Lion Heart
Page 32
The portcullis were raised, the gate open. I heard a noise, something I’d heard before and couldn’t place, a strange, slow creaking.
It weren’t till I were right beneath the gate that I could see through the smoke, and a low knock drew my eyes up.
The pair of boots hit the stone wall again, and then I heard the creaking of the rope that held them as the body twisted in the wind.
Bodies. At least five that I could see, hung over the outer wall of the castle and left to die, left to watch as the city burned.
Robin. Robin. Robin. It were all I could think as I dropped from my horse, running into the guardroom at the gate and searching for the staircase up to the parapet. I were shaking so hard I slipped twice when I tried to climb the stairs, like I couldn’t make my wayward limbs obey. Like my hands and legs didn’t want to bear me up, not if I were going to see his face hanging off the battlements.
I found the first rope and I half leapt off the wall, grabbing as low as I could and heaving up. The rope didn’t move and the edge of the wall cut hard into my stomach. Anchoring my feet, I pulled my whole body back, pulling as hard as I could.
Dead weight. The true, horrible meaning of that struck me, and I felt tears run fast down my cheeks. I jerked hard on the rope and it fought against me, dragging from my hands and tearing my skin with it. I cried out, looking at the raw, bloody mess.
“Damn you,” I grunted, setting back at the rope. “Damn you, God. This is your fault. You were meant to protect them. You were meant to protect him,” I accused. The body moved the barest inch, and I planted my feet against the wall itself, heaving back.
Cold touched my neck, and I looked to the side, to see a tall man in a gray cloak pointing a sword at me. “Drop the rope,” he ordered.
“The hell I will,” I snapped back.
“You will not steal from their bodies,” he growled, pushing the sword against my throat. I felt a trickle of wet run down my skin. “How dare you touch them.”
“You have no idea what I dare. And this isn’t a day that should see any more violence. Who are you?”
“My—” David called, cresting the stairs. He drew his sword quick. “Step away from her immediately, young man.”
The man looked at me. “Her who? Her?” he asked, confused, jerking his head at me.
“David, please help me pull him up,” I begged.
The man with the sword faltered. “Put it away,” David growled at him.
The man obeyed, confused. David took the rope, shouldering me off gentle. “Let go, my lady,” he whispered.
I did. David saw the blood on the rope and looked at my hands. “Pull him up, David. Please.”
He turned back to his task, nodding. In a few short heaves of his long arms, David had the body up at the wall. I let out a tortured gasp—it weren’t Rob.
Allan came up as David pulled him over the battlements, and I cut the rope, crossing the man’s arms and pulling the noose from his neck as David went to the next one. Allan skirted past the body without words to help David.
“You’re just—pulling them up?” the man asked.
“No one deserves this,” I whispered to him.
The man went to the third rope and started pulling. “I know,” he said to me. “That’s what I came here for. To bring the bodies back.”
The second one came into a view. It were a woman, and even though it weren’t Rob, my heart still broke, and I started crying helpless over the bodies.
The third were a boy, so young I thought for a moment it were one of the Clarkes. When I cleaned off his smoke-sooted face, I didn’t know it, and still I cried. It would have been easy for it to be Ben or Will or Jack.
“Rylan!” a voice called. My body ran still, my blood frozen in my veins.
Steps were loud on the staircase.
“Rylan, how—”
Rob’s face appeared above the stair, and his eyes met mine like they were tied together, like there weren’t anywhere to look but at each other.
He stepped up one more stair, blood draining fast from his face.
His chest heaved with sudden breath, and he looked at David and Allan and the man, who must have been Rylan. “No,” he breathed. “You’re not—is this—I’m not—”
“Robin,” I said, and it came out a horrible, broken sob.
Half a breath later he had my elbows in his hands, dragging me up. His fingers were on my face, dirty with tears and smoke, and I dug my fingers into his shirt, trying to sink some part of me into him so deep we couldn’t be taken apart again. His shirt caught the drying blood on my hands and I saw it there, bright on his clothes, blood that I put there. I couldn’t stop crying.
Until he pushed my tears off and pressed my mouth to his. I heard Rylan murmur “Oh” behind us and didn’t pay attention.
Rob were alive. Rob were alive, and I were home.
Whatever that meant in true.
Rob’s arms shifted to hold me round my back, fortressing round me and pulling me tight to him. Our kiss broke and our foreheads pushed together, and then our cheeks, every little motion like a physical proof the other were there. When my forehead slipped into the bit where his neck met his shoulder, a shudder ripped through me.
“You’re alive,” I breathed against him.
His arms squeezed tighter. “I’m not the one who was meant to be dead.”
I curled tighter. “This was meant to kill you, Rob.”
“I know,” he said. “And it didn’t work. And you’re not dead.” He nudged my head up and kissed me again, then stared at my face. “Jesus, Scarlet,” he whispered.
