One of these days I need to teach you
how to guard your coin purse better.
Someone might rob you.
I didn’t even know when she managed to slip it in there without me noticing. But each time I found a note, whether it was silly, serious, or flirtatious, I kept it, as sentimental and ridiculous as it seemed. A smarter man would have destroyed every scrap of evidence the moment he read it. A man who wasless hopelessly in love would not have smoothed out each little piece of parchment and hidden it carefully where no one else would find it. But apparently, I was neither smart nor sensible when it came to Laurel.
Even with how busy we both were, we found stolen moments to be together that were never long enough. Laurel snuck into my rooms several times under the pretense of needing to clean. Sometimes we would discuss our plans and strategies, but other times we would just talk until we were about to fall asleep.
On rare occasions, we were able to coordinate so James met with both of us at the same time late at night in the forest. James would listen while Laurel reported what she had learned from John’s rooms, then turn to me for updates on troop numbers, supply movements, and every whispered mention of King Richard. We spoke quietly beneath the trees, with the castle far enough behind us that I could almost forget we had to return to it.
Each time after James left to go report our findings, Laurel and I took the scenic way back.
Those were the best moments of all. It was just Laurel walking beside me with her hand tucked into mine, her fingers warm and sure around my own. We talked about everything on those walks. Some nights, she told me about the ridiculous things the servants had said about me or the way Aalis had nearly fainted when a mouse ran across the pantry. Other nights, we spoke of Sherwood, of her father, and of what England might become when Richard returned and John was stripped of power.
Laurel always spoke of the future as though it was not an if, but a when. There was no doubt in Laurel’s mind that whatever we wanted to do, we could. With her impossible confidence, she somehow made me believe our lives could be anything we chose. Every time I saw Laurel, I fell more deeply in love with her. Shemade me want to become the sort of man who deserved the way she looked at me when we were alone.
I was getting less sleep than I ever had. I had double the work, no family left to claim me, and very few friends beyond Laurel and James. Each day carried the risk of discovery, betrayal, or death, and most nights ended with me staring at reports until the words blurred.
And yet, I was the happiest I had ever been. I was finally the hero in my own story instead of the villain.
LAUREL
My days fell into a familiar pattern. Each morning, I woke early, choked down the disgusting slop the other servants called breakfast, and went about my duties. I cleaned the great hall once the courtiers and royalty finished dining, then tried to minimize the damage left in the mess hall where the lower-ranked servants and soldiers ate.
I always tried to avoid the soldiers when I could. Now that Baron’s platoon had moved into the barracks, there was always the chance I might be recognized. Most men didn’t pay close attention to servant girls, which worked in my favor, but it only took one soldier with a decent memory to ruin everything. So I kept my head down with my hair covered and did my best to remain as dull and unobtrusive as possible.
It was excruciating.
I had to continually remind myself of my role. Baron and I were here to collect information so we could help prevent a war, not to do anything more dramatic. Prince John had grown entirely too comfortable during his brother’s extended absence. His arrogant complacency hung over the castle and I longed to humble him. Every time he spoke of his brother as thoughRichard were already dead rather than still the king, my fingers itched to do something.
James and Baron both continually reminded me that my duty was to maintain my cover and gather any tidbits of information I could until Father returned with King Richard. I wasnotto do anything besides collect information.
I tried to listen but despite the reassurances that our work mattered, I longed for more action in my routine. Scrubbing floors and carrying trays was useful, perhaps, but it didn’t make my blood race. It didn’t make me feelalive. I wanted to feel the snap of a bowstring against my forearm or run until I thought my lungs might burst.
But I managed to do as I was told and besides, the servants themselves were not entirely unpleasant. I could tell Agnes and Walter genuinely did their best to make life bearable for everyone. Agnes was sharp-tongued and had no patience for laziness, but she gave out small rewards for the staff who worked hardest each week. Often it was an extra sweet from the kitchen or the ability to sleep in. Once, she awarded a girl an entire extra day of rest.
On every tenth day, when most of the servants had some time off, Walter would frequently bring in a minstrel or acrobat to perform. The entertainers he hired were usually ones who were either just starting out or down on their luck. Their clothing was patched and shabby, and sometimes their instruments were held together with more hope than craftsmanship, but their eagerness for employment showed in every bow and flourish.
I understood that kind of eagerness. Dale had taught me to recognize performers who were hungry, desperate, or one bad evening away from giving up entirely. Walter seemed to recognize it too, and even when the performances were not especially impressive, he clapped loudly and made sure the servants did the same.
On one such night, I hurried down from Prince John’s apartments. My investigation had yielded no results that day. The only papers I had seen were dull and useless, documents enumerating trade prices with various countries and a list Prince John’s wife had written of all her many complaints about the staff.
Things had been so quiet as of late that I was beginning to wonder if Father would ever come back. I hated not knowing where he was. I hated waiting. It was going to drive me mad. Up ahead, I saw Walter turning a corner and broke into a jog to catch up with him. He heard my footsteps quicken behind him, glanced over his shoulder, then grinned and began to run as well.
“Oh, so that’s how it is?” I called after him. He only laughed and ducked around another corner.
We were nearly back to the servants’ quarters before I finally caught up. “Will you hold still for two seconds, you lout?” I teased, reaching for his gloved hand to pull him to a stop. My grip closed around strangely empty fingers and the glove slid smoothly off Walter’s hand.
I stopped running and froze.
The glove in my hand had wads of cloth stuffed into the spaces where fingers should have been. For a moment, I didn’t understand what I was seeing, then Walter turned toward me, and I saw his exposed hand.
I knew I should look away. I knew staring was rude. I knew better than to let my face show every thought that passed through my mind. But I couldn’t help it. My gaze fixed on his hand before I could stop myself. His thumb was mostly gone, and his fingers were all shortened, each one ending after only one joint.
My stomach twisted. I had heard of mutilation as a form of punishment, but this was my first time seeing the result up closeon someone who stood in front of me, smiling as though it were nothing.
“Quite a piece of work, isn’t it?” Walter said.
