 
Book One

### Arboreal

An Into the Forest Novel

by S. E. Roberts

Arboreal, Book One, Version 7 (2017)

Copyright 2017 by S. E. Roberts

Published by S. E. Roberts at Smashwords

Previously published as Sherwood by S. E. Roberts

Photo provided by Shutterstock.com and edited with Canva.com

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for your support

### Arboreal

/ärˈbôrēəl/

adjective

1.Of or relating to trees.

### Arboreal Playlist

Hands Like Houses - No Parallels

Hands Like Houses - I Am

Kyoto Drive - So Much Alive

Alessia Cara - Scars To Your Beautiful

Elias - Cloud

Amber Run - I Found

Andrew Belle - In My Veins

Hands Like Houses - Torn

Imagine Dragons - Bleeding Out

### Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

About the Author

An Excerpt From Inflame

### Prologue

When people think of outlaws, they think of grimy men who steal out of sheer greed.

When I think of outlaws, I think of blood.

Not in the way that other people do, as a gateway to the afterlife – the manifestation of our demise.

Before Sherwood, blood had been the reminder of how hard you must fight to survive, how difficult it was to protect yourself – the cost of war.

When other people were tilling fields, working on woven baskets, or raising children, I was looking around for knights. I was always glancing over my shoulder, ready for someone to catch me. No one ever did, but that never stopped me from thinking about it – blood – and, the way I could make it spill from someone's body if I needed to.

After Sherwood, I saw blood when I fought, when I laughed, when I cried.

Blood had come to mean two things: life, and what it meant to really live.

I saw it pouring from the severed veins of the men I'd killed, but I also saw it when my pulse pounded during training, when I was running through the trees, when I couldn't stop laughing at some ridiculous comment.

But, I only saw it when I felt alive.

That hadn't happened until I had careened into the outlaw's camp. Then, I realized that blood is life, and I had never actually lived until I met them. They were violent – brutal, when needed – but, they were carefree. They showed me what it felt like to live.

When people see outlaws, they see dirty, self-serving lowlifes.

I see blood.

### Chapter One

I could feel my pulse in my throat and the anger that rose from the pit of my stomach. Tears burned behind my eyes but I refused to let them drop. I felt the crinkling parchments in my palm as if they were a hot blade cutting my skin and searing my flesh.

My feet pounded on the thin layer of snow and iced grass as I stomped across the space between the barn and the house. I gripped the doorknob with an iron grasp and threw it open so hard it banged against the wall on the other side. My father startled, looking away from the stew he was working on and watching me like I'd just let our livestock loose. I ignored the glare and slammed the now-crumpled parchments onto the kitchen table. The table shook and wobbled on uneven legs while I put my hands on my hips.

I tried to slow the uncontrollable rage in my veins, but none of my usually comforting thoughts quenched it. My throat itched with anger and my eyes burned with unshed tears over the betrayal I felt building in the pit of my stomach. "What the hell is this?"

My father gave me a stern look, as if I shouldn't use that language in his house.

Yeah, right. He spoke like that, too. Why couldn't I?

"This was private."

I wanted to laugh. "You put it in the barn! Did you think I wasn't going to find it?! Did you think you could pawn me off onto one of the village men and be done with me?!"

My father's face grew dark and I knew his anger was simmering just under the surface.

I should be careful.

"Harlow, we've talked about how marriage isn't an option for you before. I was not going to pawn you off."

"How am I supposed to be sure you haven't changed your mind about my marriage status? Are you or are you not thinking about leaving me here to go fight in Sherwood Forest? Are you not thinking about rejoining Robin's Merry Men and leaving me behind to deal with the farm and village all by myself?" I scoffed and flicked the parchments on the table with my fingertips, "because Robin Hood sure as hell thinks you are."

"Watch your mouth, Harlow!" My father looked from my face and then down to the papers sitting crumpled up on the table. I knew that face. He was thinking, and if he was thinking of what to tell me, I knew it wasn't going to be good.

I winced for a moment at my father's booming voice but regained my anger-based courage within seconds. "Why the hell should I? It's not like you'll be around much longer!"

My father drew in a deep breath, and just when I thought we were going to be battling it out in a shouting match, he exhaled.

Something was holding back his anger, and that was the first sign that something was deeply wrong. If things were normal, he'd already be thundering at me for accusing him and using foul language, but here he was, looking at me like he was actually afraid to say something.

My father was Harrison McBride, former Sherwood Outlaw and right-hand to Robin Hood. He was a large man, built like an oak tree in it's prime, with graying brown hair and a beard that spoke of his age and wisdom. He wasn't quick to anger, and ultimately never liked violence. Ever since I was a child, his angry voice was enough to make me listen to him, but he had never once resorted to spankings or violence toward me or anybody. He always preferred to listen to my childish rantings than scream and yell. The yelling was always saved for when I'd done something really wrong, on purpose.

So, the fact that I defied him with my foul language after he'd already warned me, and he wasn't yelling at me for my disobedience was a little off.

And, I realized as he leaned against the wall, folded his arms over his chest, and looked down at his shoes for a moment while he thought of what to say, that there was something he was trying so desperately to avoid saying.

"This is a lot more complicated than you, Harlow."

My blood simmered like the stew behind him, and I already knew my voice was going to drip with sarcasm before I even let the words go: "What could be more complicated than leaving behind your only child so you can relive your glory days?"

There it was: the rage that was barely masked behind my father's careful, patient demeanor. As quickly as the mask slipped, he pulled it back into place. Placing his palms on the wobbly table, he looked at me with calm quietness. "I'm not trying to get rid of you."

"It sure as hell looks like it."

"You're my daughter, Harlow. You know that you are very precious to me." My father gritted his teeth as he said the words.

"Precious enough to abandon, it seems." I tilted my head and smiled at him sarcastically. "Are you really going to do this?"

"Nothing is set in stone."

"Come the hell on, father!" I threw my hands in the air and spun around to look at the wall and gain my composure. Turning back to face him again, my anger hadn't dissipated. "We both know that's not true!"

The sarcasm in my voice caught him for a moment. He tilted his head at me then and looked over my angry expression. "Do you think I like this? Do you think I'm looking for ways to leave you behind? Have you forgotten everything I have done to protect you?"

Taking in a deep breath, I placed my hands on my hips. He was right. He'd done a lot to protect me throughout my entire life. So, why was he trying to get rid of me now?

"No. I haven't forgotten everything you've done for me. Which is why I have to question why you're so willing to drop me from your life."

"I'm not dropping you from my life. I'm trying –"

I held up my hand and stopped him. "So, what do you call this then? To me, it looks like you're getting rid of me."

My father's eyes iced over with a thinly-veiled rage.

Oh no. I realized at that moment that I had worn the patience out of my father, and now that it was gone, it would be a while before it came back.

"You are my daughter, Harlow. I do not answer to you. You need to learn your place."

It felt like I'd been slapped even though I knew that I had crossed the boundary first. I reared back, looking at my aging father with his graying hair and the fierceness in his eyes. Fierceness that I'd somehow acquired, but was forbidden to utilize. I let my hands drop from my hips and raised my eyebrow at him. Turning away from him, I scoffed and snatched a basket off the counter and the coin pouch next to it. "I'll go get some fruit from the market, because apparently, that's my place."

I slammed the door on my way out and tried not to think about the stinging words. My place? He wanted me to learn my place? I thought that this whole time we'd been living in Dexthorpe that my place was working the fields beside my father and providing for the village people who couldn't afford to buy food for their families – not that some of them deserved my help. I knew I was different, but now, I wasn't so sure I even belonged here anymore.

Trudging along the dirt pathway toward the village, I found myself sulking at everything around me. I used to think the trees swayed beautifully in the wind, but now it looked like they were dancing to a sad ballad.

I spent the next hour picking through fruit and vegetables in the marketplace, and then another twenty minutes stalling and admiring some of the weaving work that some of the women in town had done. It was all very beautiful work and for only a split-second I wished I had the aptitude to learn the skill.

Sighing, I turned back toward home and let myself feel the weight of not being good enough again. I'd never truly felt like I'd been liked by anybody in Dexthorpe, and I knew I felt that way because it was true. When I was a young girl, I preferred doing the laborious work in the fields instead of staying home and cooking or weaving, I roughhoused with the young boys instead of admiring dresses with the girls, and I once wore a pair of trousers to the market instead of a dress. Nobody sold to me that day. The way they stared at me like I was a heathen worshiping a golden idol was humiliating. So, I never wore the trousers again – even if they were far more functional.

I stood still, taking inventory of all the items in my basket. I had all the vegetables that my father had asked for, and plenty of fruits to eat in between meals.

"I cannot believe they'd actually walk through town like they aren't criminals!"

I usually didn't listen in on other people's conversations, but that was catching. I turned my head and caught a glimpse of two women, close to my age. I knew them. Hell, I'd grown up with them – Annabeth and Abigail Baker. I never liked them, but I couldn't stop myself from wondering what they were talking about. Criminals? In Dexthorpe? That was rare.

"Let's just hope they leave soon. I've heard the stories about that no-good leader of theirs. He killed Guy of Gisborne, you know."

I raised an eyebrow at that. I knew that name: Guy of Gisborne. If I was remembering my father's stories correctly, Guy of Gisborne was a man that Robin Hood had brutally beheaded. The gruesome details always disturbed me, but it had captivated me too. What kind of people were Robin and his men? My father had been one of them, but he had never been brutal – to anyone.

I let my jaw fall open a little bit, my brunette hair swinging around my face as I turned to look behind me and in the direction the women had come. If their complaints held any truth, that meant there were outlaws here.

Taking in a small gasp, I glanced around. Not in this exact spot, it seemed, but they had to be here somewhere.

My feet took me forward, following the dirt path as it turned and twisted toward the town center, and if I knew anything about outlaws, toward the inn. I rounded two corners before I spotted them – because they stuck out like a rose in the winter snow.

Two men stood there, laughing boisterously with each other, clad in the brown and green colors reminiscent of the deep forest. They wore some brown leather armor on their chests, and had bows and quivers at their backs. Sheathed swords sat at their waists, and I watched as their hands never strayed too far from the handles. One man wore a small dagger in a makeshift holster attached to his right thigh.

I watched as one of the men – the younger one who had shorter brown hair and a boyish charm about him – said something and the other man punched him on the arm, causing them both to let out more semi-loud chuckles.

Everything about them looked so...carefree. It was like they didn't care that they were making a scene – that everyone was watching them. It was daunting that they could be covered in weaponry and feel freer and more at ease than I did.

I shook myself out of my daze and walked toward the side of the town hall building, hovering at its edge, alternating between looking over my goods and glancing up at the men.

They didn't move around too much, and I wondered for a moment if they were waiting on someone, but when I looked back up the third time, they were gone. The place where they stood was vacant, and not even a leaf was out of place.

I looked around, confused. They weren't anywhere I could see, and I knew for a fact that they had just been right there.

Glancing around, I decided that out of all the places the two could have disappeared to, the left was the most likely. Not only was it much closer than the right corner, but it was less crowded. I didn't get the impression that their business in town was an affair that needed more than necessary attention.

I pretended to be occupied with my basket, counting something enthusiastically, while I rounded a corner to my left. Somehow, it still shocked me when I turned the corner and caught a hint of green in my peripheral vision. Then, I slammed right into the hard body of another person.

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry," I blurted out.

For somebody who was raised by the infamous Harrison McBride, I was extremely unaware of everything around me. Amateur, I scolded myself as I looked over the man I'd walked into.

I bent down, keeping my eyes cast away from him until I was sure I could put on an innocent front – not that I wasn't innocent. I hadn't done anything wrong, but... watching them now felt like I was violating someone's privacy or something. "My mistake."

"I hardly consider running into a beautiful woman a mistake." The man said, his voice rumbling with a quiet confidence, and it came from him like waves came from the ocean. He was kneeling in front of me, his face only inches from mine as he took produce from the ground and put it back into my woven basket.

I felt dazed by the comment and before I could think better of it, I turned my eyes to look at him. His bronze hair was somewhere between long and short, coming down to the nape of his neck and curling at the ends, but remaining short above his eyes. My breath caught when I saw the way his lips curled into a smirk on me and how his eyes never faltered on mine. He owned a handsome face and a leather strap sat around his neck, dipping into the collar of his shirt.

Handing me the last fruit from the ground, I offered him a small smile and took the produce from his palm. "Thank you," I said, finding an excuse to look at my basket.

"You're very welcome," He spoke again and my stomach turned weak.

What the hell? I wanted to roll my eyes at the ridiculousness going on in my body. Really? The man was just another outlaw, and it wasn't like I'd never met one before. Why had I even come here?

He tilted his head a bit to see my eyes, which were still sitting on my basket while I tried to reclaim the anarchy happening in my soul. "I've been here before, but I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you."

I turned my head up at his words, an eyebrow raised skeptically at him. "I've never seen you here before."

This too-handsome man shrugged his shoulders and gave me a smirk. "I'm here on occasion."

Saying nothing, I eyed him. He was probably far too young to know my father, which meant invoking the name of Harrison McBride – Outlaw General and Robin Hood's right-hand man – would probably do nothing. I had always liked to believe that I was a good judge of character, but there was something about this man that I couldn't quite pinpoint. I hadn't been able to pinpoint his partner either, but, to be fair, I hadn't spoken to him.

"I'm Enders Hode," he pointed back to his partner, "and this is my friend, Alton Bennett. Will you tell me your name so I can thank God for my good fortune?"

My heart stuttered to a halt for a moment. His words were so ludicrously sweet, and I remembered laughing at the other men as they spoke like this to some of the women around the village, but no one had ever said it to me. And, it didn't help that my legs felt a little like they were struggling to keep their strength in his presence.

Get it together, Harlow! I mentally screamed at myself while I took a split second to think.

Clearing my throat, I attempted to regain my composure.

Maybe he did know my father, and there would be no way to know for sure unless I casually mentioned his name...or maybe even just my surname. "Harlow McBride." I blurted it out before I gave it a second thought.

Shite. I shouldn't have done that. It was my father's biggest rule: "do not tell anyone your name." He'd said it a million times while I was growing up.

I saw it the moment it happened, though, and I couldn't help the strike of pride I felt at the look on his face: he knew my father – or at least he knew of my father.

This man, Enders, stared at me for what I knew was a second too long with an expression that I still couldn't place. Was he scared? Nervous? Surprised?

"I see," Enders recovered quickly, pulling his smirk back into place and looking at me like he couldn't get away fast enough. "It was so lovely meeting you, Miss Harlow McBride."

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep my smile from making it to my lips as he bowed his head at me and walked away, his partner – Alton Bennett – following him. I turned toward the direction they went in, watching as they left the marketplace and headed for the inn again.

It took everything inside me to suppress the envy I felt at the way they were free to come and go, to watch them with solely curious eyes and not eyes that wanted what they had. A sadness fell over me as I watched Alton ask Enders something, Enders answer, and Alton start laughing like he wouldn't be able to stop.

The only thing that stopped me from giving into the sadness was the look on Enders' face when he turned his head back and took one more look at me. His eyes found mine, and while I know I was watching him with healthy skepticism and barely masked envy, he was watching me with a weird mix of emotions – anxiety and uneasiness being the chief among them.

It was strange to me, though, because when his eyes collided with mine, I felt like there was hope that I could be that free too – that I could laugh in the open without feeling a thousand eyes judging my every move and mocking my every word. His anxiety made me feel almost powerful, because somehow my presence made him feel less lively. I think that made me a bad person, but I didn't care. I wanted that freedom. I wanted that happiness and that cheer.

Then, his eyes left mine, and I stood there feeling empty and missing the minuscule control that this strangers gaze made me feel – if only for a moment.

* ~ * ~ *

I spent another twenty minutes browsing the marketplace without any intention to buy anything. I was wasting time because the last thing I wanted to do was go home and deal with figuring out what my place was.

My feet pushed past the wine stall that one of my neighbors sold his wares from and rounded a corner onto the long road that lead me home. I was only about five minutes away when I saw Annabeth and Abigail Baker standing there, talking to a man from the village. The man was only a year or two older than me, but I was acutely aware of the fact that there were three people who didn't like me very much standing between me and home, where the only person who ever really loved me was.

The strike of panic that swept through my limbs was so strong I felt my feet falter as I walked forward. I cleared my throat – a habit I found that I had when I felt uncomfortable – and decided to keep my eyes pointed downward.

I attempted to pass them unnoticed, but the second I was close enough to hear them, I heard the shrill shriek of Annabeth's voice on the wind, "Harlow!"

My eyes turned up in a show of bodily mutiny. "Annabeth," I nodded a greeting at her, but I kept my feet moving and returned my eyes to the ground after only a second.

A pair of feet came into my vision and I forced my own feet to come to a stop. I already knew who it was before I turned my eyes up to look at him. I didn't know his last name, but everyone called him Aaron. He was tall with short hair, and he always looked at me like I was dirtiest piece of waste he'd ever seen. "Harlow McBride."

The way he said my name gave me chills of disgust and my stomach did a grotesque flip. Nothing good came from this man – not to me anyway. "Hello, Aaron."

He looked over me for a moment with eyes that lingered a little too long on my skin. He placed his hands on his hips for a moment. "We heard you were talking with outlaws in town."

I raised an eyebrow at him and feigned ignorance. "Outlaws? That's a little strange. Do outlaws even know this village exists?"

Aaron tilted his head at me. "I'm certain that they do because we see them quite often." Stepping closer to me, he whispered into my personal space with breath that smelled too much like alcohol. "We don't talk to them, though, and I want to know why you were talking with them."

Pushing the bile back down my throat, I looked away from him and tried to breathe in fresh air. The back of my palms felt sweaty and a surge of anger rose in the pit of my stomach. "Back away from me."

Aaron laughed, taking another step into my space, his chest only an inch from touching mine. Abigail stifled a laugh behind him and I heard Annabeth shush her.

Nothing measured up to the desire building in my chest to slam my fist into Abigail's face, but I told myself to focus on one crisis at a time, and the crisis before me now was Aaron's sickening face and breath smothering me in their proximity to my body. "Back away from me, now."

He smirked at the way my voice wavered in my demand. "Not until you explain yourself to me. Why were you talking to those outlaws?"

The pressure in my chest built to an all-time high and, unable to stand his closeness anymore, I ground out through gritted teeth: "Get away from me. I won't say it again."

Aaron chuckled, his smile making a cold panic crawl up my spine. "Or what, Harlow?"

The panic I'd felt a moment ago shrunk down and was replaced with anger at the fact that this man thought he could just put himself in my personal space. The fact that Aaron thought he could violate another person's privacy was rage-inducing, and that rage was boiling up my throat.

Dropping my basket of produce, I moved quickly, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him toward me. I was one-hundred percent certain he was misinterpreting my intentions, but there was no mistaking it when I lifted my knee and let it collide with his gut, pulling his head down so he was bent over.

He let out a loud yelp of pain, backing away from me, but not falling to the ground. He made an angry noise in the back of his throat as he worked to stand back up.

I ignored the screams of Annabeth and Abigail and refused to let Aaron get back up because I knew he would be angry and that wouldn't be a good thing for me. So, when Aaron pulled himself to a semi-standing position, I hopped back on my right leg and threw my weight forward on my elbow, letting it collide with the side of his face.

Aaron yelled out in a mix of anger and pain and fell to the ground, his hands cupping his nose and blood seeping through the cracks of his fingers.

Wasting no time, I picked up my basket in a flurry and bolted down the road, the annoying hem of my dress dancing around my ankles as my feet pounded on the path. Behind me, I heard the terrible expletives yelled at me carried on the wind, but all I wanted – needed – was to get back home. I didn't belong in Dexthorpe, and maybe I didn't fit in at home anymore either, but I knew that at least I'd be safe there.

*~*~*

When I finally stood in front of my home, I made no move to enter the building, staring at the door like going through it was the last thing I wanted to do.

Aaron and the girls were very far behind me and I knew they wouldn't come this close to my home for fear that my father might see them. It was obvious how afraid some of the village people were of my father, and I thanked God every day that at least he stood beside me. I would need that support, because the entire village would know about Aaron's broken nose in no time. Hell, everyone probably already knew that I'd personally introduced his chin to my elbow.

The older women would have a fit about it, and I had no doubt that their husbands would be having a stern conversation with my father about my actions. No one would care to hear my story, so there was no point in telling it, other than to my father really.

The argument I had with him still rang in my ears, and even though it had only been a little over two hours since that quarrel, it felt like a lifetime ago. What I was really worried about now was trying to convince my father that I didn't throw my arm at Aaron without provocation. He'd believe me.

Right?

God, I hoped he'd believe me.

Taking in a deep breath, I walked up the stairs and through the front door, opening it with a quiet creak. My voice was quieter than I'd intended when I spoke: "I'm home."

"Harlow!" My father's voice carried on from the kitchen. He stepped into the main room and looked over me. "Where have you been? You had me worried."

I cleared my throat and shrugged. "I went to the market."

I didn't think I wanted to tell him about Aaron yet...

"I know that, but you don't usually..." I turned my eyes to my father as he stepped forward and tilted his head to look down at me, "what's that on your face?"

Turning my head up at that, I knitted my eyebrows together. "What?"

My father grabbed my chin in a stern but harmless grasp, moving my face from side to side so he could examine my cheeks. I kept my eyes on his and saw as concern and fury laced within him. "You have blood on your face."

I cleared my throat and moved away from him. "I think it's tomato or something."

He narrowed his eyes on me, unrelenting. "I was an outlaw, Harlow. I know blood when I see it." Grabbing a towel, he poured water on the corner and rubbed the wet cloth on my cheek. Looking me over again, he scrunched his eyebrows together and relaxed his tense shoulders. "It's obviously not yours, so tell me what the hell happened."

I plopped the woven basket onto the table and let myself collapse into a chair. "Aaron and the Baker girls stopped me on the way home."

"Stopped you?"

I cleared my throat again. "They blocked the road. Aaron wanted to know why I was talking to outlaws in town..."

I kept my eyes on the floor, but I felt the way the air around me became tense and irregular. I felt the way my father stopped moving altogether, stopped breathing, and stood there staring down at me like I was a petulant child.

"Outlaws, Harlow?"

I couldn't bring myself to speak, so I only nodded an affirmation.

"Outlaws?! Which outlaws? What did they look like? Did you get their names?"

I closed my eyes tightly and then opened them again. "It was only for a moment. I was walking and accidentally bumped into one of them near the inn. He said their names were Enders Hode and Alton Bennett."

I watched my father become still as stone, as if he'd been slapped by the names. He kept staring at me with this dumbfounded expression that he rarely ever used. "Are you certain those were their names?"

I nodded. "Absolutely."

Pinching the bridge of his nose, my father paced to the door frame joining the main room and kitchen. He leaned his body on the frame as if he couldn't bear to hold himself up anymore. "Did you tell them your name?"

I swallowed because I knew the correct answer was yes, but the answer he wanted was no. I opened my mouth to speak and found myself at a loss for words.

How do I explain to my father that I told the outlaws my name? That was the one thing he'd never wanted me to tell strangers – my name – and I blew that without even thinking about it.

"You told them your name?!"

I took in a huge gust of breath. "It happened too fast! He asked my name and I blurted it out without thinking about it! I was only watching them and I didn't want to speak to them! I thought if they knew you they'd leave me alone!"

"We've talked about this so many times, Harlow!" My father's thunderous voice shook the wood foundation at my feet. "My name doesn't do anything! To the right people, yours does!"

"They were really very young and I didn't think they'd even know who you were, never mind me."

"They absolutely know who I am, Harlow." My father muttered the words.

I arched an eyebrow, wondering if he even intended for me to hear that.

My father stood there, pinching the bridge of his nose again and trying to calm his breathing. He was counting to ten and then backwards to one, trying to regain the calmness that was so reminiscent of him.

I wrestled with the idea of asking him, and decided to blurt out the question: "What do you mean they know who you are?"

"I've met Enders Hode and Alton Bennett many times. They may be young, but they know what they are doing. Do you understand the seriousness of what you've done!?"

I rubbed my hands over my face in exasperation. Then, looking at my father's angry and concerned expression staring down at me, I shouted: "No! I don't understand! I need you to explain it to me!"

"You know about your bloodline!" My father roared at me. "You put yourself at risk every single time you say your name!"

I sat there, scowling and looking to the side. "I didn't ask for this!" I shot out of my chair and looked my father dead in the eye. "I didn't ask to be this sheltered little girl! I didn't even ask to be born! Everything would have been better if I hadn't been!"

I watched as my father's eyes softened as he looked at me. "That's not true."

Running a hand through my hair, I scoffed and looked at the floor as I paced to the left. "Yes, it is." I looked back up at him. "What kind of life is this? All I do is go to the market, listen to the terrible things the people say about me, and do chores around the house. I will never have a normal life."

"Yes, you will, Harlow."

"When, then? When will I be able to live like a normal, free person?"

I let my eyes dig into my father, staring at him with the dying fire of my soul, because that's what was happening to me: I was dying here. Not physically, of course, but emotionally because life here felt pointless. I had one reason to be here, and if he left to go back to Robin Hood's band of men, I'd be all alone. My life had only been one disappointing mess after another since I could remember.

My father's eyes dulled and the pain he felt knowing that I was suffering here was written all over him. He backed away and leaned against the wall. "I'm sorry, Harlow. I know this isn't the life you wanted. You know how wonderful I believe you are and I was wrong to tell you to learn your place."

I shrugged and then shook my head. I didn't say anything, because what was there to say? I couldn't tell him he was right to say it because my pride would mutiny if I did, but I couldn't tell him he was wrong either. I was painfully aware that I wasn't like the other women my age – all the girls I'd grown up with were married and had children. I, on the other hand, didn't have that option – my father had explained that to me when I turned sixteen and an older man had asked for my hand.

" _Your bloodline," he told me, "makes you unavailable for marriage."_

I didn't think much of it at the time, but here we were and I hadn't had another proposal since then. I didn't think I was so hard to look at that absolutely no one would be interested. Then again, I was not a suitable candidate anyway. Especially not after assaulting Aaron today.

My father pushed up from the wooden frame and came toward me, putting both of his hands on my cheeks and peering down at me. "I love you, Harlow. I only want what is best for you, and I am not trying to get rid of you. Believe me when I tell you that you will be happy someday."

I felt the sting of tears behind my eyes, but suppressed the urge to let them fall. I nodded and sniffled.

Pulling away from me, my father looked down at me. "So, how did you get blood on your face?"

I exhaled, defeated. "The Baker girls and Aaron wouldn't let me go without an explanation as to why I was talking with the outlaws, so I may have struck Aaron..."

"May have?" He arched an eyebrow.

I nodded. "I did. He wouldn't back away from me."

My father nodded and looked over my face again, and then down my arms to check for more blood. "How much did he bleed?"

I shrugged. "A lot. I think I broke his nose. I used my elbow – the way you taught me."

My father smiled and kissed the top of my head. "Good girl."

I felt a little taken aback at the endearment. "You're not mad?"

"You defended yourself when someone intended to make you physically uncomfortable. I'm proud of you." Turning away from me and toward the stew, he spoke, "why don't you go get cleaned up and I'll finish the food?"

"What about the village? What will the people say?" I wrung my hands in apprehension.

My father shook his head, his jaw tensing. "Don't worry about that. I will take care of them."

I nodded, but I didn't move, staring at a random piece of wood with thoughts flying through my head.

My father glanced back, seeing me still standing there, and walked toward me. "Harlow," he said, capturing my attention. "Everything will be fine. Go clean up and we will eat."

I felt like my stomach was full of rocks, but I nodded and walked to my room.

I plopped down on my bed, sitting there for a while, holding my head in my hands. I saw the speckles of blood on my palms and tried to rub them away but they clung to me like dirt on my soul.

I didn't like the feeling of hurting another person. I didn't like inflicting pain, but I would do what it took to protect myself. I guess that's how selfishness works.

I shrugged and took a cloth from where I kept them on a table. Rubbing the cloth with some water from a glass that had been sitting since morning, I scrubbed the blood off my hands and watched the skin slowly return to the pearly color I was used to.

It took about two hours for me to feel clean again, after a lot of work and water.

I emerged from my room and was hit with the deliciously spiced smell of food, that undoubtedly was finished cooking on a small, controlled fire that my father had built in the kitchen.

I said nothing, still feeling awkward, exhausted, and hurt from everything that had happened. My days were usually boring. Outlaws, arguments, and violence weren't normal for me, and while I wasn't happy with life, I didn't want those things added to it.

My father smiled at me when I came in, his trimmed beard coming up with his smile and his eyes crinkling with the small amount of happiness there.

I'd peeked into the kitchen a few times since coming home and decided that I just wanted to be alone for a little longer.

Every time I checked in on him, though, I saw the crinkle of worry on my father's brow and the hesitant anxiety in his shoulders. He was struggling with something in his head and I found myself wondering what he could be thinking and why hadn't he told me about it. I didn't understand what he was keeping from me. What was it that he felt I couldn't know? A terrible feeling ripped through my heart because I knew I was the cause of his stress. He had been stressed about the crops before, but this was a whole new level of worry crossing his face.

"How are you feeling, dear?"

I nodded and smiled politely back at him. "Better, only a little hungry."

"Come eat," he said, handing me a bowl and sitting in one of the chairs in our home's main room.

I sat, picking up my spoon. Before I even shoveled one bite into my mouth, there was a loud, angry knock on our front door.

I furrowed my eyebrow and looked at the door. No one ever came to our home this late – the sun had set an hour ago, and everybody in our small village should be settling into bed for the night.

I turned my eyes from the wooden door to my father, who was still studying the door, no doubt trying to think of any guests he may have been expecting.

"Harrison! Open your door!"

A strike of panic and fear rushed through me. Instinctively, I jumped up from my seat and backed two steps away from the door and more toward the kitchen. That was a voice I'd be okay not hearing again for the rest of my life. I tore my eyes from the loud pounding on the door and let them sit on my father.

He didn't look calm either. That was not a good sign. My father walked toward me and took my upper arms in his palms. "Go to my room and hide under my bed, do you understand?"

I nodded and turned on my heel. I casted one look back at my father before I left the room completely and saw him standing there, waiting for me to leave. Bounding down the hall, I opened his door and shut it quietly behind me, wasting no time as I crawled under my father's bed and laid myself flat, my face turned toward the door, listening through the thin wood walls.

At first, the only thing I could hear was the muffled talking of an angry man and a calm man – I knew without even thinking that the calm man was my father.

Thumping footsteps pounded closer, along with the raging voice. "I know she's here, Harrison, and what happened today is inexcusable!"

"Aaron," My father started, trying to quell the fury in the younger man.

"No, Harrison. Your daughter is out of control and she needs to be punished!"

"She believed she was defending herself." My father rationalized.

"Oh, please! Harrison, listen to yourself! She's a woman. That means that she doesn't need to defend herself. She should have a husband for that, and if you'd agreed to let her marry me when I'd asked, you wouldn't have this problem!"

My father didn't speak for a moment. "Alright," he said after his pause, "I understand that you're harboring some resentment about my refusing your proposal. I will talk to her and ensure that this doesn't happen again."

"It should not have happened a first time!" Aaron roared. A loud bang rattled through the house.

I didn't wince when whatever it was slammed. Was it bad that I felt a strike of pride about my courage?

"Mind yourself in my house, Aaron!" My father roared.

Courage: gone. I flinched when my father boomed and his voice carried through the walls and into my ears.

"Where is she?" Aaron's voice was closer now, so much so that I could hear the slur on his words. "Did you see my face?!"

"If you don't get out of my house now, I'll drag you out!" My father was losing his patience.

"She needs a husband, Harrison, and I intend to give her one!" Aaron's voice dragged out as he hiccupped before slurring my father's name.

The bedroom door flew open and slammed against the wall.

I gaped in horror as a drunk, bloodied Aaron stumbled into the room and fell against the door frame. I felt like I weighed twice as much and a strike of fear rose from my gut. I was five seconds from shooting out from under the bed and bolting out of the room, but I stopped myself.

A second pair of feet came in only a second later – my father – and pulled Aaron off the door frame, throwing him out of the room. Aaron grunted all the way down the hall, unable to form coherent words.

"Get out of my house!" My father yelled, throwing Aaron through the front door and slammed the door shut after him.

My eyes burned with tears as I heard my father's footsteps come back to me, rushing like I would crumble without him.

I scrambled out from under the bed and when I managed to pull myself out from under it, my father was there, holding onto my upper arms and drawing me into his embrace.

I cracked. The breath that I took in was broken and I collapsed into him while I let the tears fall from my soul. Wrapping his arms around my back and letting one hand rest on my head, my father held me while I shook and broke.

I wasn't dense, and I knew exactly why Aaron had come here. I hadn't known, however, that he'd asked to marry me. I thanked my father repeatedly in my head for rejecting that proposition.

At some point, my eyes began to ache and my throat felt scratchy.

My father, knowing how trying this day had been for me, walked me to my room and tucked me into bed like I was still a child. He told me he'd check outside to make sure that Aaron was gone and then he'd come back.

When he left, I fought to keep my eyes open but every time I blinked, my eyes remained closed for longer and longer. Eventually, I didn't bother opening them back up.

### Chapter Two

I woke up every night since Aaron's drunken tirade in my home.

Five nights of these nightmares, and I knew it was kind of silly. It wasn't even like Aaron broke into my house or anything, but it haunted me. His slurs dug their way into my skull and the intention behind his being in my home was enough to strike me with fear.

Five days had passed since my father had to physically remove a drunk Aaron from our home.

My days were normal. I was never shaky when the sun was up, but a weird switch happened when the sun went over the horizon. I would get nervous when I couldn't see anything out there, and then when I laid my head down, I got to thinking about it.

The nightmares always start the same way – with screams. I'm always hiding, and then I would see him barging into my space, dragging me away. I usually woke up before I get dragged out of my home. At that point, my screams went from in my head to out of my mouth.

I tried to forget them as I walked down the pathway that led to the marketplace. It was the first time I had been back since I defended myself from Aaron.

Every few steps, I either saw or heard somebody whispering and looking at me. It seemed that everyone had heard about me – probably not anything trustworthy, though.

It was so hard for me to ignore them, but I tried to. I could feel my blood boiling in my veins as I heard bits and pieces of what they are saying.

My father nudged me into getting out of the house that morning, and while all I wanted to do was hide away where I felt safe, he was right to push me. I couldn't hide forever, but this? This whispering slander was making me want to.

