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The locusts and crickets in the trees were loud and annoying. I sat next to Alan and a couple other men, circled around a campfire to keep warm. I didn’t have the safe confines of my carriage until Tuck returned.
I’d seen the direction he took the carriage. I could read the stars well, thanks to my brother. Alan had taken me on a hunt yesterday. Riding over from our last hideaway to this one, I’d marked the roads and trees we passed, noting a few landmarks like a big boulder here, a bend in the road there. Things were starting to come into sharper focus.
The longer I stayed with these men, the more I’d learn. Eventually, I’d have a reasonable understanding of the ebbs and flows of the forest. Before long, I’d know this region of Sherwood Forest as well as I knew the area close to my home.
At least that was my hope.
If I ran now, I’d get lost. But if we changed locations a couple more times, and I could triangulate this spot with the last and the next, maybe it would be different.
These men didn’t know the extent to which I’d lived my life in the woods near my estate. They thought of me as a pampered young noblewoman, who had never gotten her hands dirty.
That couldn’t be further from the truth. I could track. I could hunt. I could forage. If it came down to it, I could survive out here, I believed.
As I stared into the crackling flames, my confidence began to build. I wondered, too, if Sir Guy being hot on our trail was my fault.
What if leaving here ended up benefiting the Merry Men? I could do it to protect them. Or at least I could justify my reason for escaping that way.
Trees rustled nearby.
The Merry Men hopped up from their fires, going to their bows, spears, and swords.
I lurched up to my feet, fear running through me.
Two horses parted the way, clomping into the glade.
My heart soared.
Little John and Will Scarlet sat atop the steeds like gallant knights in shining armor.
My heart caught in my throat when I saw what they had between them, draped over the back of Will’s horse.
A body.
The two men dismounted.
The body hanging over Will Scarlet’s horse twitched.
“Well met, lads,” John said. His eyes found me and punched holes into my soul. “We come bearing a gift, little star.”
Will and John hoisted the body from the horse on either end, setting him down on his knees. A bag was over his face.
Will tore the sack off. “Lo and behold, lordling.”
Peter Fisher’s blond locks flopped and he gasped, sitting back on his tied hands and heels.
His single eye lifted to me, staring with abject horror into my shadowed face, as if he looked upon a winged angel of death—Satan herself, backlit by the campfires and awash in the flames of Hell.
Chapter 27
Robin
Fear and confusion warred with each other in Peter Fisher’s single eye when the bag was ripped off his head. Once he focused on me, noticing who I was, that wide-eyed expression turned to rage. His slack-jawed face tightened, lines creasing near his patch.
For a moment, I had seen the boy this man truly was. The scared child who believed he deserved everything he wanted, and could just take, take, take.
Now, he tried hiding it over his mask of unbridled rage. He went from victim to oppressor in the blink of an eye. He spat on the ground at my feet. “You,” he snarled. His chin twitched and his lip trembled as he noticed the other Merry Men standing around him. “Why are you doing this to me, girl?”
Part of me felt sorry for him. Guilty he was even here, bound on his knees in front of me, at the mercy of my whims.
