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My jaw clenched. “They wouldn’t.”
“They did.”
“And . . . and you left . . . without me?” I sniffed as I finished, emotions already running rampant. My nose burned. I wrinkled it to keep from crying.
He shook his head sternly. “No, no, don’t lose yourself, Robin. I made a deal with those bastards. They promised not to harm you if I left . . . and I see they kept their end of the bargain. You look fine, if not a bit feral.” He quirked a sad smile.
My face contorted with sudden rage. “They would never make that bargain, Uncle! They would kill you!”
Another headshake. “The man calling himself Little John said he was keeping me alive for your sake. Because he knew how much you loved me.”
“And I do!” The tears burned my eyes now, streaks falling down my cheeks. “But you abandoned me, just like everyone else!” My voice ricocheted off the walls of the small study room, blaring.
“I didn’t!” he cried with a wince, and lifted the paper rag to shake in the air. “I didn’t keep my end of the bargain with them, Robin. I’ve been searching for you for days. I’ve only recently been gifted this . . . this map.”
I stumbled to the table when he laid it flat on the surface. His fingers traced lines across it, and I realized he was right: It was a map.
Of Sherwood Forest.
“This was where we were located when they tied us to that tree. He pointed at a circled location north of Nottingham. “When I returned there the other day, there was no sign of you or the Merry Men.”
“We moved.”
“Where?”
I reeled back. Now that I saw him closer, I noticed the plethora of new wrinkles on his face. The tiredness rimming his reddened eyes.
The man hadn’t been sleeping.
My scale of betrayal began to weigh in the other direction. I ran a finger across the map, along a line, to another circled point. “Here,” I said.
Then it all hit me at once.
There were at least eight circles on the small map, with lines leading from one to the other. Another line I noticed led to our current location, the witch’s cabin, which I was not about to point out.
I struggled to keep my mouth from falling open—to hide my shock. This is a map of the Merry Men’s routes and hideaways!
My stomach dropped to my boots as the revelation sank in. I stared up at Uncle Gregory’s face. He was looking down, still speaking, yet his words were drowned away.
“Where did you get this map?” I blurted.
His lips stopped moving midsentence. They closed and folded into a thin line. “Maid Emma, of all people. Where she received this map, I cannot say, Robin. I’m sorry.”
Emma? But how would she get this? “You must! Uncle, the Merry Men have a traitor in their midst!”
At that, his head slanted with utter bafflement.
My voice ended on a wheeze. I’ve just admitted . . . too much. Oh, God, what have I done?
“And?” he snarled. “Why would a prisoner care if her captors are being betrayed? You should be overjoyed, lass.” His hand darted out and closed around my wrist. “Stay here, Robin. You’ve finally returned to me. I can keep you safe. We can hunt those bastards down together!”
“U-Uncle!” I wailed, and ripped my wrist free of his hold. He sounded God-touched, stark-raving mad.
I backpedaled, retreating—but not before sweeping low and snagging the map from the table while he stared blindly at me.
My uncle looked struck. Like I was betraying him.
“I’m . . . I’m sorry, Uncle Gregory. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” I stuffed the map in my tunic.