I understood why he wanted me to go back out in the village.

People had been stopping by every day since I broke Aaron's nose. They usually came in politely and very gently told my father that it was time for me to "grow up," but others were more hostile. Aaron's father, for example, came in screaming and raging about reparations and marriage.

One of the elderly women were nice enough to stop by and offer my father advice: "Don't hide her away," she told my father, "It makes her look like she's got something to be ashamed of."

I wasn't ashamed of anything – I'd done nothing shame-worthy – but, that didn't lessen the blow of having everyone's negative attention.

These people thought that I'd done something wrong.

We went from having no guests ever to having guests every day at any time of the day so they could tell us what to do or what other people thought.

I turned a corner and stepped into the marketplace where people were buying and selling in our little village. Eerily, someone whispered something to another person and I watched as everyone's eyes turned on me. Everyone stopped talking and stared at me as if I were an abomination.

My walking faltered at the unwanted attention, but I cleared my throat and kept going.

"I saw her talking to outlaws last week."

I turned my eyes to the direction of that phrase and saw Annabeth Baker whispering to another girl, just loud enough for me to hear her. She knew I was listening, and she wanted me to hear.

The smile that cracked her lips when she saw my expression fall sickened me.

I kept walking, and I kept hearing.

" _She needs a husband to keep her in check – or a mother, at least."_

" _I heard she's been pining for Aaron Rueben."_

" _Really? I heard she's already married him."_

" _Her father really neglected to teach her..."_

I ground my teeth together and kept moving. At some point during the verbal abuses, I stood in front of the produce stand, basket sitting on my arm.

"Hello, Lilith." I greeted the woman behind the stand. She had a baby on her hip – probably about nine months old, chewing on his fingers. I smiled at the baby, and watched adoringly as the baby turned his head into his mother's body and hid his smiling face.

Lilith, however, didn't give me a happy look. "You can't be here," she told me, her eyes glancing around at some of the people around us.

I was still painfully aware of the people quietly standing near us, listening to our conversation without any care. "I...uh..." I looked around, and lowered my voice, shrugging "need some potatoes and carrots."

"No. I can't help you. Find them somewhere else." She told me, turning away from me.

I arched an eyebrow, feeling my face blush red from embarrassment. My skin felt hot and my stomach dropped. "I don't understand. I usually buy from your wares."

"Not anymore," she said coldly, not bothering to turn around and look at me.

"Why not?" I demanded without thinking. I'm not even sure where that came from. I immediately wanted to take the question back and just walk away. I wanted to go home and sit on my bed or milk the goat – anything that involved being alone.

"My family doesn't sell to scandalous women or their families." She said, boldly looking at me.

I recoiled a bit in shock. "Scandalous?"

"Yes. Aaron told us all about you two. I should have suspected as much." She said it so dismissively and openly, as if she were scolding me.

Then, I realized that she was scolding me.

I opened my mouth, wanting to speak but not sure what to say. I took in a deep breath and casted my eyes around the market. My eyes burned with tears when I saw the crowd that had amassed. It looked like all the able-bodied adults in my village were there, staring at me, some of them judging, some of them not judging but too afraid to help me stand up for myself.

Then, my eyes zeroed in on something I didn't think I'd see again: two men in outlaw garb, staring at me as well. I wouldn't be able to forget them – Enders Hode and Alton Bennett. They were standing near a building I'd passed on my way here, and I felt my throat close when I saw the way Enders' eyes seemed to regard me with healthy doses of skepticism and empathy. I didn't even bother to look at Alton's eyes.

I tried to steel myself against the pain and shame that I knew was going to hurt like nothing I'd felt before. I gathered my thoughts and looked back at Lilith. It was unreasonable, but these were her products and she could refuse to sell to me if she so chose. That was within her right, but insulting my father by calling him dishonorable as well was not within her right.

Clearing my throat and straightening my back, I tilted my head up and looked down at her. "I am not scandalous, and neither is my father. You don't have to sell to me – that's fair – but watch your tongue about the man who gives all of his resources away at no charge because he can't stand to see your families suffer." I looked around the crowd again, this time my eyes lacking the burn of tears because I was forcing myself to keep it down. Barely glancing back at Lilith, I said, "have a good afternoon."

This wasn't fair, but crying about it – especially here – would not help anything. I kept my head up as I walked away, but that didn't stop the whispers:

" _That girl needs to learn her place."_

I swallowed down the anger and bile of rage that rose from the depths of my stomach as I attempted to walk home with my head still held high.

I needed to learn my place? I helped feed these people – for which my father refused payment because he was the kindest man I'd ever known – and this is what I get for that good deed.

I glanced to my left, my eyes colliding with Enders the Outlaw, who stared at me with knitted eyebrows, as if he were trying to figure me out too. His friend, Alton had his head back against a building, his eyes closed as if he didn't care enough to bother himself with the drama. Alton's body leaned against the house, soaking up the sun.

He was so carefree.

Free.

I looked away from Alton's unworried face, not bothering to ask myself why these outlaws were even here anymore. I thought they would have left by now. I didn't know why they would stay here in this place that so clearly hated them – this place that so clearly hated me, too.

What am I still doing here? I didn't know the right answer to that question.

Everyone kept saying that I needed to mind my place, but I didn't know my place. All I knew was that this wasn't it anymore.

*~*~*

When I got home and my father interrogated me on why I hadn't returned with anything, I spun some god-awful lie about leaving the coin purse at home.

I knew he would realize I was lying before long – and I intended on telling him the truth later – but at least I could retreat to my room and curl under my blanket for the time being.

Sleep evaded me for a while longer than it should have, but I managed to fall asleep for a nap, only to wake up as the sun was falling over the horizon. Sure, I felt rested, but then I'd also be up all night.

Rubbing my face with one hand, I threw the blanket off me with another.

That's when I heard the voices echoing down from down the hall.

A small amount of candlelight poured in through the bottom of my door.

Creaking the door open, I saw my father sitting on a chair opposite of one of the elderly men of our village.

I couldn't remember his name at first, but it came to me when he spoke: Edwin Caldwell.

He was a good man, with white hair and a gravelly voice. He'd fought in the crusades, and as he told it, barely made it out alive. He was always happy, and he'd always been kind to me.

I fully intended on closing the door, but then I saw my father sigh and rub a hand down his face. "I know, Edwin."

Edwin nodded, his white hair bobbing a bit. "I hope you do. This situation has gone from bad to worse. Some of our people are claiming that Aaron deserves reparations in the form of her hand in marriage."

My father shook his head fervently and turned his eyes on Edwin. "She's not ready."

Edwin sighed and leaned forward. "Then you will need to help her come to terms with it. It won't be too long before Aaron will start planning on storming in here and taking her to a church regardless of your say-so, and I'm certain that you don't want her to be Mrs. Aaron Rueben."

My stomach rolled.

I had never seen my father look so fearful in his life when his eyes snapped to Edwin. "How soon do you think Aaron would plan something stupid like that?"

Edwin shrugged, his hands coming up to rest on the top of the wooden staff he used to help him walk. "Could be days, could be months."

My father cursed under his breath and looked back at Edwin. "He would not dare step into my house."

"Not unless he had a mob, and, I've got to say Harrison, a lot of the people think he is in the right." Edwin leaned forward more. "The way I see it, you have two choices: take her and flee to another village, or give your permission and let Aaron marry her. There is no way you can stay here and expect her not to marry him."

"These people cannot make me or my daughter do anything." My father growled.

"No, they cannot, but they can contact their catholic parishes or the throne, and their people will come and deal with this as they see fit."

My father stiffened in his chair, staring at Edwin for a long moment. I saw the struggle happen in that moment, between his belief that I should be able to have a normal life – that I should not be forced to do something I did not want to do – and that I should be kept safe.

I already knew the story – he'd explained it to me three years ago – Dexthorpe was not a very welcoming village, but it was small and it was far enough from trouble that no one would know or care what my name was. No one would know who I truly was, and Dexthorpe wasn't even on many maps, so chances were that no one would really be looking for me here.

Once upon a time, I was safe here, but not anymore – especially not when people would be banging down my door any minute to drag me to a church and marry me off to atone for the mistake of standing up for myself.

My father dragged in another deep sigh and let it come back out past his lips. "Alright, Edwin. Will you speak with Aaron's father and tell him that she will be married by the end of the year?"

I felt the breath leave my lungs as if I'd been kicked by a mule or something. My jaw dropped and I backed away from the door, feeling the sting of tears overcome me. My legs continued backing away from the door, until the back of my knees hit the bed and I fell to the mattress, but I couldn't keep my balance and slid off to the floor. I didn't care that I looked crazy, sitting on the floor, knees to my chest, heaving sobs as quietly as possible.

My father was going to have me marry Aaron?!

I could tell with everything in me that my life would be miserable with him. My father was more perceptive than I was; he should have no doubt that I would lead a very unhappy life with Aaron Rueben.

It may have been trivial, considering how many of the women in my village had their marriages arranged and were quite happy, but I felt like I was dying inside.

My father – the only person to ever truly love me – had resigned me to a life of torment and hatred.

I sat there, bawling into the cloth of my dress until I heard the door open and Edwin Caldwell's cane thump out of my home.

Scrambling up off the floor, I used all the strength I had left to throw over the blanket and slide into the sheets, pulling it up over my shoulder.

I knew my father would be in to check on me before he went to bed, and I couldn't bear to look at him, let alone speak to him.

Waiting with bated breath, I heard the creak of my door as it opened, and the candlelight danced across the wall I was facing as I calmed myself into deep, consistent breaths.

He waited for a moment, probably trying to see if I were in a deep, calm sleep, before he closed the door and left me to myself.

My quiet sobs immediately started up again, and after only an hour of agonizing, gut-wrenching sadness, I quieted down. The pain in my chest was now something more like a dull throb instead of the razor-sharp slices it had been earlier.

I usually felt safe, knowing my father was only in the next room. I always knew that he would protect me from danger. I knew that he would go to the ends of the Earth to ensure my safety.

Now, I wasn't sure about any of that.

If that mob of Aaron's supporters came storming in here, demanding that I be handed over to become his wife, would my father even try to stop them? Or, would he tell me that it was for the greater good? Would he try to convince me that being married to Aaron was a better fate than being caught by the royal knights in another village?

I didn't believe any of that and no amount of convincing would tell me that marrying Aaron Rueben was anything close to "good for me."

I didn't want to resent my father, and I didn't want to be trapped in a loveless marriage with a bastard of a husband.

I realized without even looking for a solution that I couldn't stay here anymore.

This place that had once been so comforting and fond to me had become a staple of regret and misery.

I knew it in my heart before I thought the words, and a tear slid out of the corner of my eye as I knew them to be true: this isn't home anymore.

### Chapter Three

I held the parchment in my hands, running a finger over the inked words. My fingertips itched to dig into the crinkling paper and crumple it into a tiny ball, but I fought the urge. I may need this when I got there.

There. It was still too weird to think of living somewhere else.

Propping my elbows up on the railing just in front of my home's back door, my body arched forward over the wooden supports. My stomach sank as I reread the words.

Rolling the parchment up, I retied it's red string around it to keep it bound.

Am I really doing this?

I raised my hand to touch the fabric of my cloak, which hung limply about my shoulders. It was secured around me like a blanket, protecting me from harm. I ran the fabric between my index finger and thumb, knowing I would have to ditch the garment before I even made it to the civil parish of Edwinstowe – never mind Robin Hood's camp in Sherwood Forest.

The cloak was decorated – feminine – a present I'd received from someone I couldn't remember anymore.

At the sight of the scroll in my left hand, I knitted my eyebrows together. My breathing was labored, but I couldn't tell if it was from frustration or anxiety – probably both.

This didn't even make any sense. Robin Hood, notorious outlaw and thief, wasn't concerned with the matters of the crown. From everything I'd learned from my father, Robin Hood was just a somewhat compassionate, apolitical thief.

Looking down at the rolled-up letter, I turned the idea over in my head every way I could and came up empty every single time.

Why would Hood choose now – of all times – to start fighting against the throne?

He'd never actively fought against the crown before. In fact, he'd always been subservient to the crown. During the reign of Richard the Lionheart, Robin Hood was very obedient and the two got along well whenever Robin had been reprimanded for his poaching.

Richard the Lionheart had been a kind ruler, though, and things were a lot different since Wesley took the crown.

Dizziness settled in me, my fingers starting to tremble as I let my eyes roam over the scrolled parchment.

In one quick motion, I shoved the scroll deep into the bag at the right of my feet. This small, crumpled letter had somehow turned my life upside down and I couldn't bear the sight of it anymore.

After all, if I hadn't seen this stupid letter in the barn, I would never have been at the market on the one day that the outlaws had been there, and Aaron would never have bothered me.

I glared down at my bag, hating the letter even more as well as the man who penned it.

What was so wrong with a normal life? That's all I had wanted for as long as I could remember. I tried as hard as I could to be like the other women of my village, but I never quite fit.

Now, here I was: no options, no home, no place.

This was Robin Hood's war, and honestly, a war that made absolutely no sense to me. This was a war that I prayed had more content than what met my eye – because what I saw right now made Robin Hood look like nothing more than a selfish thief who wanted the gains that came with the chaos of war.

I wondered if Robin had called back all his old friends, or just the good ones who would still come to his aid.

Shaking my head, I mentally kicked myself.

I should have left days ago, but I'd been cowardly and waited because I relied on my father's protection, but here I was. Now, I knew that he was going to have me married off to Aaron Rueben.

I cringed at the thought of that.

Kicking the bag away from me slightly, I gave it one last dirty look before I looked out over the dark grass that led into a darkened forest beyond.

I'd read Robin's letter twenty times since I decided that I needed to leave, and every time I did I felt like my heart was being torn from my chest. The correspondence struck me as flat, but I knew better than that; Robin was being straightforward and commanding. He was not asking my father to come, he was telling my father to come.

Harrison,

We have made camp in Sherwood and require your assistance. Bring your sword and bow as you will need them.

I am certain that you remember our spot.

Your help and guidance are appreciated.

Best Regards,

Robin Hood.

I could totally pull this off.

Right?

Ever since I was a youth, I always preferred what the women would call 'manly' activities. I roughhoused with the boys, played with the weapons instead of the weaving loom, and preferred tending to the livestock over knitting. I supposed that was why when I had asked my father how many proposals he'd gotten for my hand, none of the men my age considered me a candidate – aside from Aaron. And, none of the women considered me a friend. It was like I lived in this weird middle ground where I wasn't accepted by anyone.

I sighed and let my eyebrows come together in frustration. I'd given this plenty of thought – well, as much as I could over the last four hours – but every time I doubted myself, it always came back to this conclusion: I had no other options.

If it came down to a choice between marrying slimy Aaron or pretending to be a man and live in the forest, I'd choose the forest every single time. I wasn't vain, I just understood what the implications of marrying Aaron would be. Other than the blatant disrespect and hatred he'd harbor toward me, there was also the aspect of intimacy and child-rearing.

I pushed down the bile that rose in my throat.

I refused to subject myself to that kind of life.

I wasn't kidding myself; this wasn't a permanent fix, but it would convey the message to my father that I needed to find somewhere else to belong. Obviously, Dexthorpe wasn't safe anymore and Sherwood wouldn't work for long, but it would give me enough time and an opportunity to discover another place to feel safe again.

I'd spent the almost all my life in Dexthorpe – seventeen years – and not once had I doubted my father's decision-making. Until now. He'd find me in the Sherwood camp. It was just a matter of how long it would take him to figure it out.

I shrugged the thought off and kept my eyes focused on the trees beyond. My blood thrummed in my veins at the idea of walking into that forest completely alone. It was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking.

The cold, night air was relaxing to my lungs, though, which made the loneliness easier to stomach. My eyelids closed and I thought back to the letter I'd left on the kitchen table for my father. It wasn't much, but I hoped it would be enough for him to understand that this was the only way.

I didn't mention where I was going or even in what direction I'd gone in. I tried to explain that I couldn't live here anymore and leave it at that. My father was smart and I knew that if I rambled on about my love or tried to explain in further detail, he'd be able to piece something together.

I couldn't let that happen. I needed to have enough time in Sherwood to find a new home. Then, I'd come back for my father. Or, I'd send for him so I wouldn't have to face these people again.

That was cowardly, but I didn't care anymore.

The forest stood before me, just a few paces outside my home. It was dark, beautiful, and frightening, embracing me in anxiety – the ending of one chapter of my life and the beginning of the next.

I'd only been outside this late by myself a handful of times – and I didn't feel this free any of those other times. I had always felt scared but now, knowing that it was the forest or a life of misery, my choice was easy. My nerves danced with idea of something new.

The anxiety in my stomach grew as I took my first liberating steps toward the woods. I took one slow step after another, trying to ease my jittering nerves.

I turned around once to look over the only home I'd ever known.

I'm sorry, I thought, closing my eyes and relishing in the quiet breeze on my skin.

I turned my back on the structure and a pang of guilt swept through my body, radiating down my arms and back into my heart. It took everything within me to keep my feet moving one after the other, to keep myself from running back into the house and climbing into my bed again. Walking into that dark unknown was the hardest thing I'd ever done, but I held my head high as I came to the tree line and left Dexthorpe behind me.

Good riddance.

The forest's darkness embraced me as I pulled the hood of my cloak over my head.

I was no longer Harlow McBride.

I was an outlaw of Sherwood Forest.

### Chapter Four

I stepped over a small, fallen oak tree, making a mental list of the times my father had stepped between me and danger.

The list felt like it would never end, and I got lost counting while I was being flooded with memories. It was uncountable. He was always there for me when I needed him the most.

I suppose that was why this was such a shock to me.

For once, he had opted to not stand between me and danger.

What could he possibly have been thinking?

Why would he think that forcing me to live a life of pure unhappiness would be a better option than standing beside me?

And, here I was, walking through a dangerous forest because I preferred this danger over the one that lived in my own village. I knew I was doing the right thing by removing myself, but it felt wrong in some ways.

Who would help my father in the fields? Who would shop for him? Who would help him distribute the harvest or take care of the two cattle we owned?

He'd invested so much time into refining me and making me into a well-rounded woman, and now I was leaving him alone. While my reasons were justified, it still felt like I was doing something wrong.

Surely, by now he had discovered me missing and was sending people to look for me. He probably was visiting every single person who owed him a favor.

I reminded myself that this was the only feasible way out of this situation. This was how I could find a safe place for the both of us. He wouldn't have to worry about me anymore, and I wouldn't cause any more trouble. He would be able to live a somewhat normal life and I could find a place that fit me.

The forest was denser at night, it seemed, and fear crept up my spine and settled in my bones. My hood slumped down over my face in the darkness, keeping in what little warmth I had and giving me a small amount of comfort in the abandoned woods.

Sherwood's camp of outlaws relied on archers and stealth. They could be anywhere in the trees, watching my every move – and I believed that to be the most terrifying part.

The crunch of leaves echoed behind me. The snap of twigs made me cringe. I couldn't tell if they were caused by humans or animals.

What if they were poachers? I couldn't be caught. Being caught would throw my whole plan into the wind.

A jolt of panic rose from my toes to my spine. My feet began to move faster, picking up my pace and propelling me deeper into the dark and unknown places. My bag thumped rhythmically against my leg, the strap digging into my shoulder with its weight.

Snap! A twig's demise resonated from one tree to another, making its way back to me.

Fear rose from the depths of my soul; I propelled myself forward, uncaring of my noise and unwilling to stop. My hood fell back, my hair cascading out behind me, inviting every tree to grab hold of it.

And, one of those branches took the bait, grappling into my hair and entangling itself within my roots.

The force with which I was pulled back was excruciating. My yelp of pain was short-lived, and I smothered it by clamping my mouth shut. The sounds of snapping twigs and broken branches came closer, and my heart sprang back to life as I clawed violently at my hair.

The sounds evolved from something ambiguous to very clear footsteps in the dark, coming from behind me. I pushed myself into the tree, trying to make myself small and invisible. The odds of it working were close to none, but I tried anyway. I felt a whimper drudge up my throat, but I kept my throat relaxed and refused to let the noise out.

Okay, I thought, taking in a shaky, quiet breath. Okay, don't panic. Everything will be fine if I remain quiet...

"Did you see which way she went?" A man walked into my line of sight, only ten or so feet in front of me.

I let out a slow breath, trying to stop myself from screaming or something. I knew that if I could keep calm, I could avoid getting caught by these strangers. They could be harmless, but I wouldn't take that chance.

There was peace for a moment. "No. I couldn't see."

I squeezed my eyes shut and willed them to walk away.

"It was probably nothing."

"It was a woman, Arvo."

"A woman? In this forest? In the middle of the night?" The man speaking was so close to me now that I could hear his quiet chuckle. "I think you need some sleep."

"I'm not tired! I know what I saw! It was a woman with a long, green cloak. She was running that way."

I kept my eyes closed as the footsteps came even closer. I realized a moment later that my breathing was too loud. Quietly, I took in a small breath and held it. Opening my eyes, I glanced to my left and saw one of the men coming closer, rounding the corner of my tree and standing next to me, barely ten feet away.

"We should head back to the others. If a woman is out here, she'll probably get lost and die or she'll run into one of our people."

I closed my eyes again. Inhale. Wait five seconds. Exhale.

The other man had an edge in his voice when he spoke: "What if she does die? How can we let an innocent person die out here?"

"You'll have to get used to it, Daniel. This is what life is like for us. Nothing is certain."

There was silence for a few seconds. "Fine. Let's go back."

"Yea, let's do that."

I could feel the bark digging into the sensitive skin under my fingernails. I hadn't realized I was gripping the tree so hard. I didn't move a muscle, though, waiting for the sound of them leaving before I did anything.

Their footsteps finally receded, along with their conversation – which I wasn't paying attention to because I was too terrified about almost being caught.

I didn't know who they were and they hadn't given me many clues, but what I did know was that this was a very close call.

This is what my father had been protecting me from. This was why I needed saving.

I didn't know what kind of people were out here or what kinds of danger were out here. Hell, I didn't even know what kinds of things I would have to do to pull off this charade. Was I willing to do anything to make this happen?

I remained still as I thought back to that man who wanted to look for me because he didn't want me to die. He wanted to ensure my safety – I think – but his friend had said that he had to get used to this way of life. That's what these men had to do to survive out here, so what would I have to do?

What kind of person would I have to become to make sure I stayed safe? But, then, what other choice did I have? I would not go crawling back home and marry Aaron because the forest was too hard to live with.

But, if someone could tell that I was a woman in the dark of night, in the middle of the forest, then I needed to change my plans.

This cloak had to go. Now.

And, my hair? That needed to get cut.

I raised a hand to touch the hair that remained tangled in the branches. It was a tight knot, but I'd be able to get it out. My fingers worked at the hair and before long, the strands were free.

So many things could have gone wrong; I closed my eyes and let relief wash over me as I calmed down.

For somebody so concerned with safety, I'd somehow overlooked the fact that women did not wander in the night in search of Sherwood Forest. I thought I'd be able to make it to Edwinstowe, a civil parish within the boundaries of Sherwood Forest, without having to change, but that seemed impossible now. If I were seen again, as a woman, there was no telling what would happen. At the very least, someone may insist on escorting me home – and I refused to go back.

The strands of my hair shone in the moonlight, a beautiful sheen not easily obtained, but somehow, I'd gotten it.

A pang of reluctance swam through my body, and the more I looked at its beauty the more I knew I couldn't do it. Cutting my hair off was like severing the last tie between the new me and the old me.

An ache swam in my gut at the thought of losing myself in this mess.

As my fingertips trailed over the fibers, an idea sparked in my mind. I slid my pack off my shoulders and rummaged through the pockets, pulling out my old work hat. Its brown color was a bit faded, but it was whole and untattered. It's knit pattern was intricate and it didn't at all look anything a woman would wear. I slipped the hat on and over my hair, which I pushed under the fabric. Trailing the edge of the hat, I pushed hair into it until I was certain that there was nothing hanging loose.

Light was beginning to spill over the horizon and welcome a new day. I only had another hour or so to make it to Sherwood before I'd be in danger of the king's men finding me – or, a bit more terrifying, my father finding me.

I inhaled deeply, embracing the cool air that poured into my lungs. Dropping my cloak to the floor of twigs, grass, and foliage, I paused for a moment before looking ahead and walking further into Sherwood.

*~*~*

It took a lot of energy to find the camp within the forest. At one point, I had to stop at Edwinstowe – the closest village to the Sherwood camp – to ask a barmaid in the tavern which way the camp was. Then I stayed at that tavern for three hours trying to talk myself into following this through. Every bone in my body wanted to turn back to Dexthorpe, but that wasn't an option anymore.

Apparently, even after stopping for directions, I had lost track of how close I was getting and startled at the sudden sound that rang through the forest.

"State your business!" A strong, booming voice shook my soul.

I was nervous.

My palms were wet and my hands trembled. I made fists out of them and looked over the trees. I saw nothing at first, but then I noticed them: small specks of green and brown, bows pointed down, aiming their arrows directly at my heart.

Two of them were sitting in the large branches, and two others were standing on a platform hanging out of a large oak on my right. The overhang was created out of crudely cut trees, and while it seemed a little odd-shaped, it held their weight steadily.

Panic fluttered up my fingertips and made them tremble when I noticed that their fingers looked a little too eager for my liking.

I raised my eyes hesitantly, half awestruck and half alarmed.

Momentarily, I was blinded by the sun's position at high noon, but when everything cleared, I saw all kinds of activity hidden in plain sight: men in treetops, platforms in trees, ladders, people moving quietly – as if that was second nature to them.

I couldn't find my voice as I gazed on the scene.

Shaking myself of the speechlessness I felt, I realized they wanted a name.

"My name is Henry," I pulled whatever strength I had left from the very depths of my soul and spouted out the first men's name I knew, "Henry McBride. I've come in place of my father, Harrison McBride."

Then there was silence. It was a silence so strange that I thought I may have been caught.

A few long seconds passed before a loud voice boomed from another direction: "Lift the gate!"

A gate at least three times my height came lifting from in front of me, showing a village-type of community built amongst the trees and valley, thriving on the food they'd managed to grow in the safety of a home they had built themselves.

In front of me was a quaint community with ladders leading up tall trees and cabins littered around a campsite. On my right, I saw a series of buildings that led down to a large river with a small bridge. On my left were ladders leading up old oak trees that had undoubtedly been growing for centuries. Ahead I saw a ramp leading downwards to a valley filled with people dressed in greens, browns, and blacks, their bows and quivers strung across their backs, swords patting gently against their thighs.

Composing myself proved to be a challenging task, but I managed to shake off my awestruck face and walk into the area. The gate closed behind me as I kept a slow pace forward. I had to force myself to continue moving one leg in front of the other, but it felt like I was treading water instead of earth: slow and unyielding. I tried to keep my eyes even, unsurprised, and skeptical.

It was hard to be so well-put-together while I stood amid two hundred or so men, pretending to be one of them. There were more younger men than there were middle-aged or older men, which shouldn't have surprised me, but it did. I had assumed that most of the men would be acquaintances of Robin Hood's, meaning they'd be from his generation

No one really took notice to my entrance. Although, I did hear my new name being recited throughout the encampment. A group of men caught wind of the name and turned around, looking to me.

I felt scrutinized by them and tried my hardest to put on a nonchalant look as I walked further into the camp. My eyes wandered over the men, observing how they were acting and trying to take mental notes on what acceptable male behavior looked like.

Some of the younger men rough-housed while the older men sat around, watching their younger counterparts.

I tried to retain confidence that I could be myself and get away with my disguise, but the more some of the older men stared at me – as if they were expecting more of Harrison McBride's child – the more I thought this would be harder than I'd anticipated.

I had only gone thirty feet at most when I realized that I had no idea where I was going and what I was supposed to be doing. Stopping, I looked around again and watched people bustle here and there.

Women hustled their children along, arms full of wood or harvested food. Some of the children who looked too young to work kicked around a ball while the elderly women watched them. There were men sitting and eating or walking around the river; I guessed they were patrolling, because their eyes never left the forest beyond the river, and their hands never strayed from the hilt of their swords.

"It's all a bit overwhelming, isn't it?"

I snapped my head to the side a little too fast and had to remind myself to relax.

Act like you belong. The bottom line was that I had to belong. I didn't have a back-up plan if this didn't work.

Clearing my throat, I tried to regain my composure again. "Aye. It's very impressive."

The man who had spoken smiled and stood beside me, his hands on his hips as he looked over the small center of their camp.

I used the opportunity to look him over. He was short, closer to my height than that of my father, and he wore a plain green tunic with a plain pair of trousers. His hair stuck up in all angles and the wrinkles at his eyes indicated that he was probably about my father's age.

"We've spent a long time trying to keep these people safe. This isn't at all where we thought we would be when we started this years ago."

I quirked an eyebrow at the man. "This wasn't the intention behind camping out in Sherwood?"

The man let out a small chuckle. "No. This was not the intention. When Robin Hood was but a young'un, he was more concerned with wealth and riches than the good of other people. He was rather apolitical then – and much more brutal, if I may add."

I stared at the man for a long moment, and then glanced around us to see if there was anyone around. I leaned in a bit closer before I said: "You speak so boldly in his camp."

He turned his eyes on me then. "All who come here are aware of Robin Hood's past, and we all know that he is a different man than those tales give him credit for."

I nodded, putting that little fact in a storage box in the back of my mind.

"The name's Aldridge Chadwick. I can't say enough how good it is to meet a member of the McBride family." Turning to me, the man held out his hand.

I took it with a firm grasp and shook. "You know of my father?"

"Know him?" Aldridge let out a boisterous laugh. "I fought beside him. He's a great fighter, that one. I can't wait to see how you handle a sword, that's for sure."

"I'll try not to disappoint," I laughed deeply, trying to imitate his own laughter.

"Speaking of which, where are your weapons?"

I looked down, realizing that my hip was bare and that I didn't have a bow or sword. "I didn't want to leave my father unarmed with all the reports of thieving happening out near Dexthorpe."

It was decent, even if it was a lie. My father could defend himself even without weapons, and there had never been reports of thieving, but Aldridge didn't need to know that.

"Ah, I see. Well, we will have to rectify that as soon as you speak with Robin."

"Robin Hood?" I asked, eyebrow arched. I did not expect that. "I'm only a recruit. I'm sure Robin is busy enough without me taking up his time."

"Nonsense." Aldridge said, putting his hand on my shoulder and starting to lead me through the center of the town. "Robin will surely want to meet the son of Harrison McBride."

I nodded, trying not to seem unwilling to meet Robin Hood himself. "Sure."

I let Aldridge lead me through the center of the activity, weaving our way through the small clusters of people and rounding to the right. "How are you, Henry? Your father was but eighteen when he came to Robin."

I tried to focus on Aldridge but, I was too busy staring at the people around me. They weren't cowering in fear. They were smiling.

Smiling? These people were happy to be here? I hadn't expected that. I'd expected stone faces from people who'd truly felt the hardships of this life.

I shook myself from my stupor and looked back to Aldridge. "Uh, I'm eighteen."

It was a lie, and I felt a strike of regret at lying, but I couldn't be sure that they wouldn't send me home if I were younger. I'd be eighteen by November, anyway. That was only...ten months...

"Must be in the McBride blood then, yeah?" Aldridge laughed.

I tore my eyes from Aldridge and the people I'd passed and looked forward, almost pulling to a halt as I saw the building before me. I started counting in my head as we passed the cabins: Sixteen in total. Sixteen cabins? Here?

I whipped my head to look around again and turned my eyes back on Aldridge. "How did you manage to build these cabins?"

Aldridge tilted his head and gave a small shrug. "People are willing to fight for this cause. They are willing to contribute in any way they can so we can keep trying to gain more freedoms for all of our people."

"What made Robin Hood turn from brutal thief to generous hero?"

Aldridge shot me a look. "Robin was always generous. Have you not heard the tale of the knight?" He paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "It wasn't until King Wesley slaughtered five of our innocent children in Sherwood that Robin became an active participant in the affairs of the crown."

I felt my stomach sink at the thought. Wesley had massacred children?

I knitted my eyebrows together. "Why didn't we hear of this in my village?"

Aldridge shrugged and spoke gravely: "He is the king. He can control the messages that people receive. That is why we are regaled as 'brutal thieves,' as you put it."

I went silent for a moment, but Aldridge didn't appear to be angry with me, so I felt like I could speak again. "What made Wesley attack?"

"It was a cold, unforgiving winter, and some of our men had gone out to poach some deer to feed our young ones." Aldridge cleared his throat as if it were still a painful memory. "Poaching in the king's forest is a deadly offense, but Wesley wasn't known for enforcing that particular punishment at the time. He deemed it only fair that the children we sent our men out to feed should die as compensation. We were only able to spare one of the six."

I felt like I wanted to heave. "Why did he punish so harshly?"

Aldridge turned his eyes on me and arched an eyebrow. "Has your father told you nothing?"

I only stared at him, too overwhelmed to speak.

Aldridge sighed and looked forward again as we weaved past another cluster of people. "He came upon our poaching men whilst in search for his stolen granddaughter. The babe's outlaw father had stolen her and fled to Sherwood for a short while. He was gone before Wesley slaughtered our children and he had not been back since."

No. No. Goddammit, no!

I felt my throat close as I tried to pull in breath after excruciating breath. A pain in my chest rose to the point where my vision started to blacken.

This was my fault. Those poor children had been slaughtered because of me.

I stopped and put my hands on my knees as I tried to drag in breaths and suppress the ache I felt pooling in my stomach. This was not the time or the place to be having an episode of some kind.

"Henry?" Aldridge asked, stopping to look at me.

I didn't look up. I just stood there, looking at the ground with my hands on my knees, focusing on the vibrant green of the grass, or how brown my shoes looked – anything to keep my mind off the five lives that had been sacrificed to save my own.

I have done nothing with my life! Those lives were lost in vain! Those poor babies were taken from their mothers and fathers so that I could sit around doing nothing?!

"Henry? Are you feeling alright?"

I cleared my throat and tried to blink away the tears that pooled in my eyes. "I'm fine." Standing up straight, I looked at him and rubbed a hand over my face. "I have to ask who the babe was."

Aldridge nodded but said nothing for a moment. Finally, he spoke: "Your sister."

I felt like my world was crashing down around me. My father had never told me that he'd mentioned my bloodline to anybody, and I felt like I'd been kicked in the stomach after finding out that not only was my deepest secret not so secret, but also that five lives had been mercilessly taken because of me. "How many people know this?"

"Not many. Only a few of us who are trusted with it by your father – and we've all vowed to never speak of it."

"You've spoken of it."

Aldridge smirked, unrepentant. "You are Harrison's son, and Harlow's brother. You will protect her with your life."

I nodded but said nothing, opting to stare at the ground at my feet.

"Come. Let's get you to Robin and see if we can find you some weapons."

*~*~*

I'm not sure what I expected when we walked into Robin Hood's cabin a few minutes later. I don't think I could have been prepared for what I saw.

Books and scrolls lined a whole wall of his small home, a bed tucked into a corner and a large table planted in the center. I couldn't tell the color of the table because there were parchments everywhere, littering piles on the floor around it, and flowing all over its surface.

Next to the small bed he had pushed into the corner sat one book – the only one next to his bed. From where I stood, I could see the words Birth Registry on the front cover.

So, Robin Hood was literate. That was a good sign.

His head craned up to look as we walked into the room, his arms stretched across the table, and his hands splayed against the wood as his eyes had bored into a large sheet of parchment on the surface.

Aldridge stepped forward and nodded at him. "Robin."

"Aldridge, what do we have here?"

The first thing I noticed were the red streaks flaming through the white of his eyes and the directness he had for us. He looked me over like I was some pet, and Aldridge was introducing me to a reluctant owner.

A little desperate to seem capable, I stepped forward and held out my hand to him. "Henry McBride. It's nice to meet you, Robin Hood. My father has only fond things to say about you."

Robin stared at me for a moment before finally, slowly standing up straight and grasping my hand, giving it a good shake. "I was not aware that Harrison had a son, never mind that he would be bringing company."

"My father is quite ill and could not have made the journey. I am here in his stead. He has trained me in many aspects of his position with you and I am willing to learn what I do not already know."

"Well, that's all fine and good, but we don't need more recruits. We need Harrison."

I shrugged, trying to get the bout of anger off my shoulders. "You can't have him. You have me. What can I do?"

Robin looked me over with a wary expression. "You're definitely your father's son," Robin muttered before taking in a deep breath and steeling himself. "You'll go house with the other training men and we'll see what you're good for in the morrow on the training fields."

I watched as Robin turned back to his parchments and started looking them over again.

I stood there, waiting, thinking there was more to this conversation because he hadn't even offered a goodbye. When Aldridge nudged my arm, and nodded for me to exit with him, I understood. I'd been dismissed. Okay, then.

Following Aldridge out of the cabin, I stepped onto the lush grass.

"Where is the cabin I'll be housing in?"

Aldridge nodded to our right as he cut in between two cabins. "The other side of the camp."

I nodded and followed without another word. I didn't feel there was anything left to say. Expect one thing...

I struggled with whether I should ask, and before I knew it, we were standing in front of a cabin and Aldridge was speaking again.

"This will be where you sleep. During the day, you'll be out with the other training men, practicing swordplay and archery." Aldridge took another deep breath, "I know he's a lot to get used to, but he's fighting for something bigger than us. Try to hang in there."

I nodded and chuckled a bit. "I've dealt with worse."

And, I had. Aaron was worse. He was evil incarnate, in my mind. Robin may be a bit straight-forward and intimidating but he didn't pose a threat like Aaron had.

Aldridge nodded and started to walk away. I let him get twelve paces away from me when I couldn't keep the question in any longer.

"Chadwick!" I called and jogged up to him.

He turned to face me again.

"What happened to the one?" I breathed in a voice a little too soft for my liking.

He looked confused for a moment before it dawned on him what I'd been asking. "Her name is Evie. She is our healer now. She is astute in her profession. Robin cut down four men to protect her before the cavalry arrived."

Aldridge looked at the ground for a solemn moment and turned, walking away from me while I wrestled with the ball of agony I felt for the children.

And, in the center of that ball: embers of pure rage.

### Chapter Five

The training fields were already crowded when I walked onto the grass at the crack of dawn. The sun was inching up over the tree line, and the cool air was caressing my skin like I imagined the touch of an angel.

Looking around the rings made of wood, I saw pairs of two men in each, sparring with each other. I stopped to watch a few of the groups, immediately feeling inferior and intimidated by the sight. These men were good.

How could I even hope to measure up to them?

I was lost in thought, taking mental notes on how to spar like the men in the circle in front of me expertly did, when someone stepped into my periphery.

I fought the inclination to immediately snap my neck to look at the person standing next to me. I had to relax a little bit or someone would realize that I was on edge all the time and piece together my lie.

"Do you need a partner to practice?"

"Aye." I let my eyes slowly tear from the two fighting and look at the man on my right. My jaw went slack as I stared at him. He was still looking at the men in the circle, but my eyes were now glued on his face.

"The name's Enders Hode. You look familiar. Have we met?" Finally, his eyes slid to me as he held his hand out for me to shake it.

Throwing up a metaphorical wall, I picked my jaw up off the floor and calmed by racing heart. Opting to grip his hand, I delayed my response, because I wasn't totally sure he wouldn't bust me the second I said it.

Well, I could lie my way out of that, couldn't I?

"No, I don't believe so. I'm Henry McBride." I said, definitively. I was proud of the way I could so boldly and proudly declare my patronage.

"McBride?" His eyebrow arched so hard I thought it might jump off his face. "As in Harrison?"

I nodded. "Aye."

"Oh." He said, his eyes glued to me like he was too shocked to speak. It was like I'd taken a fish straight from the sea and slapped him in the face with it.

"Is there a problem with that?" I asked, trying so hard not to grin as his face immediately cleared and his arrogant smile came back.

"No, no. Of course not. I was unaware that Harrison had a son." Enders said, his hand sitting leisurely on the hilt of his sword.

"So, I hear."

Enders let out a choked laugh at that. "Well, no matter, then." Nodding to the left, he said: "There's an open spot over there. You ready?"

I nodded and followed him to the spot he'd indicated. He readied a wooden sword lying next to the wooden ring and handed me the other one. "So, pray tell, what was it like growing up with Harrison McBride for a father?"

I turned the wooden sword in my hands, inspecting it. It only made sense that they'd use fake swords for practicing. I wondered briefly how many people had died before they switched to this practice.

Shaking my head of the thought, I glanced back to Enders then down to the wooden sword in my palm, testing its weight. "He was the best father a child could ask for."

Enders remained quiet for a moment, but not long enough for me to feel prepared for another question: "He wasn't mean? Angry? Brutal at times?"

At that I looked up at Enders and arched an eyebrow. "If you had a child, would you be mean, angry, or brutal? Is that what you consider fun? Do you go around being rude to children in your spare time?"

Enders burst into a loud, boisterous laugh at that. "No, I suppose I would not."

I suppressed the grin I felt tugging at my lips. "Why do you ask anyway?"

"Curious, I suppose." He twirled his sword around in a circle and eyed me like he was so ready to see how I'd carry myself in a fight. "Ready?"

I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant when really my nerves made me hyper-aware of everything and I felt like I might throw up from the anxiety.

Enders stood to the side in the circle and waited for me to step in. "Do you want to take offensive or defensive?"

I eyed him skeptically and tried to buy myself some time before I had to answer.

What had my father said was better? Defense! My brain shouted at me. A memory shot through my brain before I could stop it.

" _Straighten your back, hold your sword tight!" My father shouted as he threw blow after blow at me. "Hold me back!"_

My arms were wobbling, but I kept raising my sword to block the moves. When finally, my footing slipped and one of the blows slammed into my stomach hard enough to throw the air from my lungs. I dropped to the ground, staring up at the sky, wishing I were anyone else.

My father stepped into my line of sight while I heaved in breaths. "Come on, let's do it again."

I shook my head unable to form the words.

He shook his head too, a stern expression on his face. "You wanted to know your bloodline. This comes with it. If Dexthorpe gets overrun with knights, you may have to fight your way out. You need to know how."

" _I can't." I wheezed._

" _You've been fighting since you were a babe. I know you can do it, because if you can't defend yourself, you've got nothing."_

I wanted to roll my eyes so hard, but I gripped his outstretched hand instead and let him help me to my feet.

"Defense." I said, stepping into the ring of wood and keeping my eyes on Enders.

He arched an eyebrow at my silence. "Taking advice from dear ol' dad?"

I shrugged and let myself grin a little. "Are we doing this or do you want to stand around and gossip?"

His grin was weak, but it was there. He looked down at his wooden sword and inspected its edges. "Alright, I mean only if you're-"

Why was he running toward me like that?

I thought for a split-second that there was a fire behind me or something, but then my mental facilities kicked into gear and I realized that, oh shite, he was taking the offensive!

I threw up my wooden sword with only a moment to spare when he collided with me and sent wobbling tremors down my arms. "Are you serious?!" I shouted at him.

"This is how fights are, unexpected and-"

Lifting my leg, I pushed him back with my sword and sent my foot racing toward his chest, my boot colliding with him with a loud thud.

He went stumbling backward and landed on his backside with a loud grunt of distaste.

I looked over him, watching as he gracefully got back to his feet and started sidestepping to his left, his sword out and at the ready. I copied him, sidestepping in the other direction. We were circling each other, when suddenly he stopped and threw himself toward me again.

I waited for a split-second, watching him barreling toward me. Then, with barely any time left, I spun out of the way.

He pulled up short and tried to turn, but I was faster than he was and kicked at the back of his knee before he had the chance.

He went down with an angry growl, but didn't stay down, opting to swing around to the right and bring me down with him.

Pulling my legs up and throwing myself up into a standing position, I was on my feet before he was.

His glare made me feel like I'd done something wrong, so I paused. "What?"

"You're fighting dirty."

"Dirty?" I reeled back, looking at him like he was a madman.

"Aye." He said, looking me over. "You're kicking out my legs."

I tilted my head at him. "Do you think knights are going to fight clean?"

I could hear Enders growl, and his look was so sharp I thought I could feel it on my skin. Goosebumps prickled along my spine as he twirled his sword in his hand. "If that's how you want to play..."

I didn't wait for him to move this time, choosing to charge at him with all the force left in my legs, taking advantage of the fact that he hadn't expected it. But, now he was onto me, and he took a moment to step backward, to the side, and grab my arm away from my sword.

He turned it backward behind me and I felt a rush of pain so hard I let out a loud scream. I prayed a moment later that it sounded manly.

Oh, is that how we're doing this?

"Ready to give up?" Enders' deep voice was gravelly, and I really couldn't tell if it was from anger or pain. I hoped it was pain, because right now he was being such an arse and I really wanted to hurt him.

A burning hot anger struck up a cord in my brain and I immediately took the sword in my hand and flipped it so the hilt of it was at the top. The hilt was thicker, heavier, and broader. I bet anything that it would hurt way more than the narrow end when I hit him over the head with it.

"Give up!" He urged a little louder.

"No!" I shouted, raising the sword, weighing it in my hand. It was thick enough to club him with. I was about two seconds from swinging it back as hard as I could.

"Hode! McBride! What the 'ell are ye doing?"

Robin Hood jogged up to look over us and we both turned to look at him.

"Sparring." I said, simply.

Robin stared at us like we'd lost our minds. He reeled back after a moment like the word finally hit him.

That's when I noticed the massive crowd of people standing around us, watching with gleeful eyes. Some of the men were laughing now, others stood shocked with a hand over their mouths.

"That's not how we spar." Robin said, looking around. "Everyone back to your duties!"

Stepping closer to us, he looked from left to right and then back to us. "For God's sake, Enders let go of his arm. Henry, were you going to beat him over the head with the broad side of your sword?"

Enders dropped my arm and put his hands on his hips, staring at me then at my sword, then back to me. His mouth hung agape like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

I tilted my head at Robin and shrugged. "Yeah."

"Good God," Robin muttered under his breath. "Your father taught you to fight like this?"

I nodded, trying to remain confident.

"Barbarian," Enders muttered under his breath.

"Coward," I spat back, in the same hushed tone.

Rubbing his face, Robin looked out over the field for a moment and then back to Enders and me. "Because it seems that the two of you have trouble getting along, you're going to be meeting out here every morning and working it out by sparring together."

"What?! No! He fights like a savage!" Enders shouted, waving a hand at me.

I snorted. "Says the man who almost broke my arm."

Enders shot me a glare that would have intimidated me had I not be so furious.

"He could have killed me with that last move!"

I snorted again. "Your skull is too thick for that."

I heard him draw in a deep breath, and my eyes drifted over to him.

His eyes were boring into me like if he could, he'd wish me away. His lips pursed into a thin line and his eyes narrowed on me.

"That's enough!" Robin boomed. "Enders, you'll mentor Henry on how we do things here and you'll spar together until you two are like halves of the same stone. You'll work together. If you can't, then you can't fight. If you can't fight, you can't stay here. Make your choice before training tomorrow morning."

With that, Robin walked away, leaving the two of us standing there.

I couldn't get sent away. I'd only been here one day, and I was already in trouble. I chewed the inside of my cheek before turning my eyes on Enders.

My eyes caught his profile as he stared after Robin's retreating form. His hair was clinging to his forehead from the effort he'd put into our fight and his tunic had spot of sweat that had bled through. I found it strange that I was winded, but he looked like he could do this repeatedly for days without sleeping.

"How long have you been here?" The question blurted from my lips without me even thinking about it.

Enders turned toward me and looked me over, then casted his eyes to the sword in his hand. "None of your business."

I nodded and fought the urge I still had to punch him in the jaw. Now would be the time to swallow your pride, my brain warned me. I didn't want to listen to the voice in my head, but it was being rational and I was not.

"Look," I said, glancing from the forest to Enders. "I know you don't like me very much, but I can't go home. I'll be here tomorrow morning."

His eyebrows furrowed at that. "Why can't you go home?"

I shrugged, trying to remain nonchalant and calm my beating heart. Enders didn't seem like the kind of person who would respond positively to 'If you aren't there, I will hunt you down and kill you.' I mulled over different approaches in my head quickly. Deciding to ignore his question, I finally muttered: "Freedom comes at a price, and I'm still trying to figure out what mine is. I won't stop fighting until I get what I want. You shouldn't either."

I began walking away from him, but stopped completely when I heard him say – with venom that would have stung if I weren't so tired: "I've been here for over a year, and I don't intend to let you ruin that for me."

"See you on the fields, then." I said, turning to him one more time before walking away, toward the bridge that sat over Rainworth Water. I let my brain run circles around this terrible situation I'd somehow managed to put myself in again.

Apparently, this was the week for trouble. I'd only assaulted Aaron a week ago, and here I was assaulting Enders. My life had been turned upside down only a week ago. Everything had been normal. I had been normal. Now, I felt like a weird impersonator.

Brainstorming ways to pull this off, I lounged on the bridge for two hours before picking myself up and trying my hand at blade-throwing.

### Chapter Six

Night came, engulfing the camp in darkness. Nobody lit any torches or started any fires. That was one of the first lessons I'd learned: no fires at night. It was precautionary, in case any of the royal knights were scouting out the area.

I slipped quietly into the cabin where twelve other men made themselves at home. There weren't enough cabins for everybody and, as Robin had told me, the men were still building cabins at the east end of the camp for everyone. It would take a while to build them, so in the meantime, I had to share the cabin with some of the other men.

Some men to my right sat hooting over some joke one of them had made. I noticed Enders in the bunch. I averted my eyes immediately, trying to avoid him and find a nice place to set up my stuff.

Was it too much to ask for some space away from the one person who could set my plans on fire?

I scanned the room and found a small cot with a blanket covering it in the corner. It was farther away from everyone else and sat secluded.

Perfect.

I walked to the cot, a set of thick blankets on the hardwood floor, and dropped my bag onto it. I placed my weapons up against the wall next to me and sat.

I ruffled through my bag, looking at my things, making sure I had everything. I hadn't brought much, seeing as most of my things were far too feminine. I had, however, managed to make off with some of my more precious items that wouldn't give my away. The one thing I had intentionally brought along with me was a hair brush, because without it I'd have to cut all my hair off.

I looked around the room again, examining the proximity of each cot to the next, discovering that there was a good distance between cots. I found it odd that no one had taken this seemingly perfect spot, but decided not to question it.

After I'd gone through my bag, I plopped it onto the floor next to me, and stretched out on the blankets. It was the most comfort I'd been in all day, even with my under-wrapping firmly in place, keeping my chest looking flat. But, I was so tired it hadn't bothered me.

My eyes fluttered as I tried to think of ways to conceal myself while feeling comfortable at the same time. I concluded it wasn't very possible. I felt my body start to slip into a comatose state, sleep overtaking my ability to think.

*~*~*

Thankfully, the dreams I'd been having about Aaron weren't making me wake up screaming anymore, but I still bolted up in a cold sweat and labored breathing.

Taking a moment to remind myself that Aaron couldn't get to me and that I was safe here, I calmed my breathing and cradled my head in my hands.

Inhale. Count to five. Exhale.

I repeated the exercise three times before I felt more evened out and calm.

Looking around, I saw the moonlight pouring in and bouncing off the floor. Everything was quiet, except for the snoring of the men and I found it a little weird that I felt so comforted by that.

I took a moment to stretch, pulling into a standing position.

That's when I noticed him, sitting there next to the window, one knee bent close to his chest with his elbow propped over it.

I paused for a moment, watching him as he watched me. I thought his eyes were a little curious, but maybe I was misinterpreting his anger and resentment as something else.

Reluctantly, I shuffled off my cot and ambled toward him, plopping down opposite him in front of the window.

I sighed, blowing out a breath and then looked up at him. "I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot."

"Oh, you think so? Is that what you call trying to kill me?" Enders asked, his voice cracking after not speaking all night. He cleared his throat to erase the exhaustion from it.

"Aye." Nodding my head, I smiled at him. "I wasn't trying to kill you. My father never intended for me to come here, so he may have taught me the most valuable moves for life and death situations. I did not realize that outlaws here had a code of right and wrong behavior in battle."

Enders turned his head away from the window and looked at me, eying me with skepticism. "Is this another one of your tricks?"

I snorted at him. "No. It's not a trick." Rubbing a hand over my face, I looked out the window. "Look, we don't have to be friends. I only desire that we get along enough for us to coexist."

Enders blew out a sigh. "You're aggravating. You know that, right?"

I shrugged. "I've come to accept it."

He snorted, but I heard the laugh he covered with it.

"I want to be sure that you'll be on the fields tomorrow."

"Yeah," he said, turning from the window to look at me. "I told you I'd be there."

I nodded and then started to push myself up.

"When you tell me why can't you go home."

I froze, my hands planted on the floor, mid-push, trying to make me stand. Turning my eyes on him, I let myself plop back on the floor. "That's none of your business."

Shite.

"Since I'm your mentor now, that makes you my business, thanks to Hood."

"Then why don't you tell me why you're here. This isn't a life any of us chose."

Enders fell quiet for a moment, then rolled his eyes at me and turned back to the window. "Whatever. I'll be there."

"Great." I said, then dragged myself back to my cot.

I was up again before the sun came up the next morning, which was insanely early, but I couldn't sleep anyway.

I rushed to collect my things and an extra change of clothes, hoping to make it to a secluded part of the river and bathe before anyone else had the chance.

I scrubbed my body quickly in the frigid water, being careful to keep my hair out of the water. It took only about ten minutes before I hopped out of the river and dove for my towel, patting myself dry and throwing on some more clothes. I fastened on my sword and bow with lightning precision. I then pulled on a holster I had managed to trade some rope for onto my thigh, slipping in some throwing knives.

Running a hand up and around the brim of my hat, I made sure it was secure where it was and made no attempt to slip down.

I was the first person on the training fields, but I didn't have to wait for long for the crowds to come rolling in.

I stood there, roaming around the fields, when my eyes scanned over the men coming closer.

Finally, I mentally breathed and suppressed the smile I felt threatening my lips.

"Hode," I nodded at him in greeting.

"McBride." He nodded back, picking up a wooden sword and ditching his sharp metallic blade at the side of the circle I stood in. "Are you ready?"

"Well, I suppose that depends on whether I can bludgeon you with the thick end of this thing." I said, flipping the sword to the other side and looking it over.

When I tossed my eyes back up to look at him, he was standing there staring at me with one eyebrow raised. "Very funny."

"I thought so, too." I said, a smile cracking my lips.

"Let's get this over with." He muttered under his breath and stretched his muscles.

I wanted to feel annoyed that he was so reluctant to mentor me, but I was too excited for that.

Suppressing a grin, I stepped further into the circle.

*~*~*

I held three throwing knives in my left hand, my right hand keeping one blade at eye-level with myself and aiming down-sight at the tree.

I exhaled slowly, a bead of sweat making its way down the side of my face as I kept my posture. I felt my shirt's wet collar on the skin of my neck.

Robin Hood had come around to check on his training fields about two hours after we'd started for the morning, and apparently happy with what he saw, pulled everyone to the archery field that sat just down the way from the swordplay circles.

That was almost six hours ago.

Some of the training men, including myself, had managed to get Robin's permission to throw knives instead of practicing archery. I stood in line, alongside several outlaws, some holding bows with arrows ready to fire, others holding throwing knives, ready to propel the small blades forward.

I stood in position. On my right stood a large man by the name of Reggie. His archery skills were good, better than my own. He'd told me in the small greeting we'd had that he'd been here for six months. On my left, however, was Enders, who held his bow at eye-level, waiting for the signal to fire his arrow into the painted target.

I noticed Enders' eyes were beginning to droop and his face was getting sunburned. He looked like he would fall over any second now, but he stayed put, his back straight and his eyes focused.

Huh, I thought, my eyes dangerously roaming over him. So, he isn't invincible.

It was clear that he refused to give up until the bitter end, and I reluctantly admired that.

My upper arms were tired and trembling from pain and exhaustion. No matter how steady I tried to hold the blade, it always shook to the sides. My eyes traced over Enders, his posture sturdy, straight, contained. I wondered where his insane resolve had come from and what I would have to do to get some of my own.

"Fire!" Robin shouted, verbally letting loose a frenzy of arrows and knives into the air.

I let my fingers slip away from the blade I'd held in my grasp, letting it fly like the others.

I watched the little blade curve through the air and slap into the grass. My blade did not hit the target.

In fact, my throwing knife landed nowhere near the target. It, instead, curved to the left, landing just after the tree bearing the painted circle on it. It was the furthest knife or arrow from the target and probably the worst aim of my life.

I shook my head as I looked down. I wasn't used to this amount of physical strain. Not to mention my focus was completely off since sparring with Enders. Fear had been creeping at my door. I was always worried that he may notice how girlish I really was because he had to touch me sometimes while we sparred. Another part of me was just intimidated by him. I'd been able to forget his presence next to me for the first hour of archery training, but five hours took a toll on a girl-posing-as-a-boy.

Although, my shots during the first hour were unmistakably great, but Robin didn't seem to notice or care.

Now, my heart raced with every shot. I felt like eyes were on me. I felt the undying need to impress – to bring respect to my father's name and legacy.

Robin shook his head as he made his way toward the left side of the tree, frustration unmistakable in his eyes. He bent over, picking up a renegade blade from the grass.

My renegade blade.

He held the knife up, his eyes looking it over as if it were a roach in his hand. He scanned the men's faces. "Who threw this?" He spoke the words with animosity and outrage.

I fell even more silent, if that were possible. My heart pounded hard against my chest, and my breathing turned to whispers in the wind. I didn't want to answer, but did I really have a choice?

"Well?!" Robin yelled, looking the crowd over, making sure his eyes landed on every single person before him.

I looked back and forth, seeing all the confused, maybe even scared, faces. I breathed in silently, before reluctantly speaking up. "I did."

Robin's eyes zeroed in on me. "You, McBride?" He asked stepping closer, looking me over.

I kept my eyes as steady as I possibly could, but exhaustion was getting the best of me. My eyes were sluggish and slow. My voice matched my eyes, sounding nothing like how I wanted to sound: "Aye."

Steeling my strength, I kept eye contact with the man. What was the worst he could do? Schedule me clean-up duty? Order that I practice all night?

Robin nodded. He held up the blade between his thumb and index finger. Fiery eyes landed on me. "This is how you throw a blade?"

He was provoking me, and I hated to admit that it was working. The air around us became thick.

I felt shock at first, but then a small ember of anger built in my gut. I narrowed my eyes evenly.

Who is he to criticize my throwing aim? Oh, who am I kidding; what kind of question is that? He's Robin Hood! He knows terrible aim when he sees it.

Robin turned his back on the men and walked toward the target tree, facing the crowd of men after several paces. He still held my blade between his index finger and thumb. "We are at a standstill, gentlemen!" He announced, looking them over.

I felt my eyes droop. I felt my body sag. I'd been so physically drained, but something emotional in me woke up. Something in me started to come alive. The more his voice rang out over them, the more awake I became, and the more my anger built.

Robin turned his eyes on the small piece of metal in his hand, a look of pure disdain on his face as he did so. "And you completely miss the target?" He took several steps back toward me. I remained calm, held my eyes even on him and pursed my lips. My eyes filled with a rage I'd only felt for the piggish men in my village.

"Your father would be disappointed, don't you think so, Henry?" Robin asked, and the sarcasm was unbearable. "If you cannot even do this, how can we expect to stop the madness happening here?!"

The more I thought on his words, the more anger burrowed in me, the more I felt the impulse to throw a blade at him. This, however, was something I could, and did, think twice about.

Robin turned his back on me and stepped toward the target again, examining the shots. He placed his hands on his hips in a somehow masculine way. "Next time, men, try to actually hit the target!"

I took in a deep breath, holding it in my lungs for as long as I could handle before letting it out. The anger continued to build up in me and my breathing was the last pathetic attempt I could give to make the anger subside.

I opened my eyes, and before I could really understand what was happening, I heard it: the whizzing of an arrow as it flew.

At first, I thought I'd missed the "Fire!" in Robin's voice, but then I realized that it was only one arrow, and everyone was staring wide-eyed as it raced ahead of them. It caught somehow gracefully on the loose fabric of Robin's sleeve and sent him stumbling forward. The sound of tearing cloth filled the air around us.

I felt as if my heart stopped.

Every man in line turned to face the direction the arrow had come from: my left side. I dropped my jaw.

Enders was holding his bow at the ready, his eyes baring down the field at Robin. Droplets of sweat came down into his face from the sweltering sun and the small hair he had above his eyes remained glued to the moisture on his forehead. The anger in his eyes was something I wished I'd never have to see again.

He dropped his bow a bit and let it hang almost limply in his right hand, which had retreated to his side.

Robin Hood stared for a moment at the ripped fabric of his shirt. His turn was slow and bewildered. His eyes roamed over the hole that now graced his tunic.

Robin looked to the target tree and saw a newly added arrow in the center of the paint: a bulls-eye, and undoubtedly the best shot of the evening. Robin turned his eyes on the all his men, and after a short second of astonishment, he smiled. A hearty chuckle followed, and my eyes darted back and forth between Robin and Enders.

I couldn't decide which behavior was odder: The laughing Robin or the infuriated Enders.

He eyed the bow that hung in Enders' hand.

"What the 'ell are ye doing, Enders?" Robin asked, stepping forward, an excited smile on his lips.

Enders said nothing as he raised one arm to wipe the sweat from his face with his sleeve.

Robin was still smiling like a child. He took a few steps back and looked to the rest of the men. "Now," he paused, looking to the crowd around them, "That" He emphasized, pointing to Enders, "is what Sherwood Forest needs. Excellent work, Enders."

Enders kept his eyes on Robin, anger boiling in his irises.

Stepping toward Enders again, Robin spoke quietly, his smile gone and his voice so deadly serious I thought I might faint. "Now go clean the stables."

"Weapons up everybody!" Robin shouted, turning away from Enders and toward the tree.

I twisted a blade in my palm, my eyes not even focusing on the tree, but instead on Enders. He casted me a glance as he turned away, glowering at me as his eyes caught mine.

At first, I didn't understand why he glowered, but then I realized it: I was grinning like an idiot.

"Fire!"

### Chapter Seven

"Hold your sword steady, Henry! You'll take the offensive stance!" Robin exclaimed as he walked in between groups of practicing men. Circles were made with wooden blocks to create several small rings for training. Robin weaved behind me, on the other side of the circle as he examined my fighting.

It had been a full two weeks since Enders sent an arrow through Robin's shirt, and things were still a little tense. Naturally, Robin had been keeping a close eye on him, making sure he was stable and trustworthy.

Robin had told the men a day or so ago that in the forest you must trust the people around you, that if you couldn't trust them, you may as well be fighting on your own.

I noticed Robin's eyes on Enders every time we were training, so by extension, Robin would keep a close eye on me as well.

Enders and I had come to an agreement about a week ago, after our fourth squabble during our first week as partners. We would spar and keep conversation to a minimum, because every time he opened that handsome mouth, I wanted to personally introduce it to my fist, and every time I said something about my father, he got all grim and dark.

He's not hiding some twisty secret in that head of his, I thought every time his lips pursed into that thin line and narrowed his eyes at me.

"Enders, you try to block and maneuver! This is your defensive stance!" Robin continued his exclamations.

Enders wiped the sweat from his forehead when Robin passed us and started shouting at other groups. He tilted his head and looked at me.

I smiled a little bit and shrugged.

Robin turned to all the other groups, shouting so everyone could hear. "Follow this pattern, all of you! One person takes the offensive, the other takes the defensive!"

Robin placed everyone in pairs, setting each group up based on their level of expertise in swordplay, placing inexperienced people with similarly inexperienced people and so on.

He stepped back after a few more explanatory words, making sure he could see everyone. "Everybody ready?!" He shouted.

A few affirmations rang out in the forest.

"Begin!"

I looked at Enders, holding a wooden sword at my side, the tip digging into the ground. "You ready to lose, Hode?"

Enders smiled at me sarcastically. "Not going to happen, McBride."

I chuckled, keeping him off guard before swinging my stick at him.

Enders was quick, throwing up his own stick to deflect the strike. The two pieces of carved wood collided, causing an intense vibration to crawl down my arms.

Enders' grimace had me grinning. "That's cheap, McBride."

"If my father taught me anything, it was how to pay attention to my surroundings." I grinned.

I hadn't noticed Enders' scowl at the time. When I thought back years later, I realized that he wasn't determined in that moment. He was frustrated, annoyed, and probably wanting – more than anything – to prove that you could be an amazing fighter without having a father.

*~*~*

I let out a loud 'Oof,' as my shoulder collided with the dirt. It didn't hurt at first, but it was frustrating. I rolled my eyes and lifted myself up to see Enders standing victoriously on the other end of the circle.

A smug grin plagued his lips. He'd stabbed the tip of his sword into the dirt and leaned against the fake sword's hilt. "Had enough?" He asked. His arrogance was unreal.

I gritted my teeth, rubbing my shoulder. "Not quite." I hissed, lifting myself from the ground and massaging the side of my arm. I knew there would be a nasty bruise; I wondered if the healer, Evie, could give my something to dull the ache that had already started.

Enders lifted an eyebrow, tapping the side of his lip twice.

I paused for a moment, raising two fingers to the side of my lips. I pulled them back, seeing on my fingers blood that I hadn't yet tasted. It was a small cut, but it bled more than I would have liked.

The smug smile that remained planted on Enders' lips made my blood boil. Sure, he'd been victorious, but he could have been just a little bit humble, right? "You should probably stop for now."

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm fine, Hode. Are you getting too tired to keep it up?"

Enders let out a small chuckle. "No, no. Simply bored of winning, that's all." He grinned at me, confidently checking his nails.

I gritted my teeth again, adrenaline rushing through my veins. My blood boiled with anger, with frustration, with hatred. He was like the boys that used to pick on me, the boys who made me feel weak and vulnerable. The boys who all rejected me because I was too masculine; because I didn't have a mom like the rest of the women did.

I raised my wooden weapon and charged at him, faking him out on his left and rushing at his right. I jabbed him quickly; he rushed a hand to cradle his side. Then I slammed the whole side of my stick into his stomach. He let out a loud, painful noise before he doubled over.

While he was vulnerable, I took the blunt end of the wooden stick and let it come down hard on his upper back. His body's collision with the dirt and grass was one that made me feel a bitter happiness.

I sauntered over to where he lay and put the wood into his side, pushing him onto his back. His breathing was ragged and labored, blood dripping down the side of his nose. He looked up at me with angry eyes.

I placed my foot just below his throat, and when he moved to stand up, I pressed down harder to keep him still. I looked down at him, keeping my foot pressed down on his chest while I moved the tip of the stick to his neck. I paused for a moment. His eyes glared holes into me. "Is that really all you've got, Hode?"

The adrenaline I'd had a few moments ago left me behind, returning me to my tired and sore state. The pain in my shoulder came back with so much ferocity that it nearly immobilized me.

I stumbled back a bit, releasing him from my foot's grip on his neck. I extended my hand, which he'd contemplated refusing, but gripped it regardless.

I lifted my head to my surroundings, realizing the eerie quietness that existed. The circles of men had stopped fighting and had turned their attentions to Enders and me.

My eyes scanned around them and before I could think about it, words were coming out of my mouth. "Show's over, men!" I yelled out in the best tone I could muster in my state of pure exhaustion. I had to admit that my voice had become considerably more masculine over the last few days.

Stepping backward, I glanced around the field.

The men all turned back to their fights. Some smiled at me before they turned, signaling that I had their approval as far as the training field went. Everyone had stayed in their circle, except for a few men who wandered from the back of the field, and I was a little proud to have been able to draw that much attention.

While I'd been looking around, Enders had pushed himself to his feet and was trying to catch his breath.

I stumbled a bit closer to Enders. "Are you okay?" I asked, leaning on my sword, which I'd stabbed into the grass.

Enders looked up from his hands and connected his eyes with mine, his eyebrow raised as always. "Aye, I'm fine."

I raised my eyebrow at him, mocking him, bringing one hand to the side of my nose and tapping it twice for him to check the blood that dripped out of the edge.

Enders chuckled, and rubbed his mouth on his sleeve. "I may have underestimated you, McBride. Maybe we should stop for a break." He turned his back to walk away.

I shrugged, momentarily forgetting about my sore shoulder and being instantly reminded by a searing pain I chose to ignore. "You scared, Hode?"

Enders paused and turned to face me again, a smug grin on his lips. He walked back into the circle and gripped the wooden handle of his sword. "Never."

