The man pointing the arrow lowers his weapon a fraction.
I don’t wait for an answer, diving back under, though I dread my efforts will be futile.
A beam of light blooms within the shadows. It’s coming from the stone in Sofie’s ring, intensifying as it expands, stretching out into the darkness like fast-growing vines in search of daylight.
I follow it with bewilderment, all the way to the river bottom, to where long, blond curls float maybe twenty feet below me. The woman is there, motionless, her arms drifting at either side of her lifeless body.
I don’t know how the ring is doing this, but I don’t waste time, propelling myself deeper. I cut through the water with strong strokes to reach the riverbed and inspect the boulder that anchors her. My dismay swells as I take in the thick, silvery cord, shimmering in the ring’s glow. I’ve never seen rope like this, and the knots are intricate. It will take me hours to unravel, hours she doesn’t have, if she isn’t already beyond saving. Could it be cut, if a soldier would give me a blade?
I reach out to test it. My eyes widen with surprise as it disintegrates beneath my fingertips, like spun sugar pulled apart. I don’t have time to dwell on that miracle. My lungs burn with the need for oxygen. I easily brush away the rest of the binding around her legs and, hooking my arm around her waist, I pull her to the river’s surface.
She begins to cough and sputter the moment we reach air, much to my relief.
“You’re going to be fine,” I promise between ragged breaths. I’m faintly aware of shouting and flaming torches along the bridge and riverbed as I grip her tightly with one arm and use the other to paddle us to shore, thankful the swimming lessons of my youth didn’t get lost in my past. By the time we reach the nearest bank, I’m on the verge of collapse from exhaustion, my chest throbbing.
I flop in the mud next to her.
“Annika!” a low male voice filled with anxiety shouts.
“I’m down here!” she cries out before another coughing fit takes over.
Heavy footfalls and the clank of metal approach. A man dressed in black-and-gold armor drops to his knee beside her. His helm covers most of his face, revealing only his mouth and his eyes through a slit.
“You came for me.” She looks tiny next to his menacing form until he yanks his gauntlet off, freeing his hand to smooth the sodden curls off her forehead.
“I thought I’d lost you too.”
She smiles through her jagged breaths. “You nearly did. The sapling anchored me with merth. I doubt you would have discovered me in time. If not for this brave …” Her head lolls toward me and her words fade midsentence. “You.” Her voice drips with horror.
The relief I felt knowing she was alive, that I’d saved her life, morphs to dread. They all think they know me. But unlike with that man, I already sense it won’t be to my advantage this time.
The kneeling soldier turns his attention to me now, and while his face is mostly disguised, the shock is unmistakable. His mouth hangs for a few beats before he gives his head a small shake. “Seize her!” he commands with a roar.
Rough, metal hands grab my arms and haul me to my feet.
The man rises, his gaze never leaving mine. All around us are soldiers gripping swords and waiting quietly. For his next order, I’m guessing. He’s someone important.
Where the hell am I?
The soldier draws a long dagger from his side and approaches, the blade gleaming in the moonlight. “How are you alive?” There is genuine awe in his voice. “I saw your body. I saw where the arrow pierced your heart.” Lifting the dagger tip to my chest, he ever so lightly grazes my skin above the gown’s low neckline. “Your blood is there.”
My body trembles as I look down to where his blade scratched me. Torchlight illuminates the brown stains in the pale gray silk bodice that the river did not wash away.
How do I even begin to explain this to myself, let alone to these people?
“I don’t know who you think I am or what I’ve done—”
“You will address the king as Your Highness,” the man holding me growls in my ear. His painful grip tightens and makes me wince.
Thisis the king. Though I can’t see much of his face, he looks young. A quick scan of those nearby proves that his suit of armor is more finely made, with elaborate designs carved into the gold breastplate.
“Come now, Captain Boaz,” he says with an eerie calm. “We have not yet had time for a coronation, what with Romeria having murdered my father mere hours ago.”
“What?” I gasp, barely a sound escaping. “I didn’t … I haven’t …” My mind spins. This must be Sofie’s doing. What has that devil woman convinced these people I’ve done? “I didn’t murder anyone, I swear. I’m only here because—”
“No more lies!” he bellows, his voice bleeding with anguish. He raises his arm and the dagger high above him, the point angled down, his intentions clear.
“Brother! Stop!” The woman I pulled from the river—he called her Annika—cries out, scrambling to her feet. “She saved me!”