“Get up at the first bell of the morning. If you sleep in once, it’s a warning. Second time, you’re dismissed. You’ll be trained for one week and then get assigned your own duties. A supervisor will oversee your work. First time it’s inadequate will be a warning, second time you’re dismissed. Understand?”
I nodded, then realized she may not be able to see my head from behind the mountain of fabric hiding me. “Yes, mum.”
“Go on then. Ask for Walter. He’ll assign you sleeping quarters. He’s the one who is always wearing gloves. Scat!” She shooed me away.
So off I went again, arms still full, searching for a man who wore gloves. It felt like an hour before I finally found the right person. Several of the courtiers wore gloves, which was confusing, as I didn’t know what occupation Walter had. Iassumed something to do with servant management, but I knew so little of castle protocol that I was ignorant as to how high of a station that was. The courtiers I did stop to ask cringed away from me as though I was vermin. Most didn’t even deign to respond, clearly affronted that a lowly peasant dared to speak to them.
When I finally found Walter, he assigned me a sleeping area down in the cellar with the other servants. All the other servants were fast asleep by the time I crawled onto my musty smelling straw tick. It was nearly midnight and I only had a few hours to sleep before the bell would sound.
But I was inside the castle.
My mission had begun.
BARON
The Cresswell Crags loomed ahead of me, jagged and horribly familiar against the gray sky. It was a massive limestone gorge with expansive caves pockmarked throughout it, and I hated the sight. I was back, back to the place I had sworn I would never return to, back to the life I’d vowed to abandon forever. Every step up the narrow mountain path felt like a betrayal of the man I had wanted to become. Sebastian, Dominic, and I climbed in silence, the wind biting at our exposed faces, the rocks loose beneath our boots.
“Hey, Sheriff!” Sebastian called out with forced cheer, trying to fill the quiet. “Remember when you and that girl fell from up here?”
“Vividly,” I replied flatly. The memory flashed unbidden through my mind, of Laurel’s scream, the sheer drop, and the way my heart had stopped when I thought I’d lost her. I still hated Dorian for trying to kill her. If he was still with the platoon—and I suspected he was—I intended to make him regret waking up every single morning.
“Shame it didn’t kill her then,” Dominic grumbled.
“As far as I’m concerned, what happened in the past is irrelevant,” I said sharply. “She’s dead now. What matters is what comes next. And that begins with all of us reaching camp in one piece. So watch where your giant feet land, you lummox.”
We continued upward, but the climb felt longer and emptier than I remembered. The only sound came from the whistling wind and the crunch of our boots across the pebbles. At least the path wasn’t icy this time.
When we reached the top, Sebastian called out to the camp. Friendly voices answered then faltered as I came into view. Conversations died mid-sentence and mouths hung open.
“Baron?” one of them said hesitantly. “We thought you left.”
I didn’t bother acknowledging him. I raised my voice so it carried through the canyon mouth. “The Sheriff’s dead,” I announced. “He was murdered by Robin Hood’s daughter and I killed her for it. She was more trouble than she was worth. The former sheriff couldn’t see that until it was too late.”
Shock rippled through the camp for a breath.
“Good!” someone shouted to break the silence. “It was about time!”
More murmurs rose, overlapping each other. “What about the others?” “Where’s the rest of the patrol?”
“We were the only survivors,” Sebastian said somberly.
“Against one girl?” someone scoffed.
“Her father and all his men joined her,” Sebastian said immediately. “We were outnumbered. It wasn’t a fair fight.”
I noticed Dominic lingering at the back, arms crossed, his expression dark. He didn’t defend me but nor had I expected him to.
“What about Baron?” came a wheezy voice. Sneeds pushed forward, his pimply face pinched with suspicion. “Didn’t he run off with the girl?”
Sebastian rounded on him. “No, he didn’t run off with her. He went to bring her back just like he had done all the other times. It was a misunderstanding. When the sheriff was ambushed, he saved our lives—mine and Dominic’s. He killed Robin Hood’s daughter and most of his men. I saw their bodies.”
He repeated the story exactly as I’d told it to him—every detail in place. Coming from someone they trusted, the lie settled more easily. Heads nodded and the tension eased, though not entirely.
“We buried the outlaws,” Sebastian finished, “and returned our dead to their families.”
A heavy, somber silence followed.
Sneeds tilted his head from side to side. “How can we be sure you didn’t turn on us? You were gone for weeks.”