### Chapter Eight

The sun started to go down over the horizon four days later.

I stood offensively in the circle. The last couple of days, I'd been out in the training circles with Enders, practicing different strategies.

Now, Enders was knocked down on his back, heaving in and letting out ragged breaths.

I stood victoriously in front of him, looking down. "Oh, come on, Hode." I chuckled, realizing a second too late how high-pitched my voice was.

The sharp sound made him grin. "Oh yeah? Manhood hit you a little late, McBride?"

I raised an eyebrow and rolled my eyes. "Say what you will. You're the one on the ground."

Enders lifted himself from the grass. "Are we going to talk or are we going to fight?" His attitude had taken a slightly more arrogant turn.

I rolled my eyes when he wasn't paying attention. "Ready?" I asked, getting into position.

He took a step forward. "Aye."

I gave him several more seconds to prepare while I raised my hand to my hair and made sure my hat was securely on my head.

I was unprepared when Enders came flying toward me, his wooden sword raised in hand, and his eyes focused.

I dodged as quickly as I could, just barely rolling out of the way. I bounded up from the ground and landed back on my feet in one fluid motion. The move was one I could probably never pull off again. Agility hadn't ever been my strong suit.

I looked around for my sword; it was a few feet away, behind Enders and totally out of reach.

Again, Enders came toward me.

I knew that we were just practicing, but fear prickled on the back of my neck.

Instead of asking for a break, I looked around us. There was nothing I could use to defend myself; nothing but my own limbs.

I ran to the side, then spun backward when Enders came toward me.

Without thinking, I flung my elbow up making the sharpest noise I'd ever heard come from the human body.

I turned around as Enders stumbled backward a bit, his eyes wide.

Enders had dropped his sword, both hands up to his face holding his nose, blood pouring through the cracks in his fingers.

I rushed over and grabbed Enders' sword which lay tossed aside. "Whoa! Enders, are you okay?!"

Enders looked down at his hands, then up to me. "I don't know, do I look okay!?" Sarcasm. "What do you have in those bones, McBride? Stone?"

I stared as the blood poured from his nose and down his forearms. "My Father taught me how to do that."

Enders rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Yeah, your father knows everything. He's so great."

I raised an eyebrow and tilted my head at him. He was angry, that much I knew, but this happened all the time. It was just a fact in the world we lived in. I looked around, relieved that no one else was on the field. Most everyone had gathered around evening fires to eat dinner.

"Enders, what's wrong with you?" My voice wasn't harsh, it wasn't even loud. I tried to remain as calm and even as I could. "You're acting belligerent."

That was the wrong thing to say. Or maybe it was just the wrong time to say it.

"I'm acting belligerent?!" Enders shouted. "What? Am I acting like an animal? No, No, Henry. I'm acting like a normal, fighting soldier. I'm doing what I have to do. You're always bragging, always acting better than everyone else. You're always talking about how great your father was and how much he taught you, but the way you fight is completely wrong. I'm not belligerent. I'm not the barbaric one." Enders hadn't yelled; his voice was level, and I was completely caught off-guard by the hatred in his tone.

He'd turned his eyes down at the blood covering his hands. Most of the bleeding had stopped, but his anger hadn't dissipated in the slightest.

I stood frozen as I let my eyes roam over Enders. My voice was momentarily caught in my throat. I couldn't decide if he was angrier than the day he shot an arrow into Robin's sleeve.

"What exactly are you holding against me? That I'm proud of my father? That I'm not as good a fighter as I should be?" My voice rose, my blood boiling in my veins. "You're not making sense, Enders. If you're going to argue with someone at least have manners!"

The incredulous look on his face was enough for me to know I'd begun pushing buttons I should not have. "You're criticizing my manners!?" Enders exclaimed at me. "At least my manners aren't totally boorish!" His voice started to shake, his fists trembling at his sides. His anger was starting to boil over. "At least I'm not disrespectful enough to show off all of my accomplishments everywhere I go!" Enders turned his face toward the ground after a long look of disgust in my direction. His cheeks and lips were flushed with blood, although the flow had stopped for the time being. He'd be all right; maybe it wasn't even broken. "I'm sure your father would be real proud, Henry."

I cringed at the malice in his voice. My body seemed to thaw out and I could move and think again. I was going to respond, but as he turned to walk away my heart began a dull ache in my chest. He was gone before I had the chance to do or say anything else.

I shook my head, trying to calm my racing nerves.

Nothing worked.

Of course, I always talked about my father, because it was the only thing I had in common with everyone else here.

I wasn't a soldier. I wasn't anything like these men. I wasn't even a man.

I guess that means training is over for the day, I thought to myself. The sarcasm in my head was almost unbearable, even to me. I picked up my own sword in my right hand and bent down to pick up Enders' up in my left.

That's when I noticed the little pendant sitting in the grass, gleaming in the sunlight. Pausing for a moment, I passed by the training stick and grabbed the pendant, looking looked it over in my hand.

There was writing in the small wooden square, hanging from a small leather strap.

I'd seen Enders wearing it every day since I'd met him – even back in Dexthorpe, I'd seen it around his neck.

Flipping over the worn, wooden square, I read the words "Eden, my son. Inheritor of the forest."

I lifted an eyebrow at the words, completely baffled by their meaning. I shrugged it off and shoved the necklace into my pocket, bending to pick up Enders' training stick. I made the three-minute walk to the cabin that both Enders and I stayed in along with eleven other men.

I stepped into the small building, the setting sun casting its last rays through the window and onto the hardwood floor. It was empty. Not even Enders had resolved to go to the cabin. I scanned the hay cots, trying to remember where Enders slept.

It wasn't hard to spot his cot. It was the only one that was kept neat and clean, well-made and well-folded. I shook my head and let out a small huff.

And I called him ill-mannered.

Walking to his mattress, I placed his sword on the right side of it.

I took the moment to look over the way he arranged his things. I wondered what his life was like before he'd come here. Maybe he was a totally different person.

I sighed and walked to my own cot, collapsing on it. I let the cot cradle my sore limbs. I was asleep before anyone even came in.

*~*~*

The sun came up the next morning, touching my eyes and making me stir. I groaned for a moment, stretching my arm up before opening my eyes. It took a full five minutes to get my tired eyes to open.

That's when I saw no one.

The cabin was completely empty. Bed spreads were sprawled all over the floor; training gear was missing from every space.

I gaped at the emptiness, immediately pushing myself up and rushing to grab my weapons. I attached them to myself, rushing out of the cabin and stumbling over everything in my way as I forced myself forward.

I double checked myself as I ran for the training area, my heart thumping wildly in my chest.

Robin would never let anyone forget it if they'd forgotten something. Robin had warned me that they would only be using the wooden weaponry during training because they needed everyone alive, and because of some casualties they'd suffered before. The real, metal blades were supposed to be used only for real combat. Robin had made a big show of another young man, Andrew, when he'd forgotten his wooden sword. It had been painful to watch.

I barreled past a group of men Aldridge Chadwick was mentoring, some of the men watching as I flew on wobbling legs toward the other end of camp.

I was almost certain that I looked like a total mess, but I didn't care. I needed to get to the field as soon as I could.

With the field finally in sight, I approached the training area where Robin hosted a group of trainees. He was perched at the side as usual, half watching them, half critiquing them.

I took several paces forward, looking over the group. I spotted a sweaty Enders practicing swordplay with another man in one of the farther circles.

He's here. He didn't wake me. No one woke me.

A wave of frustration and rage washed over me as I narrowed my eyes on him, even though he couldn't see it.

I saw some of the men flash me mischievous smiles.

Ah, so these men thought this was some joke. I settled for giving them a small, confident smile back – even if I didn't feel it. I didn't feel confident at all. I felt betrayed, and it sank deep into my heart.

I was convinced that what had happened yesterday would be mended. In the time I'd spent here, blending in with them, I knew Enders the most. We may not have agreed on anything at all, but we were polite with each other, and we spent more time together than we did with anyone else.

And, somehow, I'd gotten the impression that he was not one to hold a grudge. Hadn't he been reasonable most of the time?

That was what I'd thought anyway.

"McBride!" I heard my name being called. I knew who it was before I turned to my right to face him.

"Yes, sir?" I said.

My voice had improved at least. I wasn't so afraid to speak when I could fake the masculine tone so well. I wondered if I would be stuck speaking that way for the rest of my life.

"You're late." He said, walking toward me. Gray strands of hair stood out among the brown. His eyebrow was raised in question.

I furrowed my eyebrows at him for a moment. I couldn't place it, but there was a fleeting sense of familiarity. It was gone before I could give it much more thought. Shaking my head of the notion, I spoke: "Aye."

Robin put his hands on his hips, his eyebrow still an arch over his right eye. "No excuse?"

I tried to keep my eyes even. I had the strongest urge to turn my gaze to Enders, but refused. Sure, he hadn't woken me, but I was an adult. I was responsible for myself. "None, sir."

Robin nodded. "Alright." He scanned the area and all the men who were fighting. Most had stopped fighting to watch; Others pretended that they weren't paying attention. Outlaws weren't ever very coy.

No one had ever been late to training.

No one.

The men's eyes were on me because everyone was curious how this would play out.

"Is there anyone unpaired here?" Robin asked to the crowd. Everyone murmured and then looked around.

I looked Enders' way. His eyes felt like a burning coal on my skin. Another thought struck me, because never once had I felt nervous about his eyes on my skin, but now, I kind of felt awkward. It felt like his very look was making me feel weak. I felt self-conscious, but let my eyes remain steady on his for a moment. I wanted him to feel my discomfort, but I broke before he did and turned back toward Robin.

Enders' apparent betrayal stung me, but my anger had dissipated into a distant pain in my chest.

He'd been my only ally here. So much for that.

I reached a hand up to make sure my hair was still neatly tucked into my hat. The act had started to make sure I wouldn't be caught, but now it had become a nervous habit.

Robin turned back to me and started thinking aloud. "Well, Enders already has a partner." Enders didn't look phased by the mention of his name. I returned my eyes to him for only a moment before he averted them. "So, you'll be practicing with me today."

I snapped my eyes to Robin so fast I felt dizzy. The mad grin on his face would have been hilarious if he'd been saying that to anyone but me. I felt my chest tighten; my palms were beginning to sweat.

I was practicing with Robin Hood? I'd lose – tenfold.

"Come on." Robin was on the move, walking toward the back of the field where one, lone, free circle sat totally unoccupied.

I tried to fight my racing heart as I walked after Robin. I felt the eyes of a field of men on me. I felt the apprehension in my chest, my heart beating wildly against my breast. I felt the blood coursing through my veins and the fear of a lifetime well up in my stomach. The other men followed a few steps behind me and made a large semi-circle surrounding where I was going to practice.

Robin pulled up his wooden sword and took the defensive.

I looked at him for a long moment. Shaking my head, I said "no."

Robin, cocking his head to the side, rested his right hand on his hip, and looked me over. "What?"

"You're taking the defensive side. You never take defensive. I know you've trained with my father. You know all his moves." I tried to stand firm. My legs shook beneath me. I let my head tilt to the side in confusion as my right eyebrow arched over brown eyes. Then, things finally came together in my head. Everything untangled like a stubborn rope. "You're looking for a weakness."

Robin lifted his chin, staring down his nose at me. He stayed that way for only a moment before breaking into a grin. "You're good." He moved into the offensive position without another word.

"My father taught me." Shrugging, I shot a glance at Enders.

He was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read, and for once he didn't get dark and grim at the mention of my father.

I had meant the comment to strike him, but his face was construed in anxiety. His jaw was hung slightly ajar. Two semi-arched eyebrows sat over beautifully crafted eyes, and two inches of brown hair stuck to his forehead.

I forced my attention away from him and back to Robin.

"Ready?" Robin asked, twirling the stick in his hand.

I exhaled an unsteady breath, my heart pounding in my chest. "Aye." I kept my sword at my side. My eyes roamed the circle around me. I was out of options and ideas.

Robin raised an eyebrow when I didn't move for the defensive. He sighed, hesitant. "Alright."

I let the sword hang at my side. Why should I be on the defense? Why couldn't I attack him? My mind was made up in a matter of milliseconds; I was going to be on the offensive. He'd have no choice but to defend. I could have the upper hand – if I played this right, if I caught him completely by surprise.

Robin lifted the wooden sword and charged forward.

I dove to the side and rolled out of the circle. I kept my eyes on him, expecting him to pause. Instead, he gave a small nod and charged again, his eyes watching me like a hawk watches its prey.

This time I shifted to the side by a foot or two, missing the wooden sword by just a few inches. The adrenaline started to pump through my veins, and my shaking hands had become steady. Without a second thought, I swung the practice sword to my side and let it collide painfully with Robin's leg.

His small yelp of pain almost caught me off-guard.

The men who were supposed to be training had already stopped and kept their eyes on the fight going on before them. A few, I noticed, let out sounds of sympathy when my sword crashed into Robin's shin.

A distraction, I thought to myself, that's all they are. I heard people talking about me; my name rang out once or twice amid three dozen men.

Robin swung low, while my brain worked twice as hard to keep my focus on the fight. My feet suddenly felt stiff and shaky. My boots felt like they were sinking in the mud. The grass ached to console my broken body.

I saw it coming, but only at the very last second, and jumped. I careened to the side, kicking the sword with the tip of my boot. It was enough to make my heart pause, to make my palms sweat, to make the fear of God rise in my chest, but I made it safely over the sword without falling to the ground.

The second my feet met the Earth, I summoned all the strength I had left and swung my stick to the right, letting it hurtle through the air at my stomach's level. I felt the vibrations of a solid hit before I saw that it had collided with something.

My eyes landed on Robin, his form doubled over and clutching his abdomen.

A struggled grunt escaped his lips and he turned his eyes up to meet mine.

Rage was the first thing I registered in his eyes. While my eyes were nothing but panicked about this encounter, his were getting angry. He did not like losing, that much I knew already, but losing to a somebody young and new? Now, that was enough to cause a damn war.

Robin pinned himself straight and charged fast. I saw the pain in his face, but he pushed it away.

I raised my sword up to deflect the blow, which sent a million small vibrations through the wood and into my sweat-slicked palms. I was losing control on the situation – and it was happening fast. I felt my palms begin to slide down the wooden handle, almost escaping my grasp.

Robin retreated only a foot. A foot wasn't much, but it was enough to compose myself.

I made a small back step and charged toward Robin, my sword held at my side. He deflected the blow with what looked like ease – or arrogance. I couldn't tell with him anymore.

My arms were sore, strained, and began to tremble as we tumbled into the cabin area, passing the bridge, and almost bursting into the kitchen area of camp.

Men from all over camp had decided that this was much more interesting than what they'd been doing and decided to follow.

Robin was pushing me back with every move and every step. He'd lunge for me and I would barely miss the attack. I'd lunge back, but he was skilled and was able to completely dodge, shifting away, taking advantage of my ignorance.

When we approached the bridge the second time, Robin had reached out a hand, grabbed my arm, and tried to toss me into the river waters next to us. I didn't regret the hard stomp I gave to his foot and the bone-chilling bite I took of his hand.

Sneaky, sore-losing bastard.

Robin had found that my leg strength had surpassed my arm strength. It was something he hadn't expected, but hell if he was going to pass up the opportunity to use that information.

Neither of us were winning, but neither were losing either, and that was something that completely terrified me, and enraged Robin.

No one had ever fought Robin this way. Everyone thought he was kind of invincible, someone who would always be on the winning end of things. Nobody counted on him being human, but he didn't look too shocked that it was a McBride that was willing to take up the mantle.

Robin lunged at me again, ragged breathed, but not completely drained like I was.

It took everything in me to dodge, and even then, the side of the wooden sword nicked my arm as I drew myself away.

The men around me began to murmur again. I heard one man mention that the fight could end in a draw. I felt a rise of frustration in my chest – I'd be damned if I didn't fight this out until I was on the verge of death.

I heard my father's name then. My strength built form it. It was a moment of weakness, of arrogance. My pride was swollen by the recognition, but when my eyes shifted up to the crowds of men around us, they landed on one set of brown irises looking back at me.

My heart stopped in my chest. Every noise stopped around me. The distraction lasted for only a moment, but that moment was just enough for the fight to be over.

When my eyes landed on Enders', they had lingered for too long. Why the hell did I care that he was there? I shook the thought from my head and tried to move on.

My feet faltered in their movement as I tried to get myself together, while I stared blankly at where Robin stood.

Robin's sword made a harsh collision into my midsection. My guttural cry of pain seemed almost foreign in my mouth. I doubled-over, clutching my abdomen with my left hand. My right hand still held my fingers around the wooden sword in a faint grasp, using all the energy I had left not to drop it.

My yelp of pain was feminine; much to feminine for my own good. I thought for sure I was done. Everyone would know, but instead laughs burst out.

It was something I'd call good timing – or a miracle; I really couldn't decide.

The laughing threw me off guard, but it made Robin arrogant. His ego was boosted. His men wouldn't doubt him because of this win. I shook my head, even though I stood in half, my left hand cradling my stomach as a harsh pain took over the skin.

The pain was searing for a second, but the longer I looked at Robin, the stronger my grip on my sword became. I straightened myself out while Robin was focused on being arrogant with the men around him.

I tried to stand as tall as I could and with everything left in me, I raised one leg and kicked him hard in the gut. He stumbled backward, barely managing to maintain his balance.

The men stopped laughing.

They stopped talking.

They stopped everything.

I knew better than to walk over and see if he was okay. He was more strategic than I was, and I knew he would take me down easily.

My world started to spin, the pain in my stomach rising as the strength to fight abandoned me. The left side of my body grew weaker with every second; after only three seconds, I felt my legs collapse under me, knees folding as my bottom made its impact with the ground. My head fell back, my lungs dragging in ragged breaths. I thought it would take ten years to have normal functioning lungs again.

Robin took the risk of stepping forward and looking down at me on the ground. He coughed twice as he took in labored breaths. "McBride," He reached one hand out to me, extending his help. "That was one of the best matches I've had in years."

I took in a deep breath, a small smile playing on my lips.

"Thank you," I said, unwilling to balloon up his ego by attaching a "sir" at the end. I grasped his hand and let him help me to my feet.

"Don't be late again. You came this close to getting sent away."

I nodded, unable to say anything more. A mixture of relief and regret washed over me like a crashing wave.

I'd almost failed.

*~*~*

Training had been intense.

After my match with Robin, one of the men had gotten sick, so a young man named Reggie was left without someone to train with.

I gladly took the sick man's place rather than try and mend things with Enders quite yet.

Reggie was a big man. Short brown hair sat upon his head, and clean amber eyes sat under dark lashes. He was bold, but cunning from what I could tell. I remembered seeing him climb a tree like it was a ladder. He may have been wide, but his capabilities were endless. His thick arms and legs were an advantage in this forest.

I reached out my hand and gripped his when he offered. "Henry McBride. I think we've met?"

Reggie nodded at me. I could feel an air of reluctance about him. "Reginald Chaldean. Everyone calls me Reggie."

Reggie smiled before he hesitantly looked at his weapon. "I know it's been a pretty tough day. What if, for now, we go a little easy on each other, yeah?" He offered.

I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. I tried to cover it, but it was evident in the way my body relaxed from the suggestion. It was an offer I would willingly accept. "That would be nice. Thank you, Reggie." I said, in my best masculine tone once again.

Reggie simply nodded, holding up his sword. "Let's fight." He exaggerated with a chuckle.

We didn't fight long, only enough to pass the time and relax from the trying day.

Reggie confided in me, telling me that he'd lost four matches today. He was having an off week, he explained, it was hard being away from home.

I completely sympathized, telling him I felt the exact same way. Even though it wasn't exactly manly in their book, I wanted Reggie to know everyone felt the same way he did.

I was on my way back to the cabin around sundown. I meandered through a shortcut, following a dirt path. On my right were some of the closer cabins; if I followed the path another ten yards, my cabin would be sitting on the far left, overlooking the river. I felt like home every time I saw the chipped wood on the outside, heard its creaky steps, and smelled the beautiful archaic oak that made up its walls.

I didn't get that far.

"McBride!" Will Scarlett saw me from a distance and jogged to me.

I didn't speak to him much, but he'd always been friendly to me – maybe because of my father.

"Scarlett," I said, greeting him, and slowing to a stop for him.

"Hood wants to see you and Enders in his cabin."

I nodded. "I'll head there, then. Thank you." I said, but he was already jogging off to somewhere else.

I was one corner away from my cabin – my cot – but I turned around and headed to the other end of the camp again.

It took five minutes for me to drag myself to the cabin and knock on the door.

It flung open in a matter of seconds, and as I walked in, offering a greeting to Robin, I spotted Enders leaning against the wall on the opposite end of the cabin.

"Took you long enough." Enders mumbled, obviously still annoyed with me.

I shrugged. "If you can walk so well, you aren't spending enough time on the field."

Enders rolled his eyes and then cracked his neck, letting his eyes roam to another part of the cabin.

"No, please," Robin said, clearly angry, his arms crossed over his chest. "Let me know when you're done pissing all over each other."

I shrugged and backed up to lean against the cabin wall. I didn't want to get into with Enders again and I found that I didn't have the will to fight at that moment.

"Good." He said and then turned toward his table. "Well, not good, actually. We need supplies from Fenwick."

"Fenwick usually send the supplies with Phillip." Enders said, earning himself a hard look from Robin.

"Do you think I don't know that, Enders?"

Enders shook his head and then gestured for him to continue.

"Phillip is dead. He was executed for conspiring with outlaws."

"Where?! In Fenwick?!" Enders shouted.

I felt my jaw go slack. I didn't know who Phillip was, but if people were being executed in Fenwick, we were going to have problems. Big problems.

"No. He was arrested on suspicion of collaborating with outlaws. He was executed in Newark Castle." Robin said, rubbing his chin. "He was tried before the king."

I felt like my chest would explode at that.

"So, I'm sending you to Phillip's widow to retrieve the supplies he was supposed to bring."

"Both of us?" I asked, chancing a glance at Enders and seeing his dumbstruck expression on Robin.

"Yes." Robin narrowed his eyes on me. "You two don't work well together. I've never had this much trouble with two of my men since Little John was young. If you can't handle this task you shouldn't even be here."

"I usually do supply runs with Alton." Enders said, pushing off the wall and physically trying to maintain his composure.

"You get along with Alton. You need to get along with Henry now." Robin took in a deep breath. "Look, I don't know why you men find it so difficult to work together, but if you can't work together, I'm sending you back to where you came from."

Enders groaned and then looked at the cabin.

"Do you have a problem, Enders?" Robin spoke through gritted teeth.

"He's a savage, Hood!" Enders complained, tossing a hand in my direction. "He can't fight, he uses brutal tactics, he brags about his father! Please, let me do this with Alton!"

Robin took a step toward Enders and crossed his arms over his chest. "Henry holds his own against you, and his tactics are brutal because we live in a brutal world. Harrison taught him well. There's good reason for Henry to brag. You would brag as well if you had a father like that."

"No, I wouldn't." Enders growled.

My eyebrows shot up at the venom in Enders' voice.

"It looks like you want to go back to whatever filthy town you came from." Robin said, stepping closer to Enders and narrowing his eyes on the young outlaw.

Enders dragged in a breath, his eyes holding onto Robin's for an angry moment. Then, finally he took two steps back and averted his eyes to the cabin ceiling. "When do we leave?"

I cocked my head at him. I didn't want to leave Sherwood, but from the look of things, Enders was hiding something dark and twisty in that brain of his.

"Now." Robin said. "And, so help me God, if you two can't get along when you come back. I'm sick of being appraised of the shite you keep pulling on the field. Do you both understand me?"

"Yes, sir." I said.

"Enders will show you what provisions you need, Henry."

Enders only nodded and left the cabin so quickly I thought he might leave the camp without me.

I closed the door on my way out and jogged to the cabin I stayed in, because I refused to let Enders leave me behind. I refused to let him be the reason I got sent home as a disgrace to my father's name.

Bursting into the cabin, I scurried to my pack and snatched it from the ground. It was light, having only a change of clothes, my hairbrush, and a few small things I'd taken from home.

My fingers worked the latch of the top while let my eyes roam the building. There were a few men sleeping, other playing cards, and then there was Enders, who sat angrily throwing things into his bag.

Finally, the latch on my bag came free and I flipped the leather top open, checking to make sure I had everything.

But, I froze, a panic sweeping over me when I realized that my hair brush was gone.

My eyes swept over the ground, trying to find it on the floor, but I didn't see it. My heart started thumping wildly in my chest, but no matter where I looked it wasn't there.

I gritted my teeth when I heard the cabin door slam shut, turning to find Enders gone.

I scanned the ground one more time, but saw nothing.

Stalking to the door, I double-checked everything in my bag. My things were in there, undisturbed. Then, there was Enders' pendant, which I'd yet to return. Maybe if he wasn't such an arse all the time, I'd give it back to him.

I ran after Enders, meeting him at the stable, while he saddled up his horse. I had to work quickly to keep up with him. I saddled my horse in record time, and Enders only had to wait three minutes for me to mount the mare and set off behind him.

Enders did all the talking at the gate, which I was quietly happy with, because I would have fumbled over my words on how to explain why we were leaving.

Everything was silent for a long time, and I was painfully aware of the awkwardness that sat in me.

Maybe for Enders it was different. He never once looked back at me. Instead, he was focused on the road and only the road.

While he was completely calm and focused, I was completely confused as to where we were going. I chewed on the inside of my cheek. My father had taught me many things, but never the map of the villages in Nottinghamshire. My village had been in Lincolnshire, so Nottinghamshire was completely out of the way, but now I was wishing I'd asked about the rest of England.

"Where is Fenwick?" I asked.

That caught Enders' attention, and he turned his head to the side to look at me, and then he looked back at the road. "It's a day's ride north. We'll camp out when the moon rises."

"We'll camp in the woods?" I asked, unsure of how to feel about the prospect.

"Yes."

Well, someone is grouchy.

I looked down at the horse and my seat, seeing the greens and browns of my clothing. How were we going to walk into Fenwick dressed like this? Wouldn't the knights see us the second we walked in and attack us without question? I debated with myself about whether I should ask about it. Clearly Enders knew what he was doing, so if he wasn't worried about it, maybe I shouldn't either. But, I cracked under the curiosity. "Do we need to change our clothes before we get there?"

He arched an eyebrow, but didn't bother to look at me. "Why would we do that?"

"We're dressed as outlaws. Won't we be attacked?" I asked, my eyes on him even though his were trained on the pathway.

"How many times have you left Dexthorpe?" Enders asked, condescending as his eyes landed on me.

"How did you know I'm from Dexthorpe?" I asked, but my voice sounded more like an accusation. My eyebrows scrunched together in horror and confusion.

"I send correspondence to your father sometimes, whenever Andrew is too busy." He said, pointing his eyes forward again.

I remained silent for a moment, trying to decide if I should tell the truth. Finally, I relented. "I've never been out of Dexthorpe."

"Never?" He asked, but he didn't believe me. "I've been to Dexthorpe recently and I never saw you there."

I drew in a deep breath, and tried to quell the irritation I now felt growing in my chest. I wished he would just stop asking questions. "I was doing cattle work for my father."

"Speaking of your father," Enders said. "He didn't seem ill in the slightest to me. What did you come down with?"

I swallowed down the frustration and looked at him. "Why do you care?"

"Because he's one of us." Enders said. "And, I think you're lying."

"About what?" I demanded. My blood boiled and pumped hard in my chest. I was both horrified that he was onto me, and agitated that he would downright accuse me of something, even if he was right.

"Everything."

"Why would I lie about anything?" I asked him, my jaw clenching after my words.

"Good question. Why don't you answer it for me?" His head turned to me, and those angry, brown eyes pierced me.

I said nothing, choosing to stare at him with clenched teeth and eyes that burned with my thrumming blood.

"Your stories don't add up, McBride. I can't help but wonder why." His eyes remained on me, stabbing into me like little knives trying to break down the barrier of lies I'd built around me.

I said nothing for a long moment, but found that his gaze was too intrusive. It was too strong to ignore. So, instead, I spoke through gritted teeth: "the clothing?"

"We aren't dressed as outlaws." He said, an annoyed sigh escaping him as he turned his eyes away from me after an appraising moment. "We're dressed as hunters. The colors of our clothes don't mean anything. You'll see when we get to Fenwick that people are dressed in all kinds of colors. Some might look exactly like us."

"How did the Dexthorpe villagers know you and Alton were outlaws, then?" I asked.

Enders tilted his head as he stared ahead of him. Then, he turned toward me. "How did you know we were there?"

I tried to mask the sudden strike of panic and fear that dove up my spine. I snorted, looking at him with a dull expression. "I heard it from everyone in the village."

"What about your sister? Did she tell you?" Enders asked, his eyes narrowed on me.

My blood thrummed hard in my veins. I took a split-second to think about it. If I were Henry and my sister ran into an outlaw, wouldn't she tell me? Yes, I thought she would. So, I ran with that. "Aye, she did. Says you ran right into her, that you had no awareness whatsoever."

Alright, I was being petty. I also didn't give a damn. If he was going to try and dig into my life like he belonged there, I'd try my best to get on his nerves.

"You've got that backwards." He said with a roll of his eyes.

"That's not how she told it." I said, trying to desperately to grasp for anything to drive the conversation in a different direction. "So, how can we walk around dressed like normal people, but people know we're outlaws?"

Enders sighed another annoyed breath.

Okay, Enders, I get it. I annoy you.

"It's about how we carry ourselves. In Dexthorpe, things got messy the first time I went. Your father specified that he didn't want any outlaws near his home, so, we were told to tell the innkeeper, who would tell his wife, who would tell the miller, and the miller would bring your father to us." Enders shrugged at that. "But, one of the village girls overheard the conversation and discovered we were outlaws. After that, we didn't need to hide it, so we started being normal."

"Boisterous, you mean." I said.

"I thought you didn't see us."

"My sister's description is apt, I find."

"I have no doubt. She is quite lovely." He said, retightening his grip on the reins of his horse.

I felt taken aback by the compliment, my whole body freezing at the words. No one had ever complimented me before, other than my father, of course. My father had showered me with love and affection after he saw how I didn't fit in with the other women of our village, but no one else had ever told me I was lovely - let alone a man. I shook it off, opting to think about it later when I could smile about it without someone accusing me of being a liar for it - which I thought might do since he already had a disdain for me. "So," I said. "We're dressed as hunters, but it's illegal to hunt in the king's forest. How does that work?"

"Poaching is illegal. I'm authorized to hunt in the king's forest in Nottinghamshire."

"How?" I asked, not even trying to keep the skepticism from my voice.

"I have a seal from the sheriff of Nottingham." He said, his head turning to look at me.

"Is it a legitimate seal?" I asked, eyebrow arched.

He stared at me for a long moment and then huffed out the smallest laugh. "No. We have a supporter in Knaptoft village who fabricates them for us."

"Knaptoft? That's in Leicestershire. How would this person even know what the sheriff of Nottingham's seal looks like?"

"He's the sheriff's nephew. He started helping Robin Hood when King Wesley slaughtered his parents for treason. Apparently, the evidence was circumstantial and could have belonged to anyone else. I'm not sure about the details. Upon Robin's advisement, he moved to Leicestershire so he'd be out of the sheriff's control, in case he was caught."

"Did the sheriff not care that his family was killed like that?"

Enders shrugged. "Apparently, he didn't care much for his sister and her husband."

I took in a deep breath, my heart sinking.

After that we stopped talking, my mind running. How could people be so callous? It was unforgivable.

We traveled in silence from sundown until the moon rose. The silence didn't really bother me. What bothered me was knowing that I had somehow made an enemy out of Enders.

He had dismounted his horse without a word to me and immediately started a fire while I fed the rest of our apples to the horses.

It was like that for a while, then finally, Enders collapsed on the ground and stared at the now roaring fire.

At first, my feet refused to be moved toward the fire, the deepest of all sighs running along my gritted teeth. A minuscule frustration built in my tummy and rose to my chest, but it was overridden by a heavy sorrow in my soul.

I only had one option if I wanted to stay in Sherwood: I would have to talk to Enders and mend things so we could continue training together. This whole mission was intended to make us a more cohesive team, and this is where I could start.

Sighing, I walked to the fire, my legs wobbling with anticipation at the coming conflict. The leaves and foliage crunched under my feet.

I sat down hesitantly across the fire.

His stare remained unbroken from the fire.

I didn't know what to say so I stayed silent. The silence dragged on for a full two minutes, my eyes fixated on the dancing flames. I twiddled my fingers in my lap and let the air grow thick around us.

The silence became too much. I turned my head in his direction, my eyes cast away from him.

"Do you have a family?" His voice came out strained and caught me by surprise.

"Yes," I said and rose my eyes to Enders.

He sat quietly, staring at the flames with arched eyebrows. He wore so many things in his eyes: defeat, anxiety, exhaustion. I couldn't decide which was chief among them.

My pulse thumped hard in my throat, and I did not like it. Not one bit.

"Why do you ask?" I tried to relax as I propped one leg up and rested my arm on my knee.

Enders shrugged. He sighed and looked down at something I couldn't see through the flames. "Who is your family?"

"You know of my father."

Enders chuckled sarcastically. "You're telling me it's only you and your father?"

I felt like slapping myself, finally. Was he trying to catch me slipping up? I thought that's what he was trying to do. "I have a sister. It's only the three of us."

"No mother?"

I furrowed my eyebrows. "She died when I was a babe."

Enders nodded. "That must have been hard on your father to have lost both of his wives."

Both? I was so confused for a moment before I understood that my – Henry's – mother was a different woman than mine - Harlow's. "Aye."

"How much younger than her are you?" Ender's eyes were on me again, staring at me like he was both annoyed and curious.

"A year," I blurted out without thinking. "Why?"

Enders shrugged. "I've met Harlow. Not more than a month ago, I happened upon her in Dexthorpe." Enders said, his fingers fiddling with something out of sight. A quiet moment fell between us before he added: "This belongs to her, I assume?"

He held up, in his right hand, my hair brush.

Every nerve in my body went cold, and I was certain that I went so pale I could have blended in with winter snow. I had to suppress the urge to throw out my hand and take back the brush. "Aye." I kept my response simple, because I knew if I said anything more, I would have stumbled over my words.

"Come to think of it," Enders said, turning to face me, "I've never seen you take off that hat."

