The attacking war galleys took advantage. They picked up speed, came racing through the waves towards them, the windsuddenly veering around and filling their sails as though even the elements were on their side.
The king’s ships were slow in turning to face this threat. They had lost the wind and many of them began to wallow side to side as they struggled against the unruly waves.
The first Ulster galley slammed into the flank of one of the king’s ships with a sound like splintering bones. Wood screamed. Men shouted. The sea surged in, white with foam.
Phillip rounded on Elise, his eyes burning with fury. “Do something!” he bellowed. “Destroy those ships!”
Elise stared at him, her heart pounding so hard it felt as though it might burst from her chest. But she shook her head defiantly. “Not a chance.”
Phillip blinked, as if he hadn’t heard her properly. “What did ye say?”
“You heard me! I won’t do it! I won’t be your weapon!”
“Those are Ulster ships, woman! They will sink this ship and send ye down to the deeps with the rest of us!”
“I don’t care!” she bellowed, hands fisted at her sides. “Rather that than become your pet monster!”
An impact rocked the deck. A man howled in pain as he was thrown against the rail. Arrows hissed through the air. A ballista bolt thudded into the water close enough that spray soaked the deck beneath Elise’s feet.
Phillip leaned closer, his voice dropping. “Ye misunderstand me, Elise. I’m notasking.”
She shook her head, backing away from him until the cold rail pressed into her spine. “You can’t make me. It doesn’t work like that.”
“Oh? We’ll see.” He barked an order over his shoulder. “Bring them up.”
Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs and two king’s men emerged on deck, dragging a pair of struggling figures between them.
Elise’s breath left her in a strangled gasp as she recognized them. “Martin? Bryn?”
The lads’ heads jerked up at the sound of her voice. Martin’s face was pale beneath the grime, his hair plastered to his forehead. Bryn looked worse—his lip split, one eye already swelling shut—but when he saw Elise, relief flickered in his eyes, sharp and bright.
“Elise!” Bryn croaked. “Thank the saints!”
“What are they doing here?” Elise demanded, rounding on Phillip. “They’ve got nothing to do with this!”
“On the contrary. They’ve got everything to do with this. They are here to act as yer…how shall I put it? Incentives.”
The soldiers hauled the lads over to the rail.
“Get your hands off them!” Elise bellowed.
Phillip caught her arm, his grip iron hard. “I had hoped it wouldnae come to this, I really did. But yer stubbornness leaves me no choice.”
He gestured to the sea in the direction of one of the Ulster galleys that was bearing down on them.
“Throw them over,” Phillip commanded.
The soldiers hoisted Martyn and Bryn over the rail and tossed them into the sea.
Elise screamed, tore her arm from Phillip’s grip, and leaned over the rail, frantically searching the heaving gray water below. Two heads broke the surface, arms flailing as the swell dragged them apart.
The Ulster ship sped closer—right towards the spot where Martin and Bryn were struggling.
Elise’s heart felt like it would burst in her chest. “Oh God,” she sobbed. “Please—please—”
There was no more space for thought. Only terror and fury and a single, desperate need clawing its way up from somewhere deep inside.
Save them.
