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He faced me. It was unnerving, staring into that masked mien, unable to read his expression.
I threw my hood back, showing my hair and face in the dim fog. “Do you not recognize me? Do you not remember me, Oliver?”
His face slanted. His eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed, though I couldn’t tell if it was a concerned look or an anxious one underneath that black mask.
I thrust a finger at him. “I don’t care that you won. Good match. I need you to tell me what happened to Robert, though. Tell me what happened to my brother, and how he died!”
I would never forgive myself if I didn’t ask. I didn’t care if he had turned into a callous bastard. I deserved this, at least. My brother had fled my thoughts. He no longer spoke to me, and it pained me.
I needed closure.
Oliver let out a sigh.
Then his body stiffened. His eyes flashed wide.
The man raised his bow at me, arrow already nocked.
My breathing ended on a sharp exhale and a silent gasp. Just as I feared, Guy of Gisborne used this tournament as a staging area to kill me!
He fired his arrow, no less than ten paces from me, and I ducked, knowing this man could never miss me from this distance.
The arrow hissed over my shoulder.
A gurgle and strained croak behind me.
I spun around.
The timer-man staggered, a dagger in his hand, an arrow lodged in his forehead. His eyes rolled wildly as he took his last steps, his brain collapsing from the wound, and he toppled forward.
“Not her, dammit,” said Oliver of Mickley. “Never her.”
Slapping a hand to my mouth in confusion and fear, I wheeled back around to face Oliver.
He had saved me from a would-be assassin.
And his voice . . . so familiar.
Screams broke out in the distance, back toward Nottingham. Muffled, at first—
But growing louder.
Shapes flitted through the trees. Shadows, men, bandits? People ran, dashing toward Nottingham.
The forest came alive with hunters.
How did I not seen them? Was I so entranced by the competition that I missed an army of highwaymen hidden in the trees? And why did the timer-man want me dead?!
“What . . . what is going on here?” I breathed.
The man pulled his mask down to his neck. His lips pursed as he stared at me with narrowed eyes.
Shock made me recoil, colliding with my mind and dizzying me. I staggered, knees nearly buckling.
One word eked from my shaky lips, on a stammer.
“R-Robert?”
Chapter 56