My lips parted as my eyes remained fixed on him. His body sat straight and strict. One skeptical eyebrow sat arched over his left eye.

I struggled to find something to say to him, but nothing came.

"Care to explain?" Enders turned his gaze on the fire and the treetops beyond, letting the hairbrush dangle between his fingertips.

"I don't have to explain myself to you." I said with less authority and power than I would have liked.

"Then this means nothing to you, then?" He lifted it over the fire, threatening to let it drop into the flames.

I felt my blood start to thrum in my veins. Should I let him drop the brush and deal with tangled hair every day for God knew how long, or should I give him some explanation?

Clearing my throat, I tried to calm my nerves. "My sister gave it to me before I left home. It's a keepsake to remember her while we're separated."

Enders stared at me, as if he were trying to decide if I was telling the truth. "And, the hat?"

"It keeps my head dry from sweat during the summer and warm during the winter."

Enders said nothing, opting to stare at me like he was still making up his mind.

"Would ye' give me the brush back? Harlow will be angry if I lose it." I tried to deliver the words as deadpan as I could.

Enders, seeming satisfied for the time being, tossed the brush back to me. "You're hiding something, McBride."

I nodded, too exhausted to deny the accusation. "As are you, but I don't go around digging into it." Pushing up to my feet, I dusted off the dirt from my pants and shoved the hairbrush into my pocket. "Hood demanded that we get along with each other, so I intend to be friendly. Do you agree to an amicable relationship?"

"Sure," Enders said, slowly turning his head to look at me. "If you tell me what you're hiding."

I huffed out a frustrated sigh. "You're irritating, you know that, right?"

"I've come to accept it," Enders said, tilting his head at me. It an echo of the same exact words we'd said to each other a month ago.

I tried to think of things to say, but nothing popped up for a while. It was only after two minutes of a semi-uncomfortable silence that one idea flew into my head. I wrestled myself, wondering whether it was a good thing to say. Finally, I admitted defeat and broke the silence in the least awkward way possible.

"Do you know the tale about Little John and the Cook?"

Enders nodded, a broken piece of wood twirling in his fingers. "Aye. It's one of the best."

With an exhausted sigh, I rubbed my eyes and leaned on my other foot. "There's a bit of that story missing."

Enders tilted his head and looked at me from under his eyelashes. "What do you mean?"

I looked out on the lake. "I mean that the cook actually fell in love with this woman. She was a very important, high-class, high-status woman."

Enders turned his eyes back to the fire as the moon set itself higher and the crickets sounded louder. His lips pursed and his eyebrows knit together above brown eyes. If he were a dog, his ears would have perked upright. I saw his reluctance at giving me his rapt attention.

I hushed my voice a bit in sadness. "That woman died for the love they shared; punished by the sheriff and the king. After all, the cook is a lowly peasant-type. They can't mingle blood."

Enders' frame dropped an inch, and I found myself curious as to why.

I let my voice fall lower, only above a whisper. "That woman was Harlow's mother, and you wouldn't know it if you looked at him, but my father makes a mean beef stew."

Enders' shock was written all over his face, his eyes conveying the deepest of sympathies.

I almost laughed at it. This was the life I lived every day, and it was not deserving of his sympathies.

"I knew Harlow's mother had died, but I didn't know your father was The Cook."

I shrugged. "He keeps it out of the tales."

Enders looked back to the crackling fire for a moment. "Who was your mother then?"

I arched an eyebrow at him. "You demanded I tell you what I was hiding and I did. You did not specify that I tell you everything I was hiding."

"Really?" He asked, irritated.

"Amicable or not?" I asked, so ready to collapse into the leaves and sleep until dawn.

"Aye," Enders said, bringing his eyes up to look at me. "I'm going find out what you're hiding, McBride." Enders said, grimly.

"I have no doubt that you will," I said honestly, "I'm only hoping to buy myself some time before that happens."

I reached one hand into my pocket and pulled out the leather strap pendant. I'd been thinking about it nonstop since I'd picked it up, but I had no explanation about what the words meant. Maybe Eden was Enders' middle name? Maybe this was a gift from his mother? Maybe the sentence was the meaning of his name?

Pushing the thoughts aside, I held the leather strap out to him.

I took only a moment to read his expression – pale, confused, and frustrated – before I tossed the pendant and strap to him.

"Where the hell did you get this?" He demanded, catching it and clutching it in a tight fist, as if he wanted to hide it from my sight.

"It was in the grass in the training fields."

"When?" He demanded, his eyes narrowing into slits on me.

"A few days ago. When you were angry at me and left."

"And you kept it this whole time!?" He had to work to keep his voice low.

Shrugging, I said "looks like we both have secrets."

I walked away from him and headed toward the horses, where I could finally relax against a tree without worrying about his angry eyes.

### Chapter Nine

"I'll get the supplies. Stay with the horses."

I wanted to fight the command in his words, but I couldn't. He was already gone when I opened my mouth to protest his departure.

Instead, I stood next to the horses until the sun was high in the sky.

Fenwick was small, so I had assumed that he'd show his face back at the inn we'd let our horses – and myself, I supposed – rest at for the morning. But, that never happened. Instead, I watched people mill about the dirt pathways and head toward the millstone that was grinding wheat, using a huge wheel that dipped in and out of the River Went. There were some children that looked at me curiously, but their mothers ducked the curious eyes away from me, scolding them in whispered tones.

I saw the same couple of women go past me a few times, and I wondered if they were trying to see if I was up to no good.

I didn't mind, really. It was kind of nice to be alone in my head for once, with only the horses for company. Horses were smart and loyal, but they knew when to leave you be – which was more than I could say for some people.

Enders had been gone for so long, I thought I should leave him and go back to Sherwood to send a search party. Turns out, I didn't have to.

He came sauntering over, a roll in one hand and his mouth chewing on a bite of it.

"Where the hell have you been?!" I exclaimed, hopping up from my seat and stomping closer to him.

He suppressed a grin when he took the reins of his horse and looked me over. "You look a little sunburned there, McBride."

"You've been gone all morning!" I said, placing one hand on my hip. "I could have gone with you!"

"Wrong. Phillip's widow is grieving. It would have been overwhelming for us both to go." Then, he shrugged. "And, I didn't want you around."

I gritted my teeth. "I thought we were getting along now."

"Amicable was the word you used."

I ground my teeth together. "Yes, and that means we should be getting along."

He shrugged, but I could see the grin there. "Call this collateral for trying to kill me on the fields."

"Trying to kill you?" I asked, totally confused. Then, I remembered trying to club him with the blunt end of my practice sword. "That was a misunderstanding."

"Right." He said, ripping another piece of the bread and popping it into his mouth. "Because trying to kill me is me misunderstanding things."

I was going to say something, but he was already moving toward the inn. He walked through the open door and I resolved to just plop down on the ground and wait again.

This time, he came back within only a few minutes.

"We'll head out now, and stop in the–" Enders' eyes went behind me, focusing on something else, as he trailed off.

I turned around, following his gaze.

Coming around the corner were three knights on horses, trotting down like they were on a leisurely patrol.

I saw it the second they noticed us.

The knights whipped at their horses to make them faster, galloping toward us with swords pulled out and at the ready.

My arms trembled as they raced closer and closer, their armor clanking as they drew in on us.

I hesitated when they reached us, but Enders did not.

He dove in front of me and threw his sword up, clashing it against the sword of the knight who would have cut me down if Enders hadn't reacted to it.

I ducked down, a yelp escaping me as I did. I remained close to the floor as the two other knights hopped off their horses and came toward me with malice in their eyes. Their dark gaze came over me, keeping me frozen in fear.

"Last words?" One of them asked, taking a step toward me.

Last words?

A pang shot through my veins.

Last Words?

These men truly meant to kill me. The fear didn't wear off, but it subsided enough for me to move. I bent and pulled a knife from my boot, my eyes widening at them.

"Not today."

My head snapped to the side, where Enders stood next to me.

His face, hands, and chest were covered in blood. His sword was held ready, in a palm that looked like it was drenched in sweat and blood. He raced forward, catching one of the knights off-guard and sliced his stomach with the blade of his sword.

The third knight came toward me, flinging his sword, but I managed to dodge the sharp blade. I threw my leg out, trying to defend myself and make the man back up.

My foot collided with his hand, making the knight drop his sword and scream out at the sharp edge sliced against his leg on the way down.

He grabbed me with his good hand and let his kneecap collide with my stomach.

I fell to the ground, clutching my middle section to ease the pain. Breathing felt like tie would kill me, but my body yearned for oxygen. I wanted to scream, but there was no air in my lungs to scream with.

Instead of trying to breathe, I focused on trying to cut. I gripped the dagger in my fist and lurched forward, digging the blade into the man's thigh.

The blood bubbled up from his skin and soaked my hands.

His scream was one of pure pain and rage.

I scrambled backward, still trying to heave in air, my stomach burning with pain and my fist sticky with blood.

It felt like it had taken hours for the man to stop writhing in pain, but I knew it was only a few minutes.

Turning my head, I saw Enders chasing after a man as the knight tried to scramble onto a horse. Enders grabbed the man's leg, but lost his grip, letting him slip away, but he didn't give up. Enders lunged forward, taking hold of the horse's reins and pulling him back.

It was almost scary when Enders cried out in an angry, pained scream, pulling his sword back and throwing it forward, into the horse's neck.

The slaughter was quick, and I hoped the horse wasn't in pain for long. It writhed once before it gave up its soul.

The man on the horse remained on the ground with it, his leg trapped under the beast's weight.

"No, no! Please!" The knight screamed, but Enders didn't seem to hear the pleas.

Enders lifted his sword high and let it crash down into the man's body.

I couldn't see the violence from the angle I sat at, but I heard the wet thud of impact and the squish of the blade being torn from the man's body. I heard the gurgling noises of a mouthful of blood.

Enders stared down at the body for a full minute before he sheathed his sword and came toward me. Wordlessly, he extended his hand to me.

I took it with trembling fingers, letting him bear my weight while I regained my footing.

He wrapped an arm around my middle and helped me get to my horse, boosting me up so I could sit.

Without another word, he mounted his mare and set it galloping down the pathway that led back to Sherwood.

*~*~*

We rode our horses like we were on fire and we'd never be able to extinguish the blaze if we didn't ride fast enough.

We finally dismounted our horses when we couldn't see the pathway anymore. The moon sat covered with clouds and the night was so dark I felt my horse wavering all over the path. The dust kicked up from Enders' horse wasn't even visible, and if it hadn't been for the sound of his horse's hooves in front of mine and the squeaking wheels from the wagon he had with the supplies, I would have thought I'd lost him.

"Count to twenty and stop!" He shouted at me.

I did as he said, counting in my head, trying to make sure I didn't go too quickly. I brought my mare to a slow stop next to him twenty-five seconds later. "Why are we stopping?"

"We've been riding for too long. We're exhausted and I know the horses can't take much more." Enders dismounted and took the reins of his horse in his hand. "We'll have to camp out here for the night and get back to Sherwood in the morning."

I nodded, half relieved and struck with fear. "What if they find us?"

"Reinforcements are probably looking for us, but we can't go anymore. The horses need rest – as do we." He turned his head to look around him. Nodding to his right, he started walking. "There's a clearing this way. It's out of the way. No one would go there if they could avoid it."

"You know where we are?" I asked, jumping off my horse and following him with the mare in tow.

He led me off the dirt path and into the forest, where we stumbled along foliage on the floor. "I've done supply runs to Fenwick before. This is where I usually camp. I'd know how to find it with my eyes closed."

I nodded, but said nothing, kind of impressed that Enders would be able to navigate in the complete darkness. "How do you know how to do all this stuff?"

Enders chanced a glance back at me, but remained stone-faced, probably too exhausted to entertain me. "What stuff?"

"Hunt, successfully wander through the woods in the pitch dark, archery. You been in Sherwood for a year, but that's not long enough to know the things you know." I stumbled over a log, but caught myself on a tree trunk.

"I've known how to do those things since I was a boy." He said, sighing.

"Your father taught you?" I asked, eyes staring down at the ground, trying to see the forest floor so I didn't trip again.

Enders snorted. "No."

I cocked my head to the side at that, but my eyes remained planted on the ground. "Who taught you?"

"My mother."

I tore my eyes from the ground and snapped my gaze to him. "Your mother?"

Enders said nothing, but I heard him let out an irritated sigh.

"How did she know how to do these things?"

"How does anyone know, Henry?!" He shouted at me, his arm raising in the air in a show of annoyance. "Her father taught her, and she taught me. You ask too many questions, Henry."

"I'm only curious. You know more than I know and I had an outlaw father." I said.

"I'm very aware who your father is."

I paused at that and then nodded. "That's right, you reported to him. How did that happen?"

Enders dragged in a deep breath. "Are you ever going to stop with the questions?"

I shrugged, tilting my head, but shook it after a moment, still walking. "No."

"I was sent to report changes in Sherwood to your father every second Tuesday of the month until last month." Enders said.

"Why did you stop reporting?"

Enders shrugged. "Robin told me that he wanted your father to rest without worrying about Sherwood. He'll send me out in a few months, I'm sure."

I nodded. Alright, so I had a few months to figure things out, at least. "And, your mother?"

"My mother was from a noble house, but her father thought hunting was important. When wealth runs out, how do you eat, if you can't hunt? She spent my childhood teaching me everything she knew."

"Sounds like a good woman." I complimented.

"The best." He said, pushing aside a tree branch and stepping into a clear circle.

There were no trees in the circle. It was just a patch of grass surrounded by a thick perimeter of trees and shrubs, purple flowers growing on the right side, creating a ring of violet shades of color accenting the greenery.

I marveled at how cleanly it looked. "Does someone maintain this?"

Enders shrugged. "It stays clear most of the time, but we send supply trips to Fenwick often, so I'll come and clear it up if I have time. If I don't, it will get unruly."

"That's kind of you." I said, mildly impressed.

"Selfish." He corrected without missing a beat. "I don't like sleeping in dirt."

I shrugged. "Still."

Enders quickly dismissed himself to get some firewood, handing me the reins of his horse as he stalked off into the forest. He didn't go far, since I was painfully aware that I could hear him picking through the foliage on the ground until he found decent sizes of wood and collected them.

He came back just as I'd finished taking care of the horses, and immediately went to work on starting the fire.

I'd finished tying the horse reins to two trees, brushed and fed them, and went as far as to try and water them with the small wineskin of water I'd brought with me.

Maybe if the River Went bent down this far, we can stop in the morning for water.

I heard the crackling fire before I realized he'd been able to start one.

"You should get some sleep." He said, walking toward the horses and stopping beside his saddle bag. Taking hold of the hem of his shirt, which hung at his waist, he pulled the fabric up and over his head.

I froze, my eyes stuck on him, and a heavy thump in my chest getting so loud I could hear it in my own ears.

It wasn't that I'd never seen shirtless men. The men in my village often worked in the sun and would remove their shirts to cool off in the relentless heat. This was different. I was the only other person here, and he wasn't working. He was about to sleep, I realized.

This felt a little more personal than a man working in the fields.

Then, there was the fact that he was ridiculously attractive – or at least I apparently thought so. I took a few more seconds to quietly admire the build of his upper body.

"Did you hear me?" He asked, annoyed, shifting through his bag with one hand and running the other through his hair. "Or have you suddenly become dense?"

I shook out of the daze I was in and snapped my eyes away from him. "What?"

He tilted his eyes to look at me, and I thanked God that I'd had the sense to look away from him when I did. "You should sleep. You've never been in a fight before and you'll be in pain in the morrow."

I recoiled a bit at that, turning my eyes back up to him. "How did you know I'd never fought?"

His lips twitched at that. "You were so lost in that fight, I wasn't sure you'd be able to find your own hand."

I shrugged, knowing it was true. A defeated look came over my face.

He took one glance at me and then shrugged. "It happens to everybody. That's how I know you'll be in pain. Sleep helps."

I nodded. I don't think I'd ever moved like that before, and I knew there would be tenderness in my arms in the morning. "Yeah, I'll go lay by the fire."

I collapsed in the grass, the blades of green welcoming my body as if it were the cot back in Sherwood. I didn't even care that it was uncomfortable. All I cared about was that I could rest all my aching limbs without fear of being killed for the moment – unless Enders had a change of heart.

I fought the urge to open my eyes, but failed miserably. I cracked them open and spotted Enders lounging on the saddle bag he'd dragged from his horse and laid in the grass, near the fire. He had two strings in his hand, one was blue and white while the other was green and white. The strings were made of other strings that had been knotted together all the way down.

I watched in a curious silence while Enders made two knots on the blue and white string before placing it on his chest and making one knot in the other string.

"What's that?" I asked, watching his fingers working deftly at the string.

I tried to count the knots on the green string but there were too many, and it flopped away from me, over his hand and out of my sight. There had to have been twenty knots, at least.

He paused for a moment, staring down at the string, his fingers still in the middle of making the knot. Then, he resumed and picked the blue set off his chest so that both were in his hands. "Each knot represents a death."

I gave him an attentive look and sat up, but I said nothing.

"The knots on the blue line are human lives I've taken, and the green are animal lives."

I stared at him, my eyes scanning the lines that he held.

His eyes were staring into them, but not seeing them, as if he was instead seeing the faces of the peoples he'd taken.

"How many?" I croaked out, a doleful expression descending upon my face.

Enders sighed sullenly, rubbing his thumb and index finger over the two knots he'd made only minutes ago. "Seventeen men, thirty-two deer, and two horses."

I wanted to ask him more questions but he seemed lost. I looked down at the dancing flames.

"What?" His voice jerked me from the debate I was having in my head. It wasn't annoyed like it should have been. Instead, it was soft, still lost.

I eyed him for a moment. "How can you live like this? How can you be okay with all this death?"

He shook his head, too tired to fight. He closed his eyes, resting his hand on his chest, the strings in his fist. "I'm not okay with death, but this is the world we live in."

My eyes felt like they withered as I watched his shut and his breathing slow to a steady rhythm. Looking at him felt wrong somehow, like I was invading his privacy. So, I rolled away from him, turning to face the darkened forest.

I stared up at the night sky for a long time that night. Sleep wouldn't come over me, and when I did manage to doze off, only bad dreams and nightmares hit me. Images of the blood leaking from the knight's body, of Enders standing in the field with blood all over his face and hands, were suffocating me.

I'd been to the shore once, where the waves met the sand, and that was what the dreams reminded me of. A wave crashing over me, leaving me sputtering and gasping for breath.

When the sun finally came up, I was exhausted, sore everywhere, and relieved.

Enders got up without a word and stomped out the fire.

I followed him without a word, too exhausted to speak. He led me down to the River Went – just as I had hoped we would. I took the reins of my horse, and his when he handed them to me, leading them to the river's edge and letting them drink their fill. I leaned down and took a moment to wash my face.

Enders took barely a moment before he jumped into the river and sank under its depths, letting the water wash over him.

I tried to ignore him as he took time to sink into the cold deep. Instead, I sank down to the river's edge and sat on the sand for a long while, patting one of the horses on the leg.

Enders stood from the water, looking through the saddle bag he had and pulled out the shirt he'd tossed off the night before. "I'm almost done."

"Take your time," I reassured him, as he bent next to me and started soaking the blood-stained shirt in the chilled water. "Won't you be cold now?"

"I'd prefer the cold over the blood." He said. "Contrary to what you believe, I'm not bloodthirsty."

"I didn't think you were." I said, propping my arms up on my knees.

He wrung out his shirt and draped it over a strap on the horse's saddle. "Let's get back to Sherwood."

The ride was long and arduous, taking all the morning hours. After only a few hours, I'd become dizzy. Another hour passed, and I took a moment while we were going slow to take a rope and tie my waist to the saddle in case I fell off the horse.

The heat was starting to drag me under consciousness when we finally rode into the camp, Little John flanking our right and Will Scarlett flanking our left.

"Henry! Enders!" Will ran forward, taking hold on my upper leg.

I almost kicked him in self-defense, but I realized that he was just trying to stabilize me. I hadn't noticed how weak and lopsided I'd become during the journey.

"Take McBride," Enders groaned from the horse next to me. "He's about to go under."

I didn't even care enough to argue when Will Scarlett took the knife from my boot – where he'd trained me to keep it hidden – and slashed the rope off my waist.

"Come on, McBride." Pulling me off the horse, Will caught me on my way down. Little John helped by grabbing my feet and luring me to the ground.

"We need to get him to Evie." Will said, crouching beside my head and examining the skin of my face.

"Not yet," John murmured, turning to yell for someone to drag Evie out to me. "If we move him and he has an injury inside, he could die."

I felt my head lolling to the side, a strike of panic crawling up my spine at the thought of being discovered like this. If Evie tried to examine me out in the open, she'd know that I was a woman, and so would anyone else with eyes.

I leaned up to say I was fine, but instead a pain washed over me and I fell back.

"He's not hurt like that." Enders said.

I managed to open my eyes long enough to see him limping over to where I lay.

He had one hand cradling his side.

"We ran into some knights. He's never been in a fight before. Give him water and some food and he'll be fine." Enders said, nonchalantly.

I mentally thanked Enders for making light of the situation, trying to hold on to consciousness.

Will and John looked at each other for a moment, and then John nodded. "Let's get him to the infirmary."

That's when I lost it and everything went black.

### Chapter Ten

I woke up in the infirmary cabin when the sun was coming down over the horizon that same day.

My eyes fluttered open in a haze of exhaustion. I groaned as I leaned up to pull myself into a sitting position.

"Don't strain yourself. It makes the pain worse."

I whipped my head to the side, seeing Enders lounging in a chair, a book in his hands, his eyes still scanning the words on the page. He lifted his eyes up and made contact with my mine.

"What happened?" I asked.

Snapping the book shut, Enders drew in a breath. "You took some hard blows."

I groaned. "I remember that. Are you here to berate me?"

"Berate you?" He asked, leaning forward in his chair. "No. I'm here to make sure you don't die in your sleep."

I shook my head and rolled my eyes, not wanting to engage with him. "I'm not going to die."

"Yeah, you're welcome for that."

I sighed. Why was his voice so loud? "Thanks."

"Look, I didn't wait around here to argue." He stood from his chair and walked toward the door. "I'm glad you're not dead, and I think you should know that you did good work out there. Even if you got your arse handed to you." He opened the door, looking back at me and nodding toward the door. "Come to the fires and eat with us. Everyone wants to know how you're doing."

"Everyone?" I asked, my eyebrow coming up in skepticism.

Enders shrugged. "Reggie, Aldridge, Alton. There were dozens of people who watched you pass out, though. I think everyone is curious how Harrison McBride's son is going to bounce back after his first fight."

I rolled my eyes, but I threw the blanket off my waist. "Alright," I groaned. "I could go for some stew."

"I'm sure you could. Come one." Enders said, hopping down the steps to the cabin.

"Where's Evie?" I asked, looking around as I stepped down the stairs, suppressing cringes with each step I took.

"I told her I'd stick around and make sure you were okay, so she went to go for a walk around camp. She does that. I think she likes the quiet time." Enders said, walking slowly beside me.

I was silently appreciative that he didn't pressure me to walk faster. "That sounds peaceful."

"Aye." Enders said, letting the conversation die there.

If I'd discovered anything about Enders, it was that he was not one for many words - at least not with me.

We walked beside each other, at my pace - which wasn't too slow, but it wasn't too fast either. The silence wasn't suffocating, but it wasn't exactly comfortable either, which I thought was a good middle ground with us. It was better than it was before. It felt like, maybe, Enders respected me more for not being half-bad in a fight. At least, I hoped he did. I could live without his respect and acknowledgement, but I found that I wanted it. He was a good mentor. He was a decent person. Getting along with him felt almost like I was finding a place for myself.

We had been walking for ten minutes and not once had we insulted each other, and that was something to be proud of.

We stepped into the spot where the men spent their evenings. There were about three fires that were burning only as embers, several groups of men gathered around them as they dug into their bowls of stew. Other groups of men sat or stood together in random spots, just talking and laughing with each other. It was the most massive gathering of men I'd ever seen, people strewn everywhere. The grass had been trampled down to dirt in this part of the camp, overhanging canopies littering the field, in case of rain, I supposed.

I'd been here in the evening a few times, but I never stayed long. I usually grabbed some stew and took it back to the cabin. But, I admitted this looked a little more fun.

"There he is!" Reggie's booming voice echoed around the logs that sat strewn around fire to my right.

My eyes snapped to him as he stood and came closer to me, clapping me hard on the back. "Evening, Reggie." I muttered, trying to breathe after his heavy hand knocked the wind from my lungs.

"How ya' doin', Enders?" He said, giving Enders a friendly clap on his arm, then turned to me. "We heard you'd gotten into a fight, Henry! Get some food and come sit with us! Tell us about it!" He grinned, putting his hand on my shoulder.

I smiled at him and then nodded toward the women sitting at the end of the field with large pots hanging over a set of seven fires. "Sure. I'll be right back."

Enders nodded at Reggie as he bounded back to where Elwin and Alton sat with three other outlaws I'd recognized but didn't know their names.

"He's in good spirits." I mused, walking toward the women at the end of the field.

"Aye. He usually is. Especially after a pint of ale."

"He's had ale?" I asked, looking back at Reggie.

He was laughing with Alton, both bent over as they sat, unable to breath. Each of them holding a large cup in one hand, the liquid sloshing over the edge and spilling as they belted out hearty laughs.

"Aye." Enders said. "They usually drink it every night."

"Does everyone drink?" I asked, looking around the field.

"No. A few of us abstain."

"Do you drink it?" I asked, letting my eyes stop it's search around the field and land on him.

"No."

"Why not?" I asked, absently rubbing my hip as a pain shot through it. I gritted my teeth at the pain.

"I'm not interested in losing command of my body and mind." He said, as we walked up to the women at one pot hanging over the fire.

The woman said nothing, only smiling as she handed a bowl full of stew to Enders.

"Thank you, Missy." Enders said, receiving only a nod in response.

Missy turned and smiled at me, but remained silent. She took the ladle in her hand and dove it into the stew.

I watched the stew, my stomach growling with desire.

"Do you have a problem, Rawley?!"

"You're goddamn right I do!"

I whipped my head to the side, watching as two young men stood toe-to-toe with each other. I'd seen them before, sparred with shorter one once, but they'd never struck me as the type to start a fight. The short one was named Andrew, who was hard to forget with his bronze hair and deep brown eyes. He was usually so up-beat and happy, and this behavior wasn't something he had ever exhibited since I'd been in camp.

The other man was a man named Rawley, who appeared to be the troublemaker, was pushing Andrew backward with every sentence he screamed.

Then, the woman was yelling at him to stop pushing Andrew.

That's strange...

I immediately turned my eyes to Enders, his eyes coming to land on mine before we both started walking toward the two men.

They continued screaming, something about the woman they kept gesturing to, who stood under a canopy just a few feet away from them.

"Go separate them. I'm going to talk to the woman they're fighting about." I said, jogging around the growing circle of watchers surrounding Rawley and Andrew. She was shaken, trying to calm her nerves by wringing her hands as her eyes remained glued to the men.

"What the hell are ya' men doin'?" Enders voice echoed as he pushed his way through the circle of men.

I took a moment to glance over and see that he now stood between them, his hands raised in both directions, ready to incapacitate them if needed.

Turning back to the woman, I stepped closer. "Excuse me, miss!" I called out over the crowd as I took the final few steps.

Her eyes snapped to me, a panic stretching over her face. She said nothing, but her face told me everything I needed to know.

She was scared, terrified. Her eyes as wide as a frightened deer.

My eyes darted over her, a concerned flush now coming across my cheeks. "Are you alright, miss?"

She shook her head, her hands coming to rest protectively on her stomach.

Every fiber in my body stopped, and my eyes immediately searched her ring finger, finding it empty.

She's pregnant.

My eyebrows lifted, and I took a step closer to her, my hand landing on her shoulder and leading her to a chair. "Come sit down. You should be resting right now."

When she was sitting, I looked back to the two men in the circle. Rawley was desperately fighting against Reggie and another man as they held his arms back, while Andrew was standing there, chest puffed out, eyes narrowed down on Rawley. But, Andrew wasn't trying to get at Rawley. Instead, Enders was speaking quietly to Andrew and Andrew was only responding in barely noticeable nods and glances.

I thought I understood what was going on, but I didn't want to speculate. So, I turned my eyes back to the woman sitting before. "What's your name, Miss?"

"Kilie." She said, swallowing thickly, her eyes darting behind me to watch the drama.

Crouching, I captured her attention. "Andrew will be fine, Kilie. Rawley won't hurt him. No one will let that happen. You understand?"

Kilie nodded, her eyes snapping to me and staying on me.

"Can you tell me why they're fighting so I can help talk to them?" I asked, my voice as soft and sweet as I dared to go before blowing my cover.

Kilie's chin quivered, her blonde hair bouncing atop her head as she looked down at her hands, which cradled the small lump of her belly. It hadn't been so obvious before, but now that she was sitting, it was apparent. "I'm with child."

"Aye? That's wonderful, Kilie. Congratulations." I said, a smile on my lips as I remained crouched in front of her.

She snorted with a roll of her eyes. "Rawley doesn't think so."

"Why not and why does he matter?"

Kilie wiped a tear that ran down her cheek. "Rawley is my brother, but he doesn't like Andrew. He never did, but at least he would tolerate him before this."

I nodded, looking back at the screaming Rawley, who was still being restrained. Andrew, however, stood there, staring at Rawley with hardened eyes. Enders stood before him, I'm assuming still trying to talk him into going back to his cabin - which I knew wasn't going to happen now.

"Kilie," I said, turning my eyes back on her. "Do you love Andrew? Do you want to spend your life with him?"

"Of course!" She exclaimed, not even missing a beat. "We were going to marry two months ago, but there weren't any cabins available here, and he doesn't want to leave Sherwood. I don't either. We both want to stay here."

"Well, alright then." I said, standing up. "You stay here and try to relax. We are going to take care of all this, okay?"

Kilie nodded, an unconvinced smile on her lips.

Walking out of the canopy and into the small circle of men that had gathered, I stalked toward Enders and Andrew first.

Enders immediately looked at me. "Is she alright?"

I shook my head. "She's really shaken up. It's not good for the babe."

"Babe?" Enders asked, his head recoiling a bit in shock.

I looked from Enders to Andrew, whose eyes had snapped to me in horror.

Whoops.

"Congratulations, Andrew." I said, a grin breaking onto my lips. Oh, well. If I've let the cat out of the bag, might as well run with it, right?

Andrew said nothing, but drew in a deep breath.

"Rawley is her brother. So, he's angry. Naturally. I would be, too." Darting my eyes to Andrew, I shrugged apologetically. "No offense."

Andrew only rolled his eyes, clearly not in the mood to speak.

"Anyway, we need to wrap this up before her health declines from the excitement." I said. My eyes fell on Andrew's pale face and scared expression. "Andrew, do you want to spend your life with Kilie?"

Andrew nodded. "Aye. For as long as I can remember."

"Good." I nodded, turning to Enders. "Is Little John an ordained priest?"

"He is." Enders said, an eyebrow arching as he stared at me with skeptical eyes.

I nodded. "Alright. I'll be right back." I said, turning away from them and heading toward the other end of the circle of men who eagerly awaited the fight that felt inevitable. I spotted Alton just on the outskirts of the circle and stalked toward him. "Alton, will you bring Little John for us, please?"

"Sure." He said, not even bothering ask why. He turned immediately and jogged off toward the other end of camp.

Then, my eyes narrowed on Rawley, who stood there, struggling against Reggie's hold on his right arm. When I got close enough to him, I started speaking, "if you calm down, they'll let go of you."

Rawley relaxed a bit. "You don't understand, McBride!"

"I may understand your position, but I understand Kilie's. She's in love with Andrew. She wants to marry him. Won't you support that?"

"He's not good for her!" Rawley roared, loud enough for Andrew to hear. "He's ruined her!"

Stepping closer, I whispered. "How much family do you have, Rawley?"

He stopped struggling against Reggie and the other man, and stared at me. "Kilie is it." He seethed.

I tilted my head and offered a small smile. "Your family has grown this day. Why are you not happy about that?"

"He took advantage of my sister!" He yelled, a little quieter this time.

I stared at him, then nodded at Reggie for him to let go of Rawley's arm.

Rawley shook the men off him and stared at me, with a fury in his eyes.

"In only a few months' time, she will have her babe. You can choose to be there for your sister and become an uncle. Or, you can choose to condemn her marriage to the man she loves and be an outsider in her life." I tilted my head, looking at him. "Which life is the one you want?"

Rawley looked at me for a moment longer before darting his eyes to his sister, who sat under the canopy, her chin quivering and her eyes shining with tears she'd been wiping from her eyes.

"This worry isn't good for the babe, you know?" I warned him.

Rawley nodded, putting his hand son his hips, and his eyes staring down at the ground. He seemed to have calmed down enough.

Until he lifted his eyes to Andrew again.

It happened so quickly, I almost missed the flip in his mood. One moment he was calming down, the next he was bolting for Andrew with a growl escaping his lips. His elbow came up, striking my cheek, sending a piercing pain rolling down my jaw and neck.

I raced after him and managed to get ahold on a handful of his hair, pulling him backward, hard. Then again, he also pulled me two paces forward as well. I stumbled, but regained my footing quickly. With a frustrated groan and a shooting pain lancing up my side and spine, I threw my foot at the back of his knee as hard as I could, my hand still in his hair. Pulling a knife from my hip, I held the blade's sharp edge on his throat.

I felt the trickle of blood falling down over my upper lip and streaking down my face.

Silence fell around the circle, everyone staring at me and Rawley on his knees, at the mercy of my blade.

"Is this who we are?!" I screamed out, tugging Rawley's hair back a bit. "Is this what we do?! We are here to protect those who come to us! We are here to help the people who are being attacked by their own king! And, we're wasting time fighting with ourselves?!" I asked, my eyes scanning around the crowd. Little John and Will Scarlett had pushed their way through the crowd and stood there, watching the scene I was making with jaws dropped. I took a moment to spit out blood that had leaked into my mouth. "We are not Wesley!"

Removing my knife from Rawley's throat, I shoved the blade back in the holster at my hip and walked to Rawley's front and offered him my hand.

He, surprisingly, grasped my forearm and pulled himself up.

"That's why tonight, we celebrate a wedding!" I announced.

A series of cheers and claps rang out across the crowd.

