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“Explain yourself, young lady. Just what have these cretins done to my poor niece, to turn her against me?”
“Nothing!”
He knew it was a lie before it flew from my lips.
So did I.
“I wish I could say more,” I croaked, sniffling, wiping my tears with a forearm. “I have to go warn the Merry Men—someone could be after them.”
“Someone is after them, Robin. Me!”
I choked a sob down and shook my head adamantly, continuing to retreat out of the study. “Uncle, please—who else has seen this map?”
“Does it matter?”
A pause as my stomach roiled.
Then I ran.
I turned, fled, and wailed, “I’m sorry!” on the way out the manor.
Uncle Gregory’s voice carried in the distance: “Wait—Robin!”
I was already gone. Out the huge oaken front door, through the winding garden and courtyard in the front, dashing toward the road—
Where I saw a tall, black-cloaked man speaking to the bald-headed boy in the fields.
I pulled to a stop, gasping, not recognizing the tall man. His back was to me. The boy’s eyes widened in shock as he saw me over the man’s shoulder.
Then his eyes shifted, as if to hide spotting me, but the damage was done.
The man turned around. He wore a dark bycocket hat with a feather off to the side. His face was sleek and malicious. His eyes narrowed.
I locked gazes with the boy. “Run!”
And the man spun around, flicked his wrist.
The boy backpedaled—
And gurgled, clutching his neck as blood sprayed. He fell in the empty field, loyal to the last, and the other serfs screeched and scattered.
I screamed, trembling hands going to my mouth.
Loud footfalls echoed on the road to my right, coming from the bridge—already across it, turning from loud clacks to dull thuds as they landed on dirt.
Three men sprinted toward me, black cloaks billowing behind them.
I darted across the street and into the barley fields, weaving my way through it.
They gave chase. Their strides were long, fast, and they gained on me. I had no chance to hide in the fields because there were too many of them, closing in.
So I ran like all hell. Away from my manor, away from the bloodshed, away from my uncle. He’s betrayed me! These men were sent by him to make sure I couldn’t leave!
I came to an empty part of the field, breath hammering, and froze to gather my bearings.
The stable was a field away, where we kept some horses. I would never make it back to Friar Tuck and the carriage past the bridge with those three bloodhound soldiers barring my way.
So I veered toward the stable—