It weren’t till I were right beneath the gate that I could see through the smoke, and a low knock drew my eyes up.
The pair of boots hit the stone wall again, and then I heard the creaking of the rope that held them as the body twisted in the wind.
Bodies. At least five that I could see, hung over the outer wall of the castle and left to die, left to watch as the city burned.
Robin. Robin. Robin. It were all I could think as I dropped from my horse, running into the guardroom at the gate and searching for the staircase up to the parapet. I were shaking so hard I slipped twice when I tried to climb the stairs, like I couldn’t make my wayward limbs obey. Like my hands and legs didn’t want to bear me up, not if I were going to see his face hanging off the battlements.
I found the first rope and I half leapt off the wall, grabbing as low as I could and heaving up. The rope didn’t move and the edge of the wall cut hard into my stomach. Anchoring my feet, I pulled my whole body back, pulling as hard as I could.
Dead weight. The true, horrible meaning of that struck me, and I felt tears run fast down my cheeks. I jerked hard on the rope and it fought against me, dragging from my hands and tearing my skin with it. I cried out, looking at the raw, bloody mess.
“Damn you,” I grunted, setting back at the rope. “Damn you, God. This is your fault. You were meant to protect them. You were meant to protect him,” I accused. The body moved the barest inch, and I planted my feet against the wall itself, heaving back.
Cold touched my neck, and I looked to the side, to see a tall man in a gray cloak pointing a sword at me. “Drop the rope,” he ordered.
“The hell I will,” I snapped back.
“You will not steal from their bodies,” he growled, pushing the sword against my throat. I felt a trickle of wet run down my skin. “How dare you touch them.”
“You have no idea what I dare. And this isn’t a day that should see any more violence. Who are you?”
“My—” David called, cresting the stairs. He drew his sword quick. “Step away from her immediately, young man.”
The man looked at me. “Her who? Her?” he asked, confused, jerking his head at me.
“David, please help me pull him up,” I begged.
The man with the sword faltered. “Put it away,” David growled at him.
The man obeyed, confused. David took the rope, shouldering me off gentle. “Let go, my lady,” he whispered.
I did. David saw the blood on the rope and looked at my hands. “Pull him up, David. Please.”
He turned back to his task, nodding. In a few short heaves of his long arms, David had the body up at the wall. I let out a tortured gasp—it weren’t Rob.
Allan came up as David pulled him over the battlements, and I cut the rope, crossing the man’s arms and pulling the noose from his neck as David went to the next one. Allan skirted past the body without words to help David.
“You’re just—pulling them up?” the man asked.
“No one deserves this,” I whispered to him.
The man went to the third rope and started pulling. “I know,” he said to me. “That’s what I came here for. To bring the bodies back.”
The second one came into a view. It were a woman, and even though it weren’t Rob, my heart still broke, and I started crying helpless over the bodies.
The third were a boy, so young I thought for a moment it were one of the Clarkes. When I cleaned off his smoke-sooted face, I didn’t know it, and still I cried. It would have been easy for it to be Ben or Will or Jack.
“Rylan!” a voice called. My body ran still, my blood frozen in my veins.
Steps were loud on the staircase.
“Rylan, how—”
Rob’s face appeared above the stair, and his eyes met mine like they were tied together, like there weren’t anywhere to look but at each other.
He stepped up one more stair, blood draining fast from his face.
His chest heaved with sudden breath, and he looked at David and Allan and the man, who must have been Rylan. “No,” he breathed. “You’re not—is this—I’m not—”
“Robin,” I said, and it came out a horrible, broken sob.
Half a breath later he had my elbows in his hands, dragging me up. His fingers were on my face, dirty with tears and smoke, and I dug my fingers into his shirt, trying to sink some part of me into him so deep we couldn’t be taken apart again. His shirt caught the drying blood on my hands and I saw it there, bright on his clothes, blood that I put there. I couldn’t stop crying.
Until he pushed my tears off and pressed my mouth to his. I heard Rylan murmur “Oh” behind us and didn’t pay attention.
Rob were alive. Rob were alive, and I were home.
Whatever that meant in true.
Rob’s arms shifted to hold me round my back, fortressing round me and pulling me tight to him. Our kiss broke and our foreheads pushed together, and then our cheeks, every little motion like a physical proof the other were there. When my forehead slipped into the bit where his neck met his shoulder, a shudder ripped through me.
“You’re alive,” I breathed against him.
His arms squeezed tighter. “I’m not the one who was meant to be dead.”
I curled tighter. “This was meant to kill you, Rob.”
“I know,” he said. “And it didn’t work. And you’re not dead.” He nudged my head up and kissed me again, then stared at my face. “Jesus, Scarlet,” he whispered.