Turning to Rawley, I spoke: "it's your choice whether you want to be there. I know I would if it was my sister."

Rawley only stared at me with a neutral expression.

I couldn't read him, but I knew this had probably killed our chances at friendship. Then again, I didn't really care. This was about Kilie and Andrew and their growing family.

Then, I turned and walked away to talk to Little John and Will Scarlett.

*~*~*

The ceremony was held late that night in the field where the evening fires were usually set.

Kilie was taken to get dressed in a white gown that one of the older women had worn at her wedding ceremony. Her hair had been braided down her back, and in her hands was a bouquet of flowers that had been picked only twenty minutes before she walked to her groom.

Andrew looked handsome as well. None of the men had anything formal for him to wear, so he had changed his clothing into a clean set and slicked his hair back with some water.

No words had come to me when I saw the way he grinned as Kilie walked toward him, flanked by three older women in the camp. They held up the train of her dress and took her flowers from her. What surprised me the most was Rawley, holding onto Kilie's arm as he walked beside her toward Andrew.

When they reached the front, where Andrew and Little John stood, Rawley bent and kissed Kilie's cheek, whispering something to her and smiling at her.

I didn't know if Rawley was happy, but I was. Because, he'd chosen the right path: to be there for his sister and support her. I was certain that he'd come to appreciate the decision he made. Someday, I hoped.

They both looked so insanely happy that it was almost overwhelming.

I hadn't been in Sherwood that long, so I had chosen to stand at the back of the crowd, leaning against the frame of the canopy, my arms crossed over my chest and my legs crossed at the ankles.

"You took a gamble today."

I turned my head to my right, spotting Enders standing next to me, his arms folded across his chest as well.

I shrugged. "What? Getting involved in this?"

"The whole thing. Mostly pulling a knife on Rawley." He snorted. "I'm surprised he didn't kill you for that."

"Me too, to be honest." I said, candidly.

"It was good, though." Enders said.

"Thank you."

"Don't ever do that again." Enders said. "No one will put up with your interference next time. The only reason that worked is because no one expected it."

"That's fine," I said, shrugging. "I did it for her and Andrew. They deserve happiness, right?"

Enders nodded. "That they do."

"Are you close with him?" I asked, nodding toward Andrew and turning my eyes on Enders.

Enders shrugged. "I'd call us friends."

"Is he a good man?" I asked.

Enders remained silent for a long moment. "Yes. He'll treat her with respect, and he'll be a great father."

I didn't say anything else, largely because I thought I might cry if I did. It wasn't every day that you witnessed the happiness of two people like this.

Maybe, someday I'll have something like this, too.

### Chapter Eleven

Days and weeks passed in a blur of activity.

Two weeks after Andrew and Kilie's wedding, Rawley had approached me and thanked me for intervening, and I apologized for pulling a knife on him. He, strangely enough, laughed about it and mentioned that I had been right. He said he would have regretted hurting the father of his niece or nephew - or causing his sister pain like that. Apparently, she was doing well and the babe was moving around quite well.

Other than that, things were relaxed and involved training and hunting deer - which was much more fun than I thought it would be. Sometimes I'd go with Alton, sometimes with Enders, sometimes with Reggie. It was always up to Robin who went hunting, but it was a huge amount of fun to race through the trees in pursuit of our next meal.

The only downside: my heart thumped harder every time Enders was around, and I fought to control it. Of course, I couldn't, so my emotional battles were in vain. Every day was a new struggle to contain a racing heart and avert my wandering eyes. It got worse the longer I let it go. I felt my nerves spike every time we sparred because I was terrified to not only have someone else's hands on me, but also that he might somehow deduce that I was only pretending to be a man.

After the second month, I was shocked that no one had discovered me yet. Then the third month came and nothing happened. It had been four months, two weeks, and three days since I'd started living among thieves. I missed home, but living in Sherwood wasn't as bad I'd imagined.

I practiced swordplay more frequently than archery, but Robin noticed this pattern and started to send everybody to the archery range instead.

For a month, we had intense archery training.

For another month after, all they did was throw knives and daggers.

Three people were hit by renegade knives that month. Luckily, though, they hadn't lost their lives; nasty scars sat on the cheeks or arms as a reminder that they could never be too careful, even amongst themselves.

I hadn't really wanted the change, but when I bathed, I noticed that my stomach muscles had profited. I thought it looked a little too masculine, but there was nothing I could do to go back to the way I was before. I came to build myself a better life, and I trained so I could survive among them.

I wasn't well-versed in archery. I found that I lacked the aptitude for it. I considered it one of my weaknesses, although I could keep myself alive in a forest for a few hours, if the need arose.

I hadn't ever really thought about it too much, but I was better at hand-to-hand combat than I was with a bow, which was weird because I despised being touched. That was probably why I was so good at it.

More so than hand-to-hand combat, I'd come to prefer the company of a long dagger than a quiver of arrows strung to my back. Will Scarlett had taught us how to throw knives, which I'd excelled at and enjoyed every time. Not to mention, he was hilariously over-dramatic. I couldn't help but wonder if that was a play on Robin Hood.

I never knew I'd find throwing knives so entertaining. A mental image came to my mind of me at home, taking kitchen knives and flinging them at trees in my backyard. My father would have been furious if I'd attempted that.

Every now and then, I couldn't help but wonder what other hidden talents and capabilities I had hidden deep within my soul.

Often, I would wonder how long this would last. How long would this stalemate of a war go on? How long would it be before my father rode in on a horse, demanding his daughter be returned? How long would it be before my hat came flying off, letting loose the intense curls of hair that sat on my head? How could I cover that up? These men didn't have long hair and if my hat somehow came off my head, I would be sent back home before I'd even be able to pick it up off the ground.

*~*~*

Robin stood, hands planted on his hips in the most masculine undertone possible; his eyes surveyed groggy men. The sun hadn't even shown its face yet. Small torches were alight.

I cocked a tired eyebrow at them. They'd been taught never to light a fire in Sherwood. I reasoned that it had to be only an hour or so before sunrise.

I, eyebrow still uncomfortably arched, followed Robin's line of sight as he paced back and forth. I knew he'd never done this before, training a group of men to be heroes of England. He knew all too well how to steal and pillage, but not how to save an entire country of people from a king hell-bent on destroying all hope in humanity.

Maybe that last part was a little dramatic, but I didn't care. It was too early to make sense.

I let out a silent chuckle. Robin Hood wasn't training them to be thieves. No, he was training them to protect the fugitives from the law of the king, which really wasn't that bad a thing in my opinion; although, I couldn't help but wonder what turned a hardened thief into a revolutionary.

Then, I remembered. It was like a punch to the stomach. Those five children who had been slaughtered. That was what changed him.

"Alright, men," Robin started, looking around the group.

I spotted Aldridge at the edge of the group, holding a torch as he rubbed his tired eyes.

I wasn't as tired as everyone else; I'd slept early and hadn't trained as hard the previous day. Still, I wiped my eyes of sleep as I stood amongst the men.

Robin turned to the dark forest beyond. "We're going to have a bit of an assessment this morning." He said, motioning to the darkness behind him. "I suppose you could think of it as a game. The first team to capture all the opposing groups' flags wins. If you get shot with an arrow, you're out of the game."

Everyone looked around at each other.

"What is the point of this game?" One frustrated, and sleep-deprived man, called out from the depths of the group.

Robin raised an eyebrow. "Do I need a reason to wake up my men and give them instructions?" He asked, booming the words as a warning. Sighing, he looked over their faces, knowing their irritation. "But, if you must know, it's a strategy exercise, to make sure you know what you're doing while in danger."

"Isn't it a little dangerous to use arrows like this? We could kill each other this way." A man name Raelyn spoke up first.

Robin rolled his eyes, nonchalantly. "We're not using real arrows. We'll be giving you these." He held up an arrow with a rounded top instead of a point. "We call them blunt arrows. If you get hit by a blunt arrow, you are eliminated from this exercise and are to sit in the training fields until a winner is named."

I nodded loosely, looking around the group as I thought about how the blunt arrows were just round stoppers on sticks.

My eyes landed on Enders as I lost myself in my thoughts.

He was tired, I could tell. I'd spent most of the day practicing with him before I left him to Reggie, who wouldn't relent on practice until he won at least once. That could have taken hours. I noticed, in the dark lighting, a small bruise on his cheek, no doubt from yesterday's training.

I tried to remember him without blemish or mark on his face. I couldn't think of a single time.

Ever since they'd started training, he'd always taken a hit somewhere, leaving a mark to remember it by.

That wasn't the only thing that I noticed about him. I could tell he was stronger. He'd gained muscle and lost some weight. He was fit, but I found myself worried that he'd become malnourished.

I tried to fight my drumming heartbeat as I stared at him, willing myself to suppress the growing nerves in my stomach. It was hard to ignore him, and I found myself trying to forget the way he had to frequently be in my personal space to mentor me.

I only fell back to reality when Robin rattled off the names of teammates.

"...Henry, Enders, Candor, Elwin, and Rawley," I raised an eyebrow, taking my eyes off Enders and directing them to Robin, who smiled at his men. He held a parchment in his hands, crumpled and worn: a list of their names.

"I want to see some intense battles out there, men!" Robin yelled as the men started to gather into their teams. He drew his eyes on me as he walked past the group. "McBride! I want to see you utilize the other strategies your father taught you!"

I nodded, wanting to roll my eyes in annoyance. Yes, I was tired, and that was probably why I was so annoyed, but everything seemed to revolve around my father: what he would think, what he would do, where he would send me. If he had known where I was, I was certain he'd send me away immediately, wanting me anywhere but here mingling with these men. It was a strange change of heart. One minute, my ego is getting boosted by my father's name, and the next all I wanted was for everyone to shut up.

"Go!" Robin shouted to the men.

I sighed, walking toward Enders, who'd already started in the opposite direction. I jogged a bit to catch up with him.

"Enders," I greeted him when I matched his pace.

"McBride. You ready to capture some flags?" Enders asked, an eyebrow arched as he stalked toward the tree line.

It was actual work to smother a groan of irritation. "Aye."

Our group of five had come together quickly and set off before some of the others. We walked in silence for close to ten minutes, our feet dragging through the forest floor.

Candor yawned and sighed loudly, looking around the dark forest. "Why would Robin wake us so early for this?" He looked to Elwin, who kept a slow, almost uneven pace. "It's still dark out."

I tilted my head to the side to address him. "That's exactly why he woke us this early. He wants us to be able to hide ourselves in the forest when it's dark." I sighed, stepping over an old, rotting log on the ground. "It's a strategic exercise."

Elwin and Rawley nodded slightly, keeping quiet as they walked on. Candor didn't care for the conversation, trying to keep himself awake as he trudged on.

I took the opportunity to look over to Enders, who carried the flag sluggishly as he dragged himself through the forest.

I noted that he didn't look bothered. In fact, he looked motivated, although clearly exhausted. His eyes seemed to look completely different than what his body was showing.

My eyes scanned his body, catching the small limp that he walked with. I'd bet anything that he'd sprained his ankle in training yesterday.

Snap.

The breaking of a twig rang out and echoed through the woods.

I slowed my step before coming to a complete stop, as did the other men of my group. I perked my ears up, trying to listen for any other movement or sound of life.

Just as I was about to start walking again, the sound of harsh whispers sounded from a far-off tree to my left.

I turned my attention to the whispers, my feet itching to move and my eyes scanning the tree tops and the forest floor for clues.

"We should run." Elwin suggested from behind me.

"No." I snapped quickly, shaking my head, and holding up a hand to still him.

He was like a spooked horse with his eyes darting this way and that, searching for signs of human activity.

I kept my eyes scanning the forest as I continued. "If we start running, they'll know we're onto them. They could have men up ahead, and by the sound of it, it looks like they're not quite in formation yet. If we start panicking, we'd be setting ourselves up for an ambush."

I turned around, looking at Enders and then behind him to the trees beyond. "Enders, how many people are in the trees behind me?"

Enders took his eyes off mine and glared into the treetops as inconspicuously as possible. "As far as I can tell, there's only one person." He whispered, looking around to his left and his right. "Looks like Harlan to me."

I nodded. "Looks like there's another one ahead of me."

Candor sighed, looking ahead and staring through the treetops. "What are we doing then? Standing here and doing nothing is setting ourselves up for ambush!" He whispered harshly.

I turned to him, giving him a slight and quiet glare. "Calm yourself, Candor."

"If you had any suggestions, then maybe I would be calm!" He whispered harshly again, his eyebrows scrunching together.

Snap! Another twig echoed from close by.

Candor let out a loud, angry huff.

I spun around to survey the woodland, as all the others were doing as well.

Enders slowly moved the flag behind his back and took precautionary steps backward. With every step, he moved closer and closer to the tree behind him: a massive oak, almost double my size. I watched him take quiet, careful steps, his boots moving to an unheard rhythm.

I raised my eyes to the tops of the trees, searching for movement. I was about to look behind me, when I saw the smallest shifting of branches on the treetop of the large oak canopying over Enders and the flag.

I opened my mouth slightly. If the man jumped down now, he'd trap Enders, steal the flag and make off with it. I had to hand it to the opposing team, they were clever.

I saw the man getting ready to drop down from the tree. Before he could carry out his ambush, I raced forward, putting my hand on Enders' chest and forcing him back, shoving all my weight into him and pressing myself against him.

It felt like the moment lasted forever.

I saw every detail of Enders' face, the small freckles he had scattered on his cheeks and two above his right eye. I saw the expression of dismay, and felt the strong grip he had on the flag behind his back. The moment was fleeting, only lasting about a millisecond, but it had happened. I hadn't been this close to any one person since I was a little girl, crawling in to sleep with my dad after a particularly horrifying nightmare.

I was thrown back to reality, spinning around and watching the man as he came down.

He was a few seconds too late to drop to the ground, his back facing me.

Before I could even think about what I was doing, I picked up an old, sturdy log, lunging it forward into the man's back. He stumbled forward a step or two. I followed and before I could think twice, I whipped the stick forward, letting it fly at an angle and collide right with his side.

"Oof!" The man, a newcomer named Andrew, doubled over, cradling his side in pain.

Before Andrew could react, I walked around him and pulled the log back, swinging it against his cheek. It sent splinters and small pieces of old oak flying around us and I hoped that I hadn't swung too hard. I'd meant to hold back a bit, and that blow looked more painful than I'd intended.

Andrew fell to the ground, safe and unharmed, but groaning in pain.

I raised my eyes to Candor, Elwin, and Rawley. "Run!" I exclaimed as I grabbed Enders' arm and pulled him for a few seconds, deeper into the forest.

The further we got from that place, the more time seemed to slow down.

I scanned the treetops as we ran, looking for signs of life, preparing myself for an ambush.

I didn't expect it when I saw the movement from one tree coming up on my right. I gazed up at the shifting branches, noticing Reggie crouching on a low branch. He pulled the string back on his bow, an arrow ready in his fingertips.

Rushing forward, I laid a hand on Rawley's back and gave him a nudge to keep him moving forward.

I looked around for something to save us. I didn't find anything. I rattled my brain for anything useful, and miraculously, one thing came to my mind: a memory. My father's stories had been extremely telling, but I never once thought that they would be what saved me during a game in a forest. My father's voice started echoing in my skull.

" _We were running back to camp one night after looting a whole caravan's worth of coin. It was one of the best raids I had ever been party to!"_

My chest heaved in breaths as I tried to think. What exactly had he said?

" _The merchants were being followed by a cavalry of knights who chased us almost back to camp. Their arrows were fast. I'd never seen arrows fly through the air that fast."_

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment. Come on, what did he say about them? I struggled to grab ahold of the memory as I pushed myself forward.

" _So, we started weaving left and right. It's hard to aim at a moving target, but even harder when their path is unpredictable and blocked by the foliage. We'd stay left for a second, then weave right for half a second, making sure we were crossing trees as we went. So, they couldn't get us. We barely escaped that day."_

Finally, I thought. The idea firmly in my head, I smiled at the reminiscence before breaking back to reality.

My father had weaved in between trees.

I narrowed my eyes ahead. That was exactly what we were going to do.

I looked up at Enders, who was leading everyone, flag in hand, racing toward an invisible finish line.

Reggie was long behind us now, but the further we ran, the more I realized that arrows were still coming down – and fast. I took the risk of looking back and saw men in the trees. Every twenty yards, I saw another archer, pointing a blunt arrow in our direction.

It didn't take long for me to do that math and realize that two or three groups were either working together or taking advantage of the other's placement.

Regardless, I kept running.

I broke away from the line, racing adjacent to Rawley, avoiding arrows from all around.

I pumped my legs harder, jumping over renegade logs, and forcing myself forward.

It felt like slow motion when I passed Candor and Elwin, catching up to the front with Enders after a few seconds.

"Enders!" I yelled to him, running as fast as I could. "Cut right!" I felt like the words couldn't come out fast enough. The air in my lungs was not enough for me to keep going, but I had no choice.

Enders nodded quickly, taking a moment to look back at me, before following my eye's line of sight to an archer on my right.

I quickly changed course, looking up at the archer, who now had to change the direction of arrows.

I forced my legs faster, leading the group. I glanced backward to make sure everyone followed. I saw everybody behind me, looking exhausted and tired. A flurry of arrows rained down behind us as I bobbed and weaved between the trees.

I quickly cut left, less arrows flying than before, implanting themselves into the dirt behind our group of five.

Enders reestablished his grip on the flag and kept up his pace, running just behind me.

One thing was for certain: Reggie's whole team had taken to the trees immediately, along with at least one other group.

My lungs felt like they'd explode, my legs started to burn, and my heart felt like it would beat right out of my chest. I noticed Enders struggling to keep his breath and starting to slow down.

The sound of arrows flying faded and disappeared completely, becoming something of a distant memory.

I was relieved to slow to a light jog, the team following in suit until we were all eventually stopped and heaving in breaths.

We stood around in a circular formation for a few minutes, trying to catch our breaths in silence.

"We need a plan." Enders broke that silence, panting loudly, forcing air into his lungs. He placed his right hand on his right knee, propping himself up, but giving himself enough time to catch his breath, while his left hand held the flag.

I placed my hands on my hips, heaving in breaths and exhaling hard. "Aye." I said, simply.

I noticed Rawley looking around the forestry. "We could bury the flag." He suggested, his breathing far less struggled than the others. His black hair swayed slightly, brushing against his eyebrows, while he spoke.

I raised an eyebrow. I mulled over the idea, then nodded approvingly. I looked at Enders, who was looking at the floor, trying to catch his breath.

"I like that idea. We wouldn't have to worry about it as long as we keep it hidden." Elwin chimed in, his breath just as labored as the others.

Candor nodded in approval but said nothing. His main focus was on breathing. Instead, he gave a weary thumbs-up.

I nodded. "We'll bury the flag, then." I looked around the forest floor, spotting a huge oak tree with large roots that protruded the soil. I looked to Enders, pointing out the roots. "There," I said, taking a few achy steps. "The roots will keep it hidden."

Enders nodded, looking to the tree. "Sure." He stood up straight, holding the flag in his grip. "Cover me while I hide it." He commanded.

I followed Enders as he went to the roots and tried to make the flag invisible.

"Hurry." I warned, my eyes shifty and vulnerable.

Enders sighed and rolled his eyes. "You try hiding a huge flag in a small section of roots." He whispered harshly.

A second later he stood, examining his handiwork as the other three men all leaned against trees, their eyes closed in exhaustion.

"How are we supposed to find everyone else?" Rawley asked, looking around the foliage, after Enders and I returned. "Sherwood Forest is huge."

Elwin shrugged. "We could sit in the trees and wait."

Enders shook his head. "Everyone else has probably already taken to the trees. We need to draw them out."

Candor sighed. "How do you propose we do that?" He asked, looking around, raising one hand to wipe some of his hair out of his face.

I could barely see the thin line of sweat marring his face. I hadn't even noticed the sun had started to rise.

A twig snapped in the distance and echoed throughout the forest.

Everyone turned their heads to the noise.

I bit my lip. "We'll split up."

"What?" Rawley asked, scrunching his eyebrows together and looking at me. He placed two hands on his hips and threw his head back to get more air. He let his eyes come back to mine after he took a deep breath. "That's a terrible idea. What if they come after us?"

I looked at him and nodded, taking in breaths. "Not unless we have a plan. Enders said we need to draw them out. We can't do that if we're all in the trees." I stopped speaking for a moment and looked around the treetops. "I think this is the best place to stage an ambush of some sort."

Enders raised an eyebrow at me. "Ambush?"

When I turned my eyes on him, my stomach did a flip. What in the name of...

His hair was damp and hung over his eyes, bringing out their brown color. His skin shone with a layer of sweat and his eyebrow sat attractively over one eye. It was a look I'd seen on him a million times, but this time something inside of me felt different about it.

I didn't like it. Not at all.

I tried to bury the butterflies in my stomach, albeit unsuccessfully, telling myself it was the morning sunlight that was starting to make me feel weird. It was a blatant lie, but I refused to contest it.

Ever since we met in Dexthorpe, I'd known he was handsome, but this could not be a feeling I harbored. I would not let it be.

"Uh," I whispered, my focus momentarily disrupted and my voice wavering. I nodded my head. "Yes, ambush."

Another faint snap echoed in the distance.

"We don't have time to delegate this, men." I said, turning my eyes to Rawley and Elwin. "You two are some of the best archers in the camp. It would be best if you took to the trees."

The two men considered it, and nodded agreeably.

"Candor, you're a great runner, but you're a better climber. Enders and I are the fastest runners, we'll invade the other teams' territories and lure them out. After we've got them out, you can go in, take care of anybody in your way, and steal their flags."

Candor smiled wickedly. "So, you want me to knock the others unconscious?"

I gave him a stern look. "Preferably not. Eliminate them from the exercise. That's all."

Snap! The echo of the snapping branch rang out closer this time.

"We're good with this plan?" Enders asked everyone.

All the men nodded, Rawley and Elwin rushing off to two opposing trees.

"Let's go, then." I said, running off into the deeper forest, Candor and Enders running on each of my sides.

*~*~*

Enders and I walked carefully in silence as we watched Candor from afar. The three of us had decided to split into two groups to ensure that if Enders and I were caught, Candor would still be in the game.

I had to admit I enjoyed having this small element of surprise on my team.

Enders and I walked in silence, careful not to step on any loud twigs and branches.

Enders cleared his throat quietly, garnering my attention. I glanced at him, letting him know that I was listening, before I went back to surveying the area and keeping a good eye on Candor.

"Thank you for saving our flag back there." He said, simply.

I nodded, trying not to smile. I thought the tone of his voice was endearing even though I knew it wasn't meant to be. "You're welcome."

Enders nodded, keeping silent for a few moments longer.

I kept my eyes on Candor, as we kept forward at a slow pace.

I stopped moving when Candor had stopped to look at the treetops.

I tried to perk up my ears to hear what he must be hearing.

Then, I saw Candor turn to make eye contact and pointed to the treetops at his right.

"He's hearing something." Enders said, brushing against my skin on his way past me. "Let's go."

I felt chills on my fingertips and my heart thump wildly, but I kept moving.

"What's going on?" I whispered to Candor.

Candor looked to his right, holding up his hand. "Listen."

At first, I heard nothing, but as a few seconds passed, I heard a faint sound of laughter.

"One of the teams are just over here." Candor pointed to his right.

I nodded. "We'll go in and lure them away. When you see us running south, go in and do whatever needs to be done." I said, starting to walk away. I paused and turned back to Candor. "Within reason, that is."

Candor nodded. "Understood."

I started off in the direction of the laughter, Enders walking beside me. "You ready for this?" I asked him.

Enders nodded, determination written in his brown eyes. "You bet."

*~*~*

"Enders, go left!" I shouted as we raced southbound. Arrows whizzed by us from left and right.

Enders looked to me and nodded as he broke away and bolted toward the spot where our archers waited.

"Henry!" Enders shouted, catching my attention. "This way!"

I made a sharp left and began running adjacent to Enders.

The men chasing us had either stopped shooting or run out of arrows.

Enders and I had their territory in sight as we raced toward the huge oak tree with so much force that when we heard the arrows from Rawley and Elwin start to fire, we kept going. We heard the loud expletives shouted from the men following us, and then slowed several paces past our archers.

Ducking behind two large oaks, we collapsed on the bark and listened to the chaos, although it didn't last long.

Rawley whistled when it was safe for the two of us to come out, and upon hearing that whistle, we walked out, sore and weak.

"That looked painful." Elwin commented to me.

I nodded to him as I caught my breath.

Enders chuckled a bit. "Aye."

The sound of stomping, running feet came to my ears, before slowing down and entering our small clearing.

Candor walked next to the tree, tired and out of breath.

"What happened?" I asked, leaning against the tree.

Candor took several deep breaths, before placing one hand on his hip and reaching the other into his pants' waistband and pulling out a white cloth. He smiled victoriously as he held it up. It was torn in two halves, the stick that made it a flag completely gone. The once pearl white material was now coated with dirt and grass stains.

I lifted an eyebrow. "What happened to it?"

Enders chuckled. "Did you do that or did they do that?"

Candor examined it in his hands to make sure he had both halves. "They had it on this high branch on one of the oak trees. I climbed all the way to the top and had to push someone off to get to it."

I widened my eyes at him, looking at Enders who shared the same expression. We glanced at each other before turning our attention back to Candor.

"Is he okay?" Enders asked, his eyebrow arching over one eye.

Candor tilted his head, puzzled. "Oh, the man I pushed off the tree?" He asked. "Aye, he's fine. I checked him. He wasn't bleeding or anything. He said it hurt his backside, though."

Awh man.

I mean, I knew we were playing this game to win, but I didn't like the idea of pushing people out of trees. "Was it necessary to push him?"

Candor recoiled a bit. "Of course! He was holding the flag hostage. I had to get to it."

I nodded. "Alright, then."

I looked at the root sticking up in the ground at my foot. I had to swallow down the urge to ask Candor more questions about the other man's health. Biting my tongue, I nodded my head toward the place we buried our flag. "Bury it and we'll get the next one. We already have two." I said, rubbing my forehead and making sure my hat was on correctly. "So, we only have three left."

Enders rolled his eyes and snorted. "Shouldn't this be easy for you, McBride? I'd assume your father would have taught you this."

I blew out a breath, ignoring his eye roll. "I wish it were."

*~*~*

Enders and I raced toward our territory, weaving in between trees as we moved. I heard Candor behind me, breathing heavily and running as fast as he could in his exhausted state. He had one of the last flags in his hand and he was not going to give it up.

I looked back to survey the damage that was being done behind me. Four men were running in a line after Candor. Sure enough, it was their flag that Candor held in his left hand.

Enders looked exhausted and I had come to notice his limp getting more prominent as he ran toward our spot. I knew we were almost there and that the second we raced into the area, Elwin and Rawley would be firing off a set of arrows that wouldn't let up until they were eliminated.

I started to count down the seconds. In about ten, we'd be safely behind our own borders and the archers would take care of our opposition.

I forced my legs to move harder than I'd ever moved before.

Five seconds, I thought as I whizzed by the trees.

Two more seconds and we would be one more flag to winning the competition!

We broke through the trees and raced to the other side, listening as arrows flew everywhere behind us, beating down on the men tailing us.

"That was harsh!" Candor exclaimed, exhaling and heaving in breaths. He leaned his body weight on a great oak and held the captured flag to his chest.

I chuckled, looking at him as I leaned up against a tree next to Candor's. "It's a rush though, isn't it?"

Candor chuckled, saying nothing more. He put his focus on breathing.

I turned my attention to Enders as we hid away from the cursing shouts of the other men. "Are you alright?"

Enders' breathing was heavy and labored. He nodded, looking out into the forest.

A whistle rang out, signaling that the coast was clear. Rawley had come up with the idea and now I was admitting that it was brilliant.

I sighed, closing my eyes gently before opening them again, exhaustion starting to take over my body.

Enders raised an eyebrow at me, a small smile on his lips.

"What?" I narrowed my eyes on him. A smile? From Enders? To me? That wasn't normal, or frequent.

"You're not half bad at this." He said, letting his smile return to a thin line.

"Did you actually compliment me?" I arched an eyebrow at him, skeptical.

He shrugged. "I'm your mentor."

"You've been my mentor for four months and you've threatened me more than you've complimented me."

At that, his lip twitched and he chuckled as he stared at the ground.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. I gritted my teeth against the sound of my heartbeat speeding up in my ears. Stop, I willed.

Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back against the tree and tried to focus on something else – anything else.

"You okay?" His gruff voice caught me by surprise again.

Cracking open one eye, I peered at him. "Yes. Why?"

I was almost appalled when he nodded toward my chest. Then, I casted my eyes down and saw my hand sitting there above my heart. Had I really been rubbing circles over my heart this whole time? I'm such an idiot. Letting out a quick chuckle, I nodded. "I'm fine."

Enders eyed me for a moment before walking up to me and holding his hand out to help me. "Come on. Let's get this last flag so we can get some sleep."

I hesitated for a moment, staring at his hand.

Part of me wanted to take it and feel the way electricity fluttered up my skin when he touched me during our training sessions, but another – greater – part of me was scared that his touch would encourage this stupid pull I had to him. It was like he drew me in somehow, and I wasn't at all sure what it meant.

Then again, it was a great courtesy that he was extending to me. Never once had Enders been this friendly to me, and if I didn't accept this offer of good will, it could be interpreted as an act of aggression.

I waited too long deliberating if I should let myself fall and take his hand.

His eye quirked up at me, as he glanced between me and his hand. "Something wrong?"

Shaking my head, I took his hand in my own, pulling myself up and letting out a quiet "thank you" before trying my best to keep my wild heartbeat under control.

I walked toward the clearing, silently kicking myself for letting my heart thump so hard at the touch of his hand to mine. I quietly sighed, lifting one hand to my forehead, making sure all my hair was tucked neatly inside my hat, before walking into the area where the archers were stationed.

"Ready, men?" Enders asked, his voice carrying to me from over my shoulder. His tone was oddly serious and drained. He seemed so completely worn out.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Enders asked, an eyebrow again raised in my direction.

Enders took the lead, turning away from me and leading us toward the direction of the archers.

I stood still for a moment, frozen and fighting my heart as I watched his determined walk and the twitch of a smile plague his lips.

*~*~*

The sound of feet pounding on the dirt floor, legs burning with every jump, hop, and skip over foliage that littered itself on the soil beneath, seemed to echo loudly throughout the trees.

This was one of those moments that I couldn't explain.

How exactly had we failed so miserably?

The opposite team was gaining on us with every step. I could hear their hollering shouts and their feet beating grass behind us.

I was getting tired and weak, just as Candor and Enders were. I could tell by the way they dragged themselves through the forest that they were exhausted.

Candor looked back as he ran, gripping the flag to his chest tightly.

I was sure we would make it back to our base before the other team caught us. Keeping this in mind, I pushed forward, watching Candor and the flag.

The trees seemed to become a blur as I rushed past all the foliage in the forest. My mind was on one thing and one thing only: make it to Rawley and Elwin with the flag.

It wasn't much farther, I noticed, passing a green piece of cloth that hung tied to a tree. It was a marker Enders had put up to lead us to the archers.

I would have let out a sigh of relief if I wasn't focused on trying to control the way my lungs were heaving in breaths.

Facing forward, my feet almost faltered at what my eyes landed on.

A menacing figure stood in the path before us, staring with his bow raised high, ready to fire.

I faltered slightly, feeling one man's fingertips graze my arm. I immediately yelped, picking up the pace and breaking right, away from Enders and Candor, who broke left.

The other team didn't stop their chase, one of its members following me while the rest chased after Enders and Candor.

I glanced back, seeing a somewhat taller, slim man running after me. My eyes stared for a second, while my feet tripped over themselves with every other step, but I wasn't finished yet. I was getting careless because of my exhaustion, but I was hell-bent on not giving up.

That's when I saw it: a small oak with several low branches sticking out in different directions. It was about five seconds away, and I knew without thinking that I only had one option left.

The tree came closer and closer until finally I could grip it and swing myself around the side.

The man came around the side of the tree, his eyes expecting to see me running down the path. Instead, he saw nobody in front of him. He turned around searching the area with his eyes.

I took no time to breathe, running around the side of the great oak, jumping on his back and trying to keep myself on.

I knew I probably wasn't going to make it back to Rawley and Elwin. This would be the end of the game for me, I'd be hit with the arrow and have the bruise to prove it. I kept fighting, hoping to buy Enders and Candor better chances with the men chasing after them.

I kicked at the man's legs, trying to get him to fall, but lost my balance. My arms wrapped around his neck, holding on for dear life as the man shook me back and forth. My small frame helped me stay attached longer than I should have.

I expected the pain when it happened, my body losing its will to hang on, I was flung into a nearby tree, and crashed painfully into the ground. The cracking of my bow – that had been strapped to my back since I'd entered the forest – had me groaning an expletive under my breath. My quiver – made of woven straw – had been so strong, I thought it would have survived, but when I scrambled to my feet, I realized that it had cracked in two and dropped every arrow I'd carried onto the grass at my feet. Dragging in breaths that were supposed to be calming, I tried to remind myself that I wasn't in any real danger. This was just a game, after all, but that couldn't stop the pounding of my heart, and the fear in my eyes.

The moment the man lifted his bow felt like the world slowed its motion, a joyous smile invading his lips as he did so. I watched as he pulled the string on his bow back.

Then, time sped up. An arrow did fly, but the man standing before me still held his at the ready, on the string of his beautifully crafted bow. A loud thump sounded off the man's shoulder as his eyes immediately looked to his right.

The man shouted a loud expletive, as he lowered his bow. A smile splayed on his lips as he looked to his right, addressing the person there. "I've got to say, that was a damn good shot." The man shook his head and turned away from me, walking toward the camp.

I felt frozen in time. My heart hadn't slowed down, and I felt like I was going to faint from exhaustion.

My eyes widened and a sigh of relief left my lips as I saw Enders come out from behind the oak tree I'd been thrown against.

He walked toward me, his eyes roaming over me with appraising eyes. Without uttering a word, he extended his hand to me.

I muttered a low "thank you," before taking his hand and getting on my feet. I looked around as adrenaline started to wear off. "What happened to Candor?"

Enders sighed, frustration clear in his voice. "He's out."

I was slightly taken aback. "The flag?"

"They took it back." Enders took a few steps forward, waiting silently for me to walk with him.

