fly.
Snarling with rage, the beast-man launched himself toward her across the sand, his legs strong enough to leap despite the full body armor he wore.
Robin released her next arrow, jerking her bow up to aim for his face, but he moved too quickly and it bounced off his armor.
“No!” Ian reached for Robin, but he had neither the time nor muscle to do anything before the man was on her.
“Stop,” Gareth commanded. His voice was directed at the beast-man, but his heavy foot landed on Ian’s chest, forcing him back to the ground.
Ian frantically looked around Gareth’s other foot to see Robin restrained by the massive man, but otherwise unharmed.
Gareth dropped the tip of his sword, resting its weight on Ian’s throat.
Ian stilled at the contact, looking up at the king in confusion. For a man so cruel and bloodthirsty, Gareth was leaning hard into his benevolent manipulation in a way that Ian did not understand.
“The Majis have Returned!” Gareth yelled out to the watching soldiers. He waved his free arm to the huddled group behind him. “I will let them live. They are no threat to us, and we have no need to slaughter the defenseless. But...” He pointed down at Ian, giving his words time to sink in. “The real threat to Iseldis seems to come from within.”
Looking up at the sword that still rested heavily on his neck, Ian noticed that Gareth had extended it with his injured arm. He could see blood drying against Gareth’s golden armor, but perhaps the injury was not as deep as he’d thought if Gareth had recovered so quickly.
“This man is a traitor to his king. He abandoned you when your need was greatest. Does he deserve to live?” Gareth twisted the sword with his wrist, putting his arm into a better position to drive the blade through Ian’s throat.
Without turning his head, Ian strained his eyes to see the line of Iseldan soldiers.
