Page 130 of A Kingdom's Heart
heartbeat louder than the one before. The trees ahead swayed and shifted, and for a moment, I thought I might collapse right there on the sand.
Then I saw it. A shadow cut into the cliffside, half hidden by overgrown vines. A cave. Shelter.
“Iris,” I rasped, my voice barely audible. “Over there.”
She turned, following my gaze. The moment she saw it, she nodded and sprinted ahead, her ballgown brushing the sand as she ran. I stumbled after her, the weight of the arrows in my back dragging me lower with every step.
The shouting behind us grew louder. The soldiers were close. Too close.
I forced one more push, each movement sending pain through my chest. My breath came ragged and uneven. I could see her just ahead, standing at the cave entrance, her hand reaching for me.
“Come on!” she cried, her voice desperate.
I reached her. The cool shade of the cave swallowed us, dimming the blinding sun outside. For a second, I felt relief, brief and fragile.
Then my knees buckled. The strength drained from my legs, and I hit the ground hard. The world tilted, spinning around me. I could hear her gasp, could feel her hands on my shoulders, but I couldn’t lift my head.
My chest rose and fell in short, shallow breaths. The sound of
the sea faded into something distant, like a dream slipping away.
Everything grew quiet.
And then, nothing.
CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR
IRIS
My hands were shaking so badly I could hardly breathe.
William lay face down in the dirt, his eyes closed, his back a mess of blood and broken arrows. There were so many of them. Too many. The shafts rose from his skin like dark thorns, the blood pooling beneath him already beginning to soak into the cave floor.
For a moment, I froze. Panic clawed at my chest, and my mind went blank. I wanted to scream, to cry, but I couldn’t. If I lost control now, he would die.
I forced a breath in, then another.
I remembered the hours in the healers’ wing with Raven. How she had made me crush herbs, clean wounds, pack moss into cuts to stop the bleeding. My father had forced me to help back then, to punish me, saying a princess should know the value of healing and pain. I had hated it at the time. Now it was the only thing keeping me from losing him.
I crawled closer, my knees scraping the cold stone, and pressed
two fingers to his neck. His pulse beat faintly beneath his skin. Weak but still there.
“Thank God,” I whispered.
I looked around the cave frantically. There, near the wall, green
moss clung to the damp stone. I ripped it free, squeezing it to drain the water, then turned back to him.
I reached for the first arrow. My fingers brushed the shaft, slick with blood. I hesitated only for a second before gripping it tightly and pulling.
He jolted awake, gasping sharply, his body tensing under my hands.
“Stay still,” I hissed. “Please, they’ll hear you!”
His teeth clenched, his breath coming in harsh bursts. I pressed the moss over the wound and held it there. Blood seeped through my fingers, but I didn’t stop.
“This might hurt,” I warned, pressing the moss deeper into the open wound.