I raised an eyebrow, sighing. I limped alongside him. "Are Rawley and Elwin still in the clearing?"

Enders shook his head. "They were found out."

I let my mouth hang open. "You and I are the only two left?"

Enders smiled sarcastically, tilting his head somewhat. "Not exactly. They're being held captive. The other team says they'll only give us our archers if we give them two flags, leaving us with only our own." He sighed again, his exhaustion clear. "We could try and fight them now that they're down one person, but somehow I don't imagine that ending well."

I nodded. Silence filled the air for a few minutes as we slowed down and leaned against trees.

"We don't have much of a choice." I said, looking at a groggy Enders. "We have to fight without Rawley and Elwin."

"I know." Enders groaned.

*~*~*

An hour later, I managed to climb one of the thickest trees on the outskirts of the other teams' meeting area. I watched down below as the men held Rawley and Elwin at arrow-point.

Enders was slowly making his way up a tree next to mine.

Enders and I had concluded that it wasn't likely that we'd save either of the archers in time. When the team was aware of our presence, they'd make sure to take Rawley and Elwin out of the game.

Enders had finally made his way to a comfortable, high, sturdy branch above the opposing teams' eyesight. He turned to me, pointing down to a man on the right of the area.

I, having no bow, held a bag of rocks and sticks. I really wasn't any good with a bow, so I wasn't heartbroken at having lost it somewhere. I couldn't even remember where I'd dropped it.

The tree. When the man slammed me against the tree. I gritted my teeth against the memory of the pain lacing through my lungs.

I looked to Enders and nodded, my sign that I was ready to ambush.

Enders nodded back, training his eye on the man.

I held up a rock, throwing it down at the man I'd been aiming for. I missed terribly, but it served to startle him.

The man jumped, a commotion breaking out in camp. He ran toward the other team members, yelling to take out the captives.

Rawley and Elwin protested the decision, but that didn't deter the other team. Rawley was shot in the shoulder first, then Elwin earned a shot to the chest. They stood, and made their way west toward the Sherwood encampment.

I noticed that Enders didn't miss a shot. He was a fast shooter, and he was accurate. I compared him in my mind to the likes of Robin Hood himself.

I, on the other hand, wasn't offering much in the way of battle.

That's when the men spotted me. I looked around, trying to find an escape route. Finding none, I tried to climb down.

My feet lost balance, my body shook from being malnourished, and without warning, my body toppled over the high branch.

When I fell, it didn't feel like anything. It was only when I hit the ground that I realized that I wasn't that high at all.

I stared up at Enders in the tree above me, trying hard to aim accurately at the men coming toward me. He sent an arrow flying, and I heard a loud expletive from one of the other men.

I felt the pain of the headless arrow before I realized I'd been hit. I raised a hand immediately to my chest where the arrow had made contact with my body, just under my collarbone. That would be a bad bruise, I knew.

Less than twenty seconds passed before Enders fell out of his tree, landing beside me with a loud thud, and earning his own arrow to the shoulder.

### Chapter Twelve

The sun sat low on the horizon as I stared up at the trees in the distance. The rays felt warm on my skin, and I didn't want to miss any of the sunlight that I could get. It was beautiful to me, the way the sun went down and signified the end of a day. The transition to night was a peaceful thing, calming and quiet. I felt at ease as I watched the summer trees sway in the warm wind.

I chewed on my bottom lip as I watched the water wave gently around itself. Anxiety closed in on me as I furrowed my eyebrows at the water.

It may have been peaceful in Sherwood, but I knew I didn't belong. There wasn't much of a future in this camp and I wasn't kidding myself by thinking I could gain one.

I chuckled to myself, a small, sad smile on my lips. No, of course I didn't belong, and I knew it. Other than the totally obvious fact that I was a woman, I had no desire for blood-lust like the other outlaws had. I had no desire to kill people or be the best outlaw there ever was. Hell, I didn't even care for raiding other people's things. In fact, if they weren't raiding rich and corrupt folk, I would have refused to participate altogether.

Many times, I thought I might be greedy, wanting a better life for myself and willing to give up so much for it. But, the truth of the matter was that I had never really been selfish. Not with material things, not with my family, not with anything.

For that reason, I felt different.

Outlaws were supposed to be greedy, angry, compulsive, and brutal.

And, I was none of those things.

But...then again, neither were Enders or Reggie.

My ears perked up slightly as I heard the bridge creak under me, footsteps echoing along the length of the wooden planks.

I didn't bother to look up, certain that they would walk past me and patrol the other end of the forest. Instead, the creaking came closer, got louder, and stopped altogether next to me.

I looked up, squinting in the remnant of sunlight.

Robin Hood stood nonchalantly looking over the ravine, and into the horizon.

"Oh!" I blurted out, shocked at his presence. "Hood!" I reached one hand up and made sure my hair was safely tucked into my hat. "I was, uh..."

Robin smiled and looked around. "May I?" He asked motioning to the spot beside me on the bridge.

I relaxed, nodding as he took a seat, shaking the bridge ever so slightly with his movement. I tilted my attention back to the sunset when Robin propped one leg up and let the other hang off the wood's edge. He propped his arm up on his knee.

A comfortable silence enveloped us for a few seconds. I found it strange when I realized I'd never really talked with him.

"It's beautiful, Isn't it?" Robin asked, breaking the silence, a comfortable smile on his lips.

I turned to glance at him quickly, trying to figure out what he was thinking. "Yes, it absolutely is."

I mentally kicked myself for the high-pitched words that came out of my mouth, although by the look of it, Robin hadn't noticed.

"No person who comes here," He said, taking in a deep breath and sighing, "truly sees it. They come because they have to fight or they have no other place to go." He paused, leaning over and dipping his hand in the cool, clear water. "No one ever comes here to see the beauty of it."

I nodded and let my feet dangle off the bridge lazily. "I notice." I said, looking down at my hands. "The beauty, I mean."

Robin smiled at the water in his hands. "At least someone does."

Another silence – although comforting – befell us.

Robin fiddled with something in his hands as I slouched, watching the water glisten as the sun descended over the horizon.

"Do you always watch the sun set out here?" Robin asked, giving me a quick look before looking back to the item in his hands.

I shrugged, glancing back at him. I took in a deep breath before letting out a "no." I turned my attention to the glistening waters again. "Not all the time. I try to whenever I'm not too tired."

Robin snorted. "At least you make the effort to notice the nature around you." He paused. "You chose the best spot to watch the sunset." A small smile splayed on his lips, his fingertips still grazing over the item in his hands. "It's nice to have a quiet place to remember all of the things you're here for. This forest has a way of making you forget about the things you've left behind." He reached into the water again. "Warm baths, comfortable beds..." He trailed off.

"Your wife and son." I blurted out before I realized what I had said – and to whom, for that matter.

To my shock, Robin only shrugged. "Aye, and your father."

I felt Robin start to move, his feet shuffling under him as he stood, the bridge shaking with the movement. "It matters not why we do something, but who we're doing it for." He said, as he stared out at the river again.

Everything was silent for a moment while I let that sink in.

I had left Dexthorpe for me. So, what purpose did I have now? Who was I doing all of this for? For me?

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, unsure about myself and my intentions. I was happier here, for sure, but I supposed I'd stopped searching for a purpose when I got comfortable in the Sherwood camp.

"Anyway," Robin breathed out, "Decent work today. We're giving you command of your own group."

I stared at him for a moment, trying to process the words he spoke. What? What?! Struggling to find the words, I somehow managed to squeak out: "Why me?"

"Everyone said you were leading them with the qualities I look for in my men."

I shook my head. "I wasn't leading them, really. Enders did a lot more than I did. I've only been here a few months. Enders has been here for over a year."

"Let me amend my statement for you. Everyone out there – even the men on other teams – said that you were leading them." Robin smiled – smiled – at me, as if he were genuinely happy to see the dumb-struck look on my face. "This is not a difficult task, Henry, so take it or leave it. If I can't have my own son here to do it, Harrison McBride's son is the next best thing."

I stared at him, unsure of what to say. I opened and closed my mouth twice trying to understand how I had managed to land myself in this position.

My expression earned a chuckle out of Robin. "Your first assignment is next week."

I felt the footsteps as he turned his back and started back down the wooden arch.

I sat shocked, my mouth hanging open. This wasn't supposed to have happened. This was something I never considered. How had I now managed to become the leader of a group of men? I only wanted to stay for a few more months and maybe settle somewhere far away in a small village.

I...did decent work today? I had impressed Robin?

Looking around the camp, a huge grin peaked out on the edge of my lips. I wanted to run after him and ask if he was insane, but he had already raced off the archway and was on his way to the evening fires for an evening meal.

I turned my eyes back to the water and stared in a daze out at the Rainworth Water River. All my doubts seemed to have dissolved, all my fears vanished, and I felt true happiness for the first time since I'd arrived.

Slowly, the edges of my mouth curved up into a tentative grin, my heart fluttering with joy.

I finally belonged.

### Chapter Thirteen

I wished that I could have said the sun woke me up that morning, but it didn't. I had been up all night, tossing and turning about this assignment Robin had given me.

I took my first step out of the cabin that morning and walked over to a clearing next to the bridge. I leaned my left shoulder against a tree and looked out over the river that sat quietly in Sherwood. I smiled at the water and closed my eyes, feeling a breeze caress my face. The wind pushed gently at my hat, but the fabric on my head sat stubbornly in place.

It had been two weeks since I'd become to the head of my own group. I ran over my teammates in my head. I knew their strengths and their weaknesses. I knew where to put them and what they were good for. I felt confident, but for some reason I was putting off my first task.

Robin had come to me two days ago and told me that I would be doing it this morning and that was final. He said there would be an important caravan coming through and it might contain powerful information on the royal palace – Newark Castle.

I tried to tell him I wasn't well, that I couldn't do it today, but he told me he would have none of that. I was a McBride. I could do anything.

I stared over the lake. I was nervous about having three other lives resting in my hands. I wondered if my father would be proud of me and my accomplishments. Of course, he would be angry, but maybe he would be proud that I'd followed in his footsteps.

"Henry," a voice called to me.

I opened my eyes, my thoughts stopping and my heart pausing at the voice. I felt myself get self-conscious in front of him, aware of my stance and facial expressions.

"Enders," I greeted him back. I heard him step closer, and when he came into view, I refused to look at him and get myself distracted. I hadn't forgotten that Enders was under my command now, but it didn't help to think about it. I felt a blush of red creep to my cheeks, but I suppressed it.

"Everyone is eating their breakfast by the fire." Enders said, leaning against an adjacent tree and looking in my direction. "We'll be ready to leave in a few minutes."

"Have you eaten?" I asked, using a gruff voice I'd learned by listening to Aldridge Chadwick every time he spoke.

Enders sighed, and looked out over the water. "I haven't been hungry."

I kept my eyes straight and even. "Go break your fast before we leave."

Enders raised an eyebrow at me. "I'm not hungry."

"You're our strongest archer and our best swordsman. Without food you'll be weak, and if you're weak you can't do much to protect yourself, or anyone else for that matter. I'm counting on you to be at your best. So," I said, taking in a deep breath and turning my body to him, my arms crossed, "Go eat something before we leave."

I wanted to cringe at how motherly that command came out.

Enders almost smiled, which – I admit – was a little strange. He nodded before turning his back and walking the way he'd come, toward a fire burning in the distance where I saw Reggie and Elwin tiredly eating by the flames.

I took in one more deep breath before leaving the river and having a piece of beef jerky with my crew.

*~*~*

We had set off about an hour ago and we were finally almost at our destination. It was a cut-off pathway from the main road that led through a small clearing, which gave us some time to set up and wait out the caravan to raid.

We were about ten minutes away from the main path. Gently, I placed foot behind opposite foot, walking backwards and taking up the rear of the line. Reggie and Elwin were in the middle, supposed to be covering both of their sides while Enders took up the lead.

"How fortunate does one have to be to be Candor?" Elwin sighed, his head bobbing from his front to his right in a sad attempt at watching the forest.

"Fortunate enough to have to come down with something, I suppose." Reggie added quietly. "Rawley as well, although I'm inclined to believe he's still under the grasp of his drinks last night."

"Ah, to be able to drink without worry." Elwin spoke with a dreamy quality in his voice. "My mother never let me. I suppose I could now."

"Aye, my wife does not like me drinking either."

I took in a deep breath before letting it out and breathing my words, "let's try not to be envious of the sickly members of our community and move on."

"I wonder how my family feels about my leaving."

I felt myself roll my eyes at Elwin's obvious lack of attention. He was not the malicious type, so I didn't feel like he was ignoring me to be rude. All of us wondered the same thing – Elwin was just more outspoken about his emotions. It was a refreshing change of pace when Elwin spoke so openly. Usually.

"I know my wife is not happy about it," Reggie confessed, sighing into the warm summer air.

Elwin snorted. "Aye, unless she's looking for a way to rid herself of you." He laughed at his own joke, receiving a small nudge from Reggie.

Reggie's deep laugh was unusually contagious, but it wasn't working on my nervous mind this morning. It wasn't working for Enders, either. In fact, it seemed that the joyous conversation was only enjoyed between Elwin and Reggie, neither of which took things very seriously. Reggie's laugh boomed throughout the forest and reverberated off the trees.

Enders immediately turned around and looked at them, as did I, giving the men condescending looks for their rowdy behavior.

"Have you forgotten how dangerous this forest is?" Enders scolded, after hushing them.

I tried to stay quiet, not particularly in the mood to disguise my voice in my groggy state.

"Oh please. We have to lighten up if we intend on keeping our sanity." Elwin said, although he complied with a quieter tone. He kept his voice low, turning to Reggie again. "I agree, though. My soon-to-be would be appalled at the things we're doing."

Reggie gave another laugh, quieter but still much too loud.

Enders again turned around. "Reggie!" Enders demanded, warning Reggie for his voice and turning forward again.

Elwin rolled his eyes. "When you are expecting to be married, you'll understand."

Enders' knuckles whitened on his bow. He turned his body and caused them to stop short, making everyone come to a stop. "I understand fine enough, Elwin. Now, stay quiet."

Enders turned back around and started walking slowly. Elwin raised an eyebrow before exchanging a glance with Reggie as they continued their pace.

I kept forward for a little while, knowing nothing was behind us, and wanting to keep the men from ripping each other apart. I watched as the Reggie and Elwin seemed to be having a silent conversation with each other. Elwin nodded at Reggie, in Enders' direction, and Reggie shook his head and nodded back.

I watched with deadpanned eyes, only slightly amused when Reggie nudged Elwin's arm and caused him to stumble a bit.

Finally, Elwin relented and looked to Enders. "Are you getting married, Enders?" Elwin asked, in an unusually gentler tone.

Enders' back seemed to become as stone. He froze and everything seemed to have completely stopped. He took a sharp intake of breath and decided to keep walking. "Aye."

I froze for a moment, watching the way he reacted and the way he held himself. He didn't look unhappy, but he didn't look jovial either.

Strange, I thought, but kept walking with the rest of them.

Enders had started walking stiffly, uncomfortably, like he wanted this conversation to be over.

I had known that Enders was a private person and didn't like to speak about his person life, but this was different. This felt external, like something else was making him uncomfortable.

Elwin let out a booming laugh that echoed around the forest.

I thought he did it spitefully.

Enders spun around again and stared at Elwin, his eyes enraged and fiery. He was fuming with anger. "If it's all the same to you, Elwin, I'd like to live to see mine."

I kept my eyes straight and even, trying to ignore the dramatics happening in front of me. I focused on the forest and the forest alone.

Elwin and Reggie fell silent as Enders turned forward again. Everyone started walking, but the silence only lasted a moment.

"You mean," Elwin started, "you've never met her?"

I rolled my eyes, having no desire to continue this topic.

All was quiet for several long seconds, and, it was both irritating and excruciating. Elwin and Reggie wouldn't stop badgering him about his apparent beloved, so I mentally begged him to just get it over with and speak.

"I have." Enders said, before sighing. He then added, "once recently and twice in our youths."

I tried to fight my curiosity, but my will to fight came up empty, and I found my ears perked at the answer.

That was sparse even to me – and what the hell did I know about engagements? If I were going to marry someone, I thought, I'd meet them more than three times.

"What is she like then?" Reggie found the courage to ask.

"How do you know her?" Elwin chimed in.

I shook my head, annoyed that I was interested, but I listened intently regardless.

"Her father is a friend of my father." Enders said, his back muscles still tense and stone-like.

I raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. He'd only talked about his father twice, but he never mentioned anything more than a word or two about him.

Elwin was the one that got enough courage to ask again, "what do you know about her?"

Enders tensed even more, if that were even possible. He stopped walking momentarily before picking up the pace again.

I decided it was best to keep an eye on the forest behind us and turned around to walk backward again.

I noticed that Enders started to speak with more confidence. "She's the daughter of a prominent Sherwood outlaw. When we met, she was..." Enders trailed off, leaving us in silence while he tried to think of the words to use.

I expected him to start spouting off some sappy words of love, but he didn't. Instead, he said, "She was bold, and a bit audacious. Long, brown hair and brown eyes. The other women of Dexthorpe were concerned since she didn't have a mother. Other than that, I know not much." He finished quickly.

"Not even a name?" Reggie asked, sympathetically.

I froze in my spot. Did he say Dexthorpe? A bold, audacious, concerning girl without a mother in Dexthorpe?

My heart started to race a mile a minute. A paleness blushed over my skin.

It couldn't be...

Enders sighed, letting the air around us turn thick and that was the only confirmation my brain truly needed.

I turned around and stared at his moving form, jaw hung ajar and my hands hanging limply at my sides. There were only 23 families in the village, and only three of the other girls had lost their mothers – I'd counted many times in my youth after being made fun of for my boyishness.

All their mothers had died when the girls had been old enough to marry. I had been the only one that the women worried about because I hadn't ever known mine.

Denial and anger warred within my blood as I felt the betrayal of my father's decision deep in the pit of my stomach. He would never promise me to someone without even consulting me. Had he truly betrayed my trust even before Aaron?

Then an idea smacked me like it was a wineskin filled with rocks. When he told our elderly neighbor, Edwin, that I would be wed before the year ended, he didn't mean to Aaron Rueben.

Enders stopped walking, dragged in a deep breath, and turned around, his eyes colliding with mine.

Horror and fury grew up my neck and blushed over my skin. I felt the blood start to thump in my ears and thrum through my veins. "Say it." I demanded.

I knew what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth to say it: "Harlow McBride."

I was certain I growled or something, because Enders took a step backward and let his hand hover over the hilt of his sword, but I didn't even care.

No. Surely not. My father wouldn't do that to me...

But, even I knew that he had.

Enders could be arrogant and stubborn. Sometimes, he could be an arse. But, he was no liar.

I examined him for as long as I needed – maybe twenty whole seconds – and the more I looked at his frame, his almost shame-ridden stance, guilty-faced, frighteningly genuine expression of sincere apology, I knew it was true.

I fought to keep myself together, trying to figure out why the hell my father would promise me to someone when he'd instilled in me that my blood made me unavailable.

When I realized that I'd been letting my furious gaze nail into him, I noticed how sorry he looked.

And, he should be sorry, I thought to myself. But, he was sorry for reasons that didn't matter. I saw it in the way he eyed me like I might snap and attack him. He was sorry for not telling me – Henry McBride, the brother of his bride.

I'd seen the lives of housewives in my village and I knew their struggle. There was a time when I vied for that life – but now? I was the leader of a whole group of outlaws. I'd finally found a place a belonged.

And now, I felt true horror because I knew deep in my soul that everything I had worked for was going to be for naught.

*~*~*

It was the first time in months that I'd heard my own name.

My father already signed me off? He'd already prepared for me a suitor?

He hadn't even told me.

The way I saw it, Enders seemed content about the engagement.

An uncertain future unraveled in my brain within moments: an uncaring husband, a life I never wanted, and my only and greatest joy being the sight of a full moon every so often.

My worst fears were coming to life and I had no way to fight it.

Yes, he was attractive, I'd known that for months. I felt it in every beat of my heart, in every footfall that matched with his, in every stolen glance and wave of his bronze hair. I felt something toward him that I'd been ignoring because I was supposed to be a boy, and that is what Enders thought I was. But, my heart was choking in indecision. How handsome would he be in ten years? How honest and kind would he be to our children?

Elwin and Reggie quickly zeroed in on me, their eyes widened and their jaws dropped. They watched, waiting for a battle, for a fight to break out.

Enders stared for a moment, and I was certain he was waiting for me to start yelling or fighting...or something.

I hadn't realized it fully, but my anger put the men on edge. That wasn't good. They may start to doubt my leadership...

"Henry, I didn't--" Enders began.

"We're almost to the caravan's path." I said in a gruff voice. "Let's keep moving."

The men complied, all of them falling behind me as I stomped past them and headed to take up the lead. Over the next few minutes, I tried to hold onto my anger and hatred, but I found that the more time passed, the more I hadn't blamed Enders.

It pained my heart, but I blamed my father.

We finally made it to the path, took up our positions, and waited for the caravan.

When the trotting horses came down the pathway, we tied up the driver with speedy precision and took all the useful items. There were some royal scrolls and parchments hidden under the driver's seat. I was sure these were the important sources of information Robin needed. I shoved them in my bag and went through all the other items.

The raid went well, we weren't caught, and nothing out of the ordinary happened, except the awkward silence that filled the air. That seemed normal, I suppose. Was this how brothers acted when they found out about a secret engagement planned for their sisters? I had no idea, but I went with it anyway.

I felt anger pulsing through my veins and tried to rein it in while I walked.

One, two, three, I counted repeatedly until we finally made it back to the clearing before camp, just on the other side of the bridge.

That was record timing, I thought, but then again, no one wanted to be in that uncomfortable silence any longer than needed.

As soon as we walked passed the training grounds, filled with men sparring, Robin met us, interrogating us about the nature of the raid. There wasn't much to report and after giving him all the items we had obtained, everyone went their separate ways.

I went to the bridge, kicking off my boots and lazing around the wooden planks. I dipped my toes into the sparkling water.

I sat for a long time, not counting anything, but simply watching over the horizon. I wondered how this could have happened. How had I let it go right over my head?

The wood creaked gently under me after an hour alone.

I looked at the end, noticing Enders walking toward me, his head held low and watching the wooden planks beneath his feet. He sat beside me, slouching and completely engulfed in his thoughts. "I didn't know if you knew."

I shook my head. "No. I didn't know. She doesn't know either. Our father never told us."

"I'm sorry for not telling you earlier." Enders said, looking out over the horizon.

"Don't be." I said, sitting up. "I don't blame you." I finally took a glance at him, my heart beating faster than ever before. I stomped all over the ridiculous beating when I spoke: "It's not going to work out anyway."

I grabbed my boots and started slipping them on.

I saw him recoil a bit in my periphery. "Why not?"

Oh, so many reasons. When he found out that I'd disguised myself as a boy and deceived every single person in this camp, he'd never want me. Then, there was the aspect of my bloodline. I was unavailable for marriage, and nothing could change that. I shrugged, finally getting my right boot on and slipping on my left with a hard tug. "Maybe someday you will understand."

"That's not a damned answer. This is my future wife we are talking about!"

I turned my eyes up to him. Somehow, while I was lost in thought, he'd stood and arched over me like a mountain. I had to bite my tongue to not scream that this was my life we were talking about. Shaking my head, I opted to remain silent.

"I need an answer, McBride."

"An answer for what?"

"Why you seem hell-bent on keeping me away from your sister."

I lifted one hand and tugged on the brim of my hat, a habit that had come to form over the past six months. "I don't need one." I turned away from him and walked off the bridge, toward the cabin I slept in.

There was no way he would marry me. So, there was really nothing to worry about. That realization was a relief – yet a small part of me was disappointed. There was no man that would accept what I'd done. When Enders found out I was a woman, he would reject our engagement and find someone else. It was only a matter of time.

Marriage just wasn't in my future.

And, that's what I forced myself to believe.

### Chapter Fourteen

I walked out of the cabin early in the morning, my hands reaching up and meeting the edges of my hat, tucking all renegade strands of hair into the rim.

I noticed that it was barely dawn, the men were asleep, and the only signs of life were that of the birds.

As I walked out onto the dirt, I steered away from the bridge over the river. My legs were sore and tired, my eyes didn't want to stay open, and renegade strands of hair kept falling out of the rim of my hat.

Last night was troublesome, tiring, and stressful. It was my third raid in the last two weeks; It always worked out fine in the end, but raiding was far more stressing than I had anticipated.

I walked lazily to the opposite side of the river, a place I'd seen frequently. I used this path to reach the area of the river that was most secluded, where I would bathe in the night. I stopped next to a tree, watching out over the lake as the trees blew in the wind.

I inhaled, closing my eyes and taking in as much air as I could, knowing that this morning would be the last of my peace for the day. Robin had specifically informed me that my unit would be setting up another post northwestward of the camp.

"You ready?" A voice broke through my daydreaming. I opened my eyes, exhaling the breath I'd taken in.

"Aye." I turned around, knives neatly tucked in my right boot and on my hip.

My eyes lingered on the slow waters before they landed on his tired face, another bruise forming just above his collarbone: another reminder of how hard rich men fought for their wealth.

"Feeling okay?" I asked, nodding to his collarbone.

Enders nodded, a hard look on his face. "Aye."

I studied him for a moment longer before casting my eyes to the ground as I walked past him and toward the camp's center to meet with the others, Enders following in suit.

When Enders and I found them, Elwin and Reggie sat around a fresh fire, chewing on their breakfast, a luxury that I didn't have the heart to eat.

"Reggie, Elwin," I greeted them, hearing their grunting in response. Reggie was eager and chewed happily on his piece of jerky. He'd enjoyed their raids, mentioning to me on their last that it was much better than training with Robin. I knew his potential, and after seeing him in a real battle, was happy that Robin had placed him in my unit.

Elwin, on the other hand, sat slumped against a log, chewing on his jerky, tiredly and slowly. His every movement screamed his taxation and exhaustion. Candor and Rawley sat back to back on the ground, using each other as a support to get a few more minutes of sleep. I didn't have the heart to wake them, so when I spoke, it was quiet.

"We're leaving to set up our post in ten minutes." I said, looking down at them.

Reggie nodded eagerly, jerky hanging happily out of the corner of his mouth. Elwin blinked sadly, his eyes unwilling to respond any more than that.

I sighed, looking to Enders who had grabbed a small piece of jerky and began eating it. "Enders," I addressed him, watching as he looked up, his hair swinging in his eyes at the movement. My heart skipped a beat at the sight. "Let's go talk to Hood."

Enders looked down at the food in his hand. "I'm eating."

I snorted, suppressing a chuckle. "Take it with you." I demanded, nodding in the direction of Robin's cabin.

Enders sighed, walking next to me as we made our way through camp. Some of the people were just getting started for the day. There were some women doing laundry, some men tending to the small stable on the other end of the town.

The silence was stiff, as it normally was with Enders. He looked too preoccupied with his food to really care, though.

I walked up a small set of stairs and raised my hand to knock on one of the cabin doors.

Robin Hood answered the door within seconds. "Aye?" He answered, tired eyes meeting my own. His scruffy jaw hadn't been trimmed yet and his eyes were red and dark as if he'd been up all night.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "We are leaving to the out-post. You instructed that we start early."

Robin nodded, raising a hand to wipe his eyes. "Right, that I did." He stepped aside, motioning with his hand, "come in."

I walked in first, standing still in the center of the small cabin, Enders following and continuing to the other end of the room. He still chewed on a small piece of jerky.

I noticed that Enders stared at the items on the tables and nightstands on the far wall. To her, it looked to be stacks of papers and letters. I briefly wondered if he was sending out more letters for help like he had sent to my father. I pushed the thought away and forced my eyes to Robin Hood.

"Right," Robin said, walking to the table at the center of his cabin. "You're going northwest to the main road. It will take you until the sun sits high, but the goods will be worth it." He said, picking up one paper. "We were informed of a cargo shipment coming through. It's said that it belongs to the king – or at least it's going to the king."

I raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like it'll be heavily guarded."

"From the information we've gathered, it seems that they're not too concerned about the contents." Robin explained looking through the pile of letters he had littered on the table.

"If it's unimportant, why are you trying so hard to retrieve it?" Enders asked. There was a certain degree of malice in his voice; so much so that I was taken aback by it.

Robin sighed, "Enders, the items that they're carrying are well over enough to feed the villages surrounding the forest. The cargo could support Edwinstowe alone for four months – never mind all the other starving villages. Once we get their money and treasures, we can disburse it around to help the hardworking families that are being taken advantage of. The knights and King Wesley may not care much about this stuff, but it would benefit so many people in the villages as far as Barnsdale."

I nodded, finally understanding. Barnsdale was important to Robin. My father had told me several times that Robin had settled there at one point and had loved it dearly.

Shaking myself out of the thought, I said: "Aye, but that means higher taxes for the people."

"Not to mention that this supposed cargo sounds like a trap." Enders chimed in, crossing his arms over his chest. I turned my eyes to him. I caught his eyes narrow in on Robin. I could almost feel the anger radiating from him.

I raised an eyebrow at him and when his eyes bounced onto mine, I saw him deliberately draw the anger back.

That's not strange at all, I thought sarcastically.

"It seems like a stretch for them to go out of their way to capture one or two outlaws." Robin said, looking over the papers in his hands.

"The king knows how greedy the outlaws are," Enders came forward, placing his hands on the table. "They know that you'll send a sizable team to find them and steal their treasures if the risks aren't too high."

I stepped forward, placing myself between Robin and Enders. "Enders is right. This seems like a ploy. If they make you believe that there are not many men patrolling the goods, they know you'll send someone to seize it," I said. "This sounds like fake information to draw out some outlaws."

Robin sighed, looking up from his letters. "Some risks are worth taking."

Enders huffed, turning his eyes to the side and giving an angry shake of his head.

"Robin, this isn't a good idea." I said, sighing.

Robin studied me. "Henry, this is my camp and you'll do as I say if you want to be here." His voice was stern, authoritative, and stubborn.

There was no reasoning with him.

I would bet my life that he's settled his family in Barnsdale and he was desperate to deliver goods there. I couldn't exactly blame him.

I nodded, keeping my eyes even and on Robin. "As you say."

I turned my back and walked out of the building, following Enders down the cabin steps.

"We're really going to do this?" Enders asked, his hands balled into fists and his eyebrows knitted. He watched me as we strode toward Elwin and Reggie.

"We don't have a choice. The raid will go as planned." I said.

*~*~*

I stared at the forest ahead of me. The wind blew quietly, the trees swaying back and forth with the breeze. I closed my eyes and felt the pit of my stomach knot itself up.

Something wasn't quite right; that much I knew. I couldn't pinpoint exactly what was wrong, but I knew something was off.

The details of this task were just too cloudy and muddy. It was like my thoughts couldn't create a clear picture of it in my head.

My eyebrows knitted together as I sent up a quick prayer.

"Henry," Elwin's voice rang behind me. The leaves crunched under his boots as he approached me. "We're ready to head out."

I nodded, keeping my eyes closed and taking in a deep breath. "Aye. Let's go."

*~*~*

"You wait until the king hears of this!" A monk yelled out as I tied his arms behind his back and around a tree.

I walked around to his front and looked at him, an eyebrow raised and fake laughter on the edge of my voice. "Oh yeah? What will he do? Send more goods?" I shoved a loose piece of fabric into his mouth.

I turned away from the struggling man and walked to Enders, who held another monk at arrow-point while Reggie tied the monks' arms behind a tree.

"Where're the others?" I whispered to Enders as I scanned the forest.

"The trees." Enders whispered back to me.

I nodded my head and scanned the horizon again. A renegade boot stuck out of a treetop. It was enough to ease my nerves, and I knew the two other men weren't far off.

As soon as Reggie finished stuffing a rag in the monk's mouth, Enders lowered his bow and placed the arrow back into his quiver.

I looked to Reggie as Enders walked past me and toward the treasures. "Go join Rawley."

Reggie nodded turning and rushing off to get into an advantageous position.

I approached Enders as he knelt, looking through the contents of the wagon. I picked up an old, mostly dented cup. "Not much of any value." I said.

"No, but it does the trick."

Snapping my eyes up the voice in front of me, I realized that instant what had happened: we'd been set up.

I slowly lifted my eyes to see the man standing just before us. Carefully, I rose myself to stand and looked him over. He was tall; maybe a foot taller than me. His dark hair and eyes accented his wicked voice. His uniform was one of the royal army. A deep pink mark ran alongside his face, and from what I knew, it was a scar given to him by Robin Hood himself – the closest the outlaws had ever gotten to killing the man.

I would recognize this man anywhere, and I'd be lying if I said my blood didn't run cold: The Sheriff of Nottingham.

"We don't want any trouble," I said, my hands floating in the air in front of me.

Enders, I noticed, had also stood and had started surveying the area around him.

"You don't want any trouble?" The man asked, and then laughed, his eyes lighting up like a child finding his lost favorite toy. "You outlaws always cause problems, always cause mischief, always become trouble." The man had a smile on the edge of his lips; they twitched joyously with every word.

The man took two steps forward, six other men coming out from his left and right sides; three on each side.

My eyes widened, my pulse sped up, and I felt fear rise from my toes and spread throughout my limbs.

I kept my eyes as even as I could, but there was only so much panic I could cover up. I was a deer before a hunter. I glanced behind me, seeing an opening.

"Have we met?" I asked, taking a small, insignificant step backward.

"Have we met?" The Sheriff repeated calmly. "I don't believe we have. I am Allyn Hall, Sheriff of Nottingham."

I felt my cheeks flush red with panic, my veins becoming ice.

"So, what happens now?" I asked Allyn, taking another small shuffle back.

Enders looked in my direction. He saw the step I took. He glanced backward and knew what I was doing. He took a small, insignificant step backward just as I had done.

"What happens now?" The menacing man mocked. "What happens is that you'll tell me where the Outlaw camp is and we'll let you keep your lives, albeit without limbs." He smiled savagely – a smile that made my skin crawl.

I nodded, taking another step backward. Enders followed in suit. "What if we don't tell you a damn thing?" I wished that my voice didn't falter as much as it had.

Allyn Hall pulled out his sword and let the sunlight bounce off the metallic blade. "Well," He started, making a show of its sharpness. "You won't be able to steal goods from the good men of England anymore."

