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“No, I won’t!” I cried. “They’ll kill you!”
Then my uncle put a hand on my chest and shoved me behind him. Hard.
I stumbled back, nearly falling to the edge of the grass. He fixed me with a deadly expression—which momentarily softened with a small smile.
It was a parting smile. The kind a man gives when he knows he isn’t going to see you again.
Tears trickled down my cheeks.
“Get to the stables and fly, my princess. Do what you have to do and finish your mission. Understand?”
I sobbed, nodded, and turned.
And ran like a coward into the field.
Looked over my shoulder to see the three men crowding him, drawing closer, circling him, pouncing at once—
And the barleygrass closed behind me, so I could see nothing and only hear the sounds of metal clanging, the cries of fierce battle.
I fled to the stables to get a horse, trailing blood behind me, my forearm going numb.
All while my uncle, who I had thought betrayed me—lied to me, abandoned me, and stolen my parents’ land for himself—fought to protect my escape.
“Do what you have to do and finish your mission.”
His words played over in my head as I flew like the wind itself.
Chapter 37
Friar Tuck
Icounted the coins, letting them jingle on the table as they landed. Frowning, I said, “This is less than we agreed on, Scratch.”
The sniveling, skinny lad called Scratch showed me a toothless smile. “Times are tough, mate. You know how the Sheriff’s taxes pinch us.”
“Then why are you smiling about it?”
“I always smile.”
“Because you know you’re getting the better bargain.”
Scratch laughed, high and annoying. “I always get the better bargain, Father. But I also take the better risk—I’m the one has to unload these, after all, aye?”
With a sigh, I wrinkled my nose and swept the coins into a leather pouch. I didn’t have time to dally with this mongrel. Shady middlemen always made their way in this world, even as it collapsed around honest folk.
It was part of the trade. The Merry Men had connections with people like Scratch, but that didn’t automatically give us excellent terms. Not to mention, he wasn’t wrong: The debilitating taxes put on us by Prince John and his thugs had made times tight for everyone—illegal fences included.
I was lucky to get rid of the clothes at all. Disperse them so they weren’t tied back to the Merry Men and the Wilford robbery. The heat was on Scratch’s neck now, and he knew it. At least I’d gotten something for coming all the way down here.
Little John and the others wouldn’t be pleased. Half of them hadn’t liked my plan of sewing clothes for the orphans in the first place. I’d told them it was necessary to save our mortal souls—to offset the damage we did outside Nottingham.
Begrudgingly, they had accepted that.
Before I left the tailor’s shop, whose proprietor was nowhere to be seen so Scratch and I could meet, I studied the thin-necked man. “Say, what do you know about this tournament coming up? Archery, is it?”
“Aye,” he said, nodding. “Lots of money to be made. Even if you’re not the winner.”
He was talking of the incessant gambling that would take place. I looked down at the bag of coins and pursed my lips, hesitating. Wondering . . .