"Oh yeah?" I asked, raising an eyebrow and taking another step backward. My voice was a little shakier with every passing second.

The man was getting arrogant; so much so, that he hadn't noticed how far away Enders and I had gotten from him. "If you surrender, we will consider a compromise."

"Here's the funny thing about Outlaws," Enders said, his voice remarkably confident. "We never let anyone take us alive." He turned around and sprinted off as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

I followed his lead, barely keeping up with him as my legs wobbled back and forth. As my legs took me away, I heard whizzing arrows, but I couldn't tell if the arrows were fired by my team or by the soldiers.

I briefly worried about Elwin, Reggie, Candor, and Rawley, but now I had bigger problems.

We dodged every tree branch and twig, bobbing and weaving in different directions.

"Left!" My voice may have been shaky, but my legs had become just a little bit sturdier under me. We turned and rounded a tree, hearing the faint barking of a man yelling out orders. Some far-off crunching leaves and twigs breaking made me cringe and run faster, but we had gotten some ground on the men behind us.

We ran in silence, still hearing faint pitter-pattering of the soldiers far off in the distance.

I wasn't sure how long we ran exactly, but I knew it had been at least an hour since we had left the Sheriff behind, and even though some time had passed, I still felt dread into the far reaches of my soul. I felt like we'd been running for hours, though.

My legs felt wobbly under me as I pushed myself to the point where I could no longer move. I pushed a little further, ensuring that I could no longer hear the barking cries of my enemies.

Enders slowed alongside me, looking around nervously. His head snapped from left to right as he tried to look in every direction around us. Placing both hands on his hips, he heaved in breaths, eyebrows scrunched at me. "We need to head back and find the others soon."

I shook my head, both hands on my hips as well and my breathing so labored that it made me want to heave. I stared up at the spots of sky I could see through the arching tree branches. "We can't do that. They're smart men. They'll keep each other alive. Reggie is remarkable with combat; Candor is ridiculously fast; and Rawley and Elwin are fantastic archers." I was trying to convince myself more than him. "It's already been too long anyway. If they were going to get caught, they'd be captive by now."

"They were hiding right there where we raided that caravan. The sheriff surely knows they're in the trees." He took a step toward me.

I almost stepped back in instinct, but instead I lowered my eyes and met his. "There were only five of them, Enders, and our men had the advantage of height."

Enders looked at me, his eyebrows knitted together. Rage and fear were clear on the edge of his voice. "So, we're just going to leave them there? If you don't give a damn about them, then what about us, Henry?! We won't survive out here!"

I took one look at his angered expression and felt anger boiling up my spine and explode in my soul. My breath caught as I shoved him as hard as I could – and I was a little impressed by how hard that was. "This is my excursion. This is my team. I say we go forward, so that is exactly what we'll do." My voice was a harsh whisper. He didn't move to come back toward me and instead stared at me with what looked like hatred and resentment.

I couldn't blame him. We hadn't gotten along in the first place and in only a manner of months I'd gone from his subordinate to his leader.

Enders nodded once, angrily looking off in the other direction. "Yeah? And when your excursion fails, and your team falls apart, it'll be your fault." Enders said, his eyes set off to his right, his jaw clenching tightly. "But, whatever you say, Leader McBride."

I nodded my head. "That's fine. As long as you understand my orders." I moved backward, looking around the forest we were in.

Everything was quiet. There was a peacefulness about the small clearing that calmed my still racing nerves. I looked through a break in the trees ahead and saw the limestone gorge that stood towering over the clear waters at its base.

"Come on," I said, nudging his arm a bit before heading off in the direction. "If we can get to the top of that cliff, we can find how far we've veered from the cargo site."

Enders followed wordlessly behind me, frustrated and lost.

The silence was deafening as we crossed a mile of forestry.

Then another mile passed.

And another.

The sun that was once so very high in the sky had lowered and night was closing in around us.

Then the sun was gone altogether and the moon rose, leaving me with a bruised ego and crumbling hopes.

I took a moment to enjoy the look of the moon from this deep into the wilderness. Sure, I was lost, but my father had mentioned the north star before.

The star-gazing would have been awe-inspiring if I hadn't been caught off-guard by the shout behind me.

"Stop right there!" The unfamiliar voice shook my soul.

I turned around and looked to the person calling out. It was a man in lowly soldier attire, his arm outstretched toward us, a sword pulled out and at ready.

"Run!" I shouted to Enders.

We bolted away from the men. I was just two or three paces ahead of Enders as we barreled down the forestry, hopping and jumping over littered branches and shrubs.

There were soldiers coming up on my right side, and as I turned to my left, I noticed new soldiers closing in on my left. My heart fluttered with madness.

How could I have been so stupid?

I was going to die and my father would have to spend the next ten years running away from the memory of his disappointing daughter.

Then there was Enders who only had his mother left. What would she think? That he was a troublemaker or that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time?

So many thoughts ran through my head as I sprinted forward.

At the precise moment that I was certain I wouldn't be able to make it out of this alive, I broke through a line of trees and saw the cliff's edge in a small clearing.

The closer I got, the bigger it seemed.

My heart skidded to a crushing halt when I got close enough to the cliff's edge to realize that we'd made it to the gorge, but this thing was way more massive than I'd thought it had been.

The sight of a steep bluff took me by surprise. My heart froze and my eyes widened at the gargantuan canyon. There must have been an uncountable amount of water sitting in there, but I could barely see it in the thick cover of night.

Fear and panic rose in my chest as no escape plans came to mind.

The roaring voices echoed loudly in my ears. My blood seemed to freeze like water on a cold winter's morning.

The sound of barking orders and soldiers' stomping feet shook the ground beneath me. I stared, wide-eyed at the darkness over the edge of the cliff.

In my panic, I couldn't move, and just when I was going to turn around and bargain with the men for our lives, a hand grabbed my upper arm and propelled me forward.

I watched Enders as he jumped over the edge of the canyon, pulling me over with him. He free-fell away from me.

I didn't even have time to gasp, time to scream, time to think.

It was quick and effortless, but the last thing I felt just before I plummeted into the lake below was the feeling of the rushing wind blowing through my hair.

### Chapter Fifteen

I erupted from the water with a loud squeal of an inhale. Struggling to keep my head above the water, I turned from my left to my right, seeing nothing but darkness and open water. When I squinted around, I hardly noticed the shore in front of me, but I paid no mind.

Enders was around here somewhere, and if I couldn't see him, that meant he was under water.

I panicked, treading water, pushing to my left and trying to see into the murky depths and then to my right.

As if he could feel my worry, he burst forth from the water with a wheeze and looked around in a daze.

"Enders!" I squeaked, my voice hoarse with fear and relief. I swam toward him, grabbing hold of his arm as I came close.

His eyes rolled around in his head as he attempted to look around.

"Enders?" I kicked my legs to keep me above the water and took a fistful of his shirt to keep him from falling under as well. "Hey, stay with me."

"I'm fine." He grunted in an almost inaudible whisper.

"Sure, you are. It's not like you flung yourself over a cliff."

He intentionally rolled his eyes that time. "You want to help me or mock me?"

I let out what was supposed to be a chuckle of relief but it sounded more like a stifled cry. Lifting his arm at the wrist, I draped it over my shoulders. Kicking toward the shore, I managed to get us there without taking in more than three gulps of water.

When we got to the shallow part of the lake, he managed to stand up, his head bowed and looking down at the water. My arm wrapped around his back and clutched to his side while his arm sat draped over my shoulders, his hand hanging limply over my clavicle.

Then he stopped completely, tugging me back with him.

Snapping my head to look at him, I quirked an eyebrow. "What?"

I felt his arm shift back and his fingers graze over my clavicle, his head slowly turning to where his fingers sat holding something in-between his fingers.

My hair.

Horror dawned on me when I realized that I'd completely forgotten about the hat when I was searching for Enders.

He stepped away from me, bending down to pick something out of the water: my hat.

Holding it out to me, he stared at me like he'd never seen me before.

I took it from his hand, casting my eyes down at the water instead of the gaze he was giving me. Clearing my throat, I muttered a quiet 'thank you.'

"This is why you wear the hat all the time?"

I shrugged, peaking up at him from under my eyelashes. "Aye."

I wasn't completely sure if he'd caught me or thought I was a man who preferred long hair. It wasn't common, but it did happen.

I decided to keep fighting and try to make him believe I was a man – even with the long, feminine hair. I mustered my best male voice and muttered: "It draws a lot of attention."

He quirked an eyebrow at me, tired eyes lowering into slits. "Then, why keep it?"

I shrugged. "I like it." Looking out over the shore, I shoved the hat over my head and tucked every wet strand of hair under the brim. "Come on, we can make a fire over there and dry up."

He followed me silently, our feet making wet sloshing noises as we moved onto the shore.

I collapsed on the grass, trying my best to be nonchalant as I stretched out and let myself rest. In my head, I thought about every single choice I'd made that got me to this situation. I felt my body fatigue from exhaustion, but my mind was racing. Half of me didn't even care that I had potentially been discovered; Enders didn't seem particularly convinced with my explanation of my hair, but what else could I have said?

Actually, I could have probably said a few things that made a lot more sense.

I mean, we were ambushed and then chased. There was a lot going on and my brain was too worried about getting out of the water to care about much else.

I remembered that I was going to bargain with the soldiers, to tell them to take me as a captive in exchange for Enders' freedom. Then, with no warning, Enders had grabbed me and thrown us over the edge of the cliff. I'd almost been found out, and if that had happened I knew my father would have been disappointed in what I had done.

"You okay, Henry?" Enders asked, breaking through my daze. His eyebrow sat arched over his eyes, staring at me with actual concern rather than contempt. That was unusual, but I brushed it off as being a side-effect of almost dying together.

My eyes betrayed my voice: distant with a hint of worry. "Aye," I offered a nod.

"That was close," Enders paused, trying to read my facial expressions. He sat beside me. "They almost got us."

I nodded in agreement. "Aye, they did."

Silence occupied the space between us again.

"It's got to be the middle of the night. We should find somewhere to camp until the sun comes up." I was trying to pull myself together, to reassemble the pieces I'd almost lost.

Enders nodded, rubbing his hands on his pants before standing up. "Come on." He said, turning his back and taking several steps toward the water again. "Robin Hood Cave is just back up the cliff. The men went to the right. If we go left, we can make it to the cave in less than an hour's time."

I groaned. "We've got to swim there?"

He turned around, an amused smirk on his lips. "Yea, but only for a minute or two."

I padded to Enders' side, and nodded for him to go first.

Rolling his eyes, he dove into the water and waited for me when he came up for air. Slicking his hair back he gestured for me to follow.

I hesitated for a moment, but forced myself to go back into the dark water and follow him before we made too much noise and roused suspicion of any lurking soldiers.

We swam making as little noise as possible.

Enders climbed onto the rocks at the opposite edge of the water and turned to help me get out of the chilled ravine. "Scared of water, McBride?"

I huffed a little, grabbing his extended forearm and heaving myself up. "Is it irrational to be a little worried about murky waters in the middle of the night?"

"I suppose not," Enders chuckled.

I quirked an eyebrow at him, keeping next to him as we climbed up some rocks. "That's the third time you've let out some form of amusement in the last hour."

He laughed. "You've been counting."

"It's unusual. I don't know if you forgot, but we don't like each other very much." I gripped another rock and pulled myself up.

"Eh," He said, lifting and bringing himself to stand on the next level of rocks. "I wouldn't say we don't like each other."

I snorted. "I wouldn't say that we get along."

He shrugged at that. "Aye. Me either."

I recoiled a bit, but he didn't see me. He sounded almost solemn or concerned about our dislike for each other and there was this feeling in the pit of stomach that didn't want him to feel that way. I couldn't stop myself from saying: "We make a pretty good team though."

"That we do, McBride." He flashed me a grin. It was sharp and pearly, showing all his white teeth.

My heart fluttered at his genuinely happy expression. I tried to quell the feeling by thinking about how to throw a blade to hit the target. I ran through Robin's exercises in my head, trying to forget about that smile. This was neither the time nor the place for that.

After twenty minutes, I leaned an inch closer to him when we were almost up one of the huge piles of rocks leading to a cave. "How did you know these caves were here?"

Enders shrugged. "The tales. I can read rather proficiently – my mother was from a noble family so she taught me when I was young. One of the tales mentions Creswell Crags and the Robin Hood Cave. I knew where I was the second I saw the cliffs."

I frowned. "You didn't say anything."

Enders almost laughed. "Aye, well, when we were being chased down by the Sheriff of Nottingham and his soldiers, I wasn't thinking about announcing that I knew where we were."

"Ah," I nodded. "Good point."

"You go ahead and sit down, I'll grab some fire wood." Enders stood on a rock outside the cave.

I snorted. "Let's get some rest and make a fire in the morrow."

Enders nonchalantly shrugged one shoulder. "If you're alright sleeping in wet clothes and stripping tomorrow while we wait for them to dry, we can do that. But, I'd like to have my clothes dry while I sleep."

My cheeks burned and I thanked God that it was too dark to tell. "Right. We should grab some wood now."

"I'll be back in ten minutes." Enders backed away.

"I'll go with you." I started to follow him but he shook his head.

"It would be faster if I went alone. You could prepare the rocks in a circle?"

I nodded, hesitant at first. "Alright..."

"Great." Enders started down the pile of rocks again.

"Hode," I called him before he left.

He turned back to face me.

I found myself speechless for a moment as I looked at him. He was handsome, I'd realized that before, but now I was left struck by him, by everything about him. He'd managed to save my life by pulling me over and he wasn't at all shaken by it.

"Uh," I struggled to get the words out. "Thank you for pulling me over the edge. I wouldn't have made it."

Enders nodded, offering a small smile. "You would have done the same for me."

I nodded at him before he turned his back and entered the darkness of the forest.

*~*~*

It hadn't taken long for Enders to come back with a large stack of acceptable firewood. After a while, Enders had managed to start a well-set fire that would keep us warm throughout most of the night without drawing too much attention with its smoke.

I feared the soldiers might find us during the night, but we had no choice. If we didn't have a fire, we risked getting sick over the chilly night and if we got sick, we'd never make it back to camp.

While gathering stones to make a circle for a fire, I had spotted a nearby fruit bush full of edible berries and gathered as many as my make-shift shirt-pouch could carry.

"How long do you think it will take to get back to camp?" Enders asked, munching on a berry he held in his palm.

I shrugged. I tried to hide the apprehension that had taken up residence in my chest. "I'd guess a few hours walk maybe. We're not too far, but we ventured a little farther than we were supposed to."

Enders nodded. "Yeah, sounds about right."

I munched on berries that I held in my hand as I laid my back on the limestone, looking up at the drawing on the cave walls, the fire's light illuminating the air around me.

Enders looked over at me, watching as I gazed at the drawings. "Why did you decide to leave home for this?"

I reluctantly turned my attention to him. He ate the berries with knitted eyebrows, watching me with these foreign eyes. Why was he looking at me like that?

I shrugged at first. "There were a few reasons. I thought I could do some good here. I didn't belong in Dexthorpe anyway." I answered, removing my eyes from him and looking back to the drawings.

I briefly wondered who drew those pictures.

Enders nodded, "Did your father force you to come or was it your decision?" he said, pausing to chew a berry.

I moved my free arm under my head. "It was my decision."

Enders let the silence fill the air between them before asking another question. "Does he know where you are?"

My body stiffened. I stretched, trying to cover up the reaction, but I knew Enders had noticed it. "He knows I'm away from home." I answered.

"So, he doesn't know you're in Sherwood?" Enders asked again. He was prodding for answers, and he was doing it shamelessly.

I shrugged, trying to make the movement look nonchalant and normal, but it came out tensed and rigid. "I'm under the conviction that he has an idea."

Enders studied me for a moment before looking down at the berries in his hand.

I hadn't relaxed. My father was a touchy subject. I still felt the sting of betrayal over him engaging me to another without my knowledge or acceptance.

Without hesitation, I sat up and faced Enders from the other end of the fire. "I came to take my father's place here. I know I'm not nearly as useful as he is but my father is getting along in society. I was not. I did not belong in Dexthorpe. It was bad for me and I was bad for it. Everyone is better off with me here." I offered some of my heart. I knew I'd regret this later, for seeming so weak and vulnerable, but for now, I trusted Enders. We weren't friends, but he was an ally I could depend on. In fact, I wanted to deny it, and I had for my entire stay in Sherwood, but Enders made my heart melt and my brain freeze.

Enders kept his eyes even as he looked at me. I felt self-conscious under his stare. "That's quite a sacrifice. Don't you want a family instead of a war?"

I nodded and looked toward Enders. "I could marry after this is over, but no one in my village wanted me anyway."

Enders raised an eyebrow. "Your father hasn't arranged a wife for you?"

I laughed at the true ridiculousness of the question. "No," I answered. "The women in my village are not welcoming of my behavior."

Enders let his chuckle die, listening to my laugh, which I'd tried to cover with a masculine tone. The sound made him freeze.

"What is Harlow like?" He asked, growing almost solemn.

I sighed, certain I didn't want to talk about this. "What exactly do you mean?"

Enders shrugged, "What does she do? How does she act?"

I shrugged. "She's stubborn. She argues with our father all the time. She thinks she knows what's best for everyone even though she doesn't. She's," I sighed and kept my eyes pointed toward cave wall, "she's a handful."

I felt heaviness in my heart. The townspeople had described me this way; this is what I was.

"You describe her so harshly."

"She's a harsh woman. She has her reasons, but..." I trailed, shrugging.

Silence fell as we ate our berries and listened to the world around us. Crickets sounded around us in the woods. The birds had quieted down and started to go to their nests for the night.

"What reasons?" He asked, his voice quiet, mesmerized by the conversation of his soon-to-be wife.

I gave an incredulous laugh before looking down at my hands in my lap. Should I mention it to him? It was the world's worst kept secret. In fact, on the first day I arrived in Sherwood, Aldridge mentioned it. I wasn't certain Robin knew, but I wouldn't doubt that he and his original band of Merry Men knew too.

"Remember when I told you about the details missing from Little John and The Cook?"

Enders immediately placed his eyes on me. "Aye."

I popped a few more berries into my mouth. "There's one detail I neglected to mention."

Enders shifted to a more comfortable, upright position, his eyes on me the entire time. "Why didn't you mention it?"

I eyed the berries in my palm. "It's a dangerous secret, but you once told me that you'd figure out what I was hiding." I paused, chewing on a berry to stall for another moment. "This is one of those things."

"One of?" He arched an eyebrow at me.

"I won't spill all my secrets, Hode." I offered a small smile. "If you are truly interested in my sister, this is something you need to know beforehand."

Enders nodded for me to continue.

"I've never told anyone this part of the story, so this needs to be kept between you and I."

"Aye." Enders agreed instantly.

"The Cook was picked up by King Wesley and taken in. He'd spent most of his young years serving the sheriff." I started, "So, Little John comes into the story and winds up getting into a fight with him. The stories that people always tell say that the cook agreed to come with Little John and set up the sheriff. The truth is that the cook was reluctant to leave. He had refused the offer, but within a week had ran off in pursuit of Little John and the outlaws."

"Why did he want to stay?" Enders asked, propping one arm up onto his kneecap.

I sighed, receiving an odd look from Enders. "My father lived in the castle and made food for the nobles. He was often in contact with Princess Katherine of England," I paused, "and she fell in love with him."

I looked up at the sky. "It was forbidden for the two of them to be together, obviously." I rolled my eyes. "But, when Princess Katherine became pregnant, it was a problem for everyone involved."

Enders let his jaw hang ajar.

"Princess Katherine was executed by King Wesley, her own father, after the birth of the child. The cook came back to the castle, rescued the infant, and ran off with the babe."

Enders stiffened, felt his jaw dropping as it completely dawned on him what I was going to say.

I sighed and lifted my eyes to meet his. "Harlow's mother was Princess Katherine."

Enders sat still, staring at me with the most ridiculously dumbfounded expression. "That makes her..."

"Royalty. She is King Wesley's granddaughter."

### Chapter Sixteen

Enders had his eyebrows knitted together, leaning forward just a bit. "Her mother was the princess?"

"Aye, she was." I sighed, taking a few berries and throwing them into my mouth. "Princess Katherine of the Plantagenet family."

"And your father fell in love with her?" Enders asked again.

I swallowed my berried and cocked my head at him. "Were you listening at all?"

I saw the desire to laugh written on his face, but the chuckle caught in his throat and became a wheeze instead. He looked almost sickened. "I knew she was noble, or that her blood was special at least, but I had no idea that she..."

"Has royal blood? Aye." I finished, popping a few more berries into my mouth. I took one more look at him before laying back down on the limestone. "It's been a long time since I've spoken about it. My father didn't even tell me until I was sixteen years old."

"Why doesn't she tell anybody?" Enders asked, his shock wearing off and slight irritation taking its place.

"Is she supposed to run around telling her lineage to all who have ears? That would have her killed in no time." I chuckled at the comment. Growing serious, I added, "The man killed his own daughter, Enders. He'd have no qualms killing my sister."

Enders nodded, understanding dawning on him. Then, I watched as he ran through the story in his head again.

Other than my whole actually-being-a-woman thing, I'd been quite honest with everyone about myself. He had no reason to question the authenticity of my story, right?

"So, what does this mean – her blood? Does that mean your family wants to overthrow Wesley or organize a revolution?"

I let out a sarcastic laugh. "Even if that were possible, I wouldn't want to do it."

"Why not?" Enders popped two berries into his mouth and fixed his eyes on me.

"That would be a death sentence for everyone." I said, staring straight at the ceiling above my head, letting my eyes roam over pictures scratched into the limestone.

"That it would be." Enders said, nodding. Things were quiet for a moment before Enders spoke again, "So, is Harlow looking to avenge her mother's death?"

I paused my chewing for a moment and sat up, looking anywhere but him until I was ready to answer. I calmly spoke, "The king has wronged many people, and that's a terrible tragedy, but revenge is not on my sister's agenda – although she wouldn't oppose the idea of his death. Princess Katherine is long gone by his hand and my sister would have been as well, if it hadn't been for our father. My family is not interested in revenge." I said, sternly. I sighed, "I never wanted to be tied up in this – royal feuds, outlawry, Robin Hood – but I have only done what I believed needed to be done. I felt that I needed to leave Dexthorpe and come here in my father's place, so I did. Harlow feels the need to keep her head down and not cause trouble, so that's what she's doing." I turned my eyes to Enders. "No one else needs to lose their lives."

We sat in silence for a few moments.

"That's a very noble cause – coming in your father's place." Enders complimented me. "I'm sure he would be proud of what you've done here."

I shook my head. "It was selfish. I didn't do it for him. I did it for me."

Enders looked down at the berries in his palm. "Why?"

I looked at him, eying him for a moment before taking in a deep breath. "I have a question of my own." I tried to suppress the anger bubbling in my chest. "Why would my father engage Harlow to you? He always told us that she was unavailable because of her blood and yet he's had this arranged since her birth."

Enders sat still, staring at me like I'd offended him. "Do you think I'm not good enough?"

I scoffed. "I don't see what makes you good enough." I leaned closer, whispering, "why would my father choose you over everyone else?"

He leaned forward like I had and stared at me, evenly, offended. "That's none of your concern."

"It absolutely is my concern." I said, trying to make my case and trying to find answers as to how my father could have lied to me about my marriage status this whole time. "She is my sister."

"And, she will be my wife." Enders growled. "That means I outrank you when it comes to her."

"Not until she becomes your wife," I snarled back at him. "And, I will die before I let that happen."

Enders let his eyes roam over my face and then paused on my eyes. "Why do you hate me so much?"

I felt a pang of guilt and shame stab my soul, and I knew he could read it on my face by the way his eyes faltered on mine. But, I steeled myself and recaptured the hatred that was fleeting from my heart. My father had lied to me, Enders was betrothed to me, and I wasn't safe to be me. Where did that leave things?

"Let's get some sleep before we have to set out in the morrow." I suggested, lying down on the limestone, my arms folding under my head and my eyes drifting closed.

*~*~*

Enders and I had awoken early, although I could tell Enders was exhausted. I slept well – only because I'd been so tired – and I'd basically been dead to the world. Oddly enough, Enders' presence made it easier to sleep – although that could have been just because I wasn't alone.

Usually I woke up several times a night, nervous about being found out somehow, but it was refreshing to have a decent night's sleep. Maybe it was because I trusted Enders enough to sleep, and there weren't as many potentially wandering eyes to worry about.

"Ready?" Enders asked from the other side of a dying fire as he affixed a knife onto his belt loop. His fingers worked deftly at the knife, and I caught myself staring at his face, his composure – at him.

I felt my lungs squeeze. I couldn't take in any more air and the stale oxygen that sat in my body refused to leave. My eyes lingered on him and refused to move away. It wasn't often that I was able to steal fleeting glances, but here? There was no one for miles, which meant I could stare all I wanted as long as he didn't catch me in the act.

As soon as I realized what I was doing, I snapped my eyes to his face for a moment and wanted to throw myself into the water and never get up. The faintest smirk was on his face and he eyed me with a curious expression.

Darting my eyes away from him, I tried to preoccupy myself with anything else. I chose a branch on the ground. I cleared my throat, bending to pick it up. The most awkward blush crept onto my cheeks, and I started picking away parts of the wood in my hands.

"Aye. Are you ready?" I asked him, a little impressed with the tone and sound of my voice. I'd finally gotten to a point where I could disguise my voice without thinking about it. It just came out.

Thankfully.

He simply nodded, offering one "Aye."

I felt that maybe I was hallucinating, but I thought I heard a smile in his voice. I couldn't see his face because his head was tilted downward, but I would bet anything that he was smiling an arrogant smile.

I couldn't pinpoint why exactly.

Maybe he was super proud of his physique and thought I – as Henry, of course, – was jealous? Ugh, what an arrogant -

Oh, who was I kidding? If I were a man, I absolutely would be.

Shaking my head, I gestured for him to lead the way since he was the one who knew where we were and how to get home.

Home, I thought happily – because that's what Sherwood was now: home.

### Chapter Seventeen

We set out on our journey back to the Sherwood encampment shortly after the sun slipped over the horizon.

We walked in silence for twenty minutes before Enders started casual conversation, and that was exactly how we spent the rest of our morning.

I was thankful that he didn't appear to harbor any resentment at my apparent hatred of him and that he didn't bring it up at all. I knew that I had no interest in talking about it and it appeared that he shared the same sentiment.

I guessed we kept ourselves busy all morning before I heard strange noises in the distance.

I tensed up, listening.

"After that, my friends started calling me Enders instead of using my real name. The others weren't happy about the prank, though." Enders said, finishing off one of his stories.

Snap. Crunch.

"Wait," I said, slowing my step as I heard abnormal rustling dozens of paces ahead of us. I held out one hand in front him. Out of all his wonderful qualities, I found that I did fear his unpredictability.

"That's probably an animal," Enders said, eying me oddly and continuing forward.

I grabbed his arm and stopped him. I turned my eyes on him and shook my head once, definitively.

I didn't have the heart to tell him that I'd seen the king's men twenty minutes back and had turned in the opposite direction. "Stop," I commanded, capturing his attention. "Listen."

The abnormal sound immediately quieted.

"An animal," Enders whispered. He brushed past my hand and took two steps forward.

That's when the muffled voices sounded out throughout the forest.

My panic overrode my desire to say I told you so. I felt my arms start to tremble and my legs grow weak.

Enders stood wide-eyed, his irises scanning over treetops and forestry to find any sign of the sheriff's men.

I gently tugged on his arm and turned around, jogging in the opposite direction. I glanced behind me after a few minutes to ensure that Enders was following. As I did, I noticed in the trees, a figure pointing toward us in the distance behind Enders. We'd been spotted, and that idea completely horrified me.

Then the soldiers realized that their prey had spotted them and started shouting orders, instructions, and directions.

Two men broke away from the pointing figure and started after us. Enders glanced backward, catching a glimpse at the man, speeding up his pace, and sending himself forward. I followed his lead, breaking into a sprint.

I turned my attention back toward my front, and like a puppy left in a rainstorm, I whimpered in fear. I almost crashed into Enders as he stopped as abruptly as humanly possible.

Standing before me was the man who'd driven Enders and I off the cliff at the Robin Hood Cave: Allyn Hall, The Sheriff of Nottingham.

I stood behind Enders and stared at the man before us.

"Ahh," Allyn said, looking down at a blade in his hands. "I see we meet again, outlaws."

I let my mouth hang agape as I stared.

How did I let this happen?

"Where is the rest of your army?" Enders asked, clear anger gushing from his voice. Malice dripped from each word.

The sheriff shrugged, trying to act casual. "I let them have a day of rest." He smiled proudly as the sword glinted in the sunlight. He turned the blade back and forth. "I wanted to deal with you myself."

"Too bad you'll never get the chance." I felt the anger and fear flow through my veins. When I said my words, I tried to portray confidence, but I knew I was far too struck with horror for that.

The man made a tsk-tsk noise. "No man leaves without at least one reinforcement. I happened to bring two." He nodded to two men behind Enders and me.

They'd caught up quickly and I found that I was too focused on Allyn Hall to worry about them.

I contemplated telling them I was a woman and begging for our lives, but I was afraid of where that would lead. I'd also thought to tell them that I was the princess, and while they might believe me, I'd had a warrant over my head since my birth. Not to mention that all the others of Sherwood would have the same problem – a bounty on their head.

Nothing I could think of would bring us out of this situation; nothing except fighting for our lives. My palms were sweating and shaky at the thought.

"I'll give you one last chance to surrender," The man said, almost giggling with his blade in hand. He looked so enthusiastic to use it, the eagerness written all over his face. His blood-lust was so evident in his eyes that I considered that he may be out of his mind.

"Oh yeah?" I asked, pulling a knife out of my waistband. I chanced a glance at it, seeing the dirt and specks of debris that covered it's blade.

The man was just about to start speaking again when I spun backward and rammed the knife hard into one man's chest. Blood poured like a river, soaking my hands quickly, before I had a chance to pull away. I removed the knife and watched as Enders ran forward into Allyn Hall, his sword out and ready to attack.

I quickly turned my attention to the loud shouting of the man next to me, who looked upon his comrades' dead body at my feet. Wasting no time, I threw myself into him, preventing him from taking out his sword, and stabbed him hard in the jugular.

The violence numbed me for the moment.

The only thing I could do was make myself focus on the adrenaline pumping through my veins. It made my body feel alive even though my brain felt gone – dead – because of the madness of the bloodshed.

I tore my eyes from the bodies before me, and the disgusting guttural sounds of death. My attention was shifted to Enders and the scuffling, troublesome efforts that he was having with the dreaded, feared, arrogant Sheriff of Nottingham.

I didn't think twice before I slipped a throwing knife out of my boot and flung it as hard as I could toward the man, the blade whizzing in the air until it contacted with a sickening, wet thud. I'd managed to impale Allyn's right leg.

The guttural cry of pain was nothing compared to the look he gave me. The rage that engulfed Allyn's eyes made me want to curl in a ball and give up. It was disgustingly blood-thirsty and repulsively greedy for it.

Allyn stared down at the place the knife protruded from him skin and growled. He lifted his gaze and narrowed his eyes at me before raising his sword and slamming into the side of Enders head, rendering him dazed and confused.

Allyn Hall stalked toward me and – even though, I admittedly didn't have much fighting experience – I was frozen in dread. I felt it deep into my very soul.

When he reached me, he snatched the front of my shirt and slammed my back into the tree behind me. My head banged hard against the bark, sending an explosion of pain through my skull that reverberated through my teeth.

When my eyes focused again a moment later, Allyn was looking at me with a range of emotions that fleeted so fast, I couldn't pinpoint just one. There had been confusion, maybe a little guilt, understanding, and then absolute satisfaction.

"Oh," Allyn said, his voice drawing out, half from my disorientation and half from his discovery.

I didn't understand it at first, but when I had, I realized it was too late to fix it.

I felt the strands of my beautiful, dark amber hair slink down onto my shoulder and my knitted brown hat fall into the leaves on the grassy floor.

The horror in the pit of my stomach never left, but now I felt the full force of it as it gushed forward and found a permanent spot in my soul.

Then, there was rage.

Are you kidding me? This is how it ends?

"I see it now." Allyn Hall said, raising a hand to push back of some hair over my shoulder. "You're her. You're who he's been looking for."

Shaking his hand off me, I focused my terrified, enraged eyes on him.

Allyn eased his grip on my shirt and let me slump forward a bit, but didn't completely let go of me. "You look exactly like your mother did – stunning, really."

I felt like throwing up at the compliment, at the way he drawled it out, at the level of want in his eyes.

Trying to repress the fear I felt, I tried to glance at Enders, realizing that if we intended to survive this, we needed to work together. He was pushing himself off the tree, staring at me with hard eyes and lips that sat open in mild shock. His eyebrows were scrunched as he stared at my face. Then, when his eyes caught mine, it was like we were seeing each other for the first time.

My heart stuttered at the way he peered into my soul, like he was a man dying of thirst and I was the wineskin that held his precious water.

If we got out of this, there would be no denying that I was Harlow McBride – and then, I'd have to answer the consequences for my deceit.

Until then, however, we needed to survive.

Darting my eyes back to Allyn Hall, I snarled. "Respect my mother's memory."

There was a small rustling behind Allyn and it took all my resolve not to sigh in relief that Enders was moving in to deal more blows.

"She was such a beautiful thing. It was such a shame." Allyn said, a gleeful glint in his eye. "King Wesley will love this."

Without any further warning, he tossed me to the side, letting my body slide a few feet on the grass, letting me feel the pain of the landing spread through my shoulder and far into my limbs.

Every single part of my body ached, but my resolve strengthened little by little when I saw, as if in slow motion, Sheriff Allyn Hall's feet stomp toward where Enders stood, sword in hand, eyes blazing red with absolutely unrestrained fury.

Words were exchanged, and I couldn't exactly get the whole of it, but when Allyn laughed a giddy, eager laugh, I felt myself awaken a little more. My eyes could focus, but my body wouldn't move quite yet.

Then Enders attacked, sword drawing high and coming down hard where the Sheriff's head would have been had he not backed up.

Nottingham's sheriff was skilled and retaliated quickly.

Now, I understood why Robin Hood hadn't been able to eliminate Allyn Hall before.

He was good – great, even.

For every single blow that Enders dealt, Allyn had an appropriate reaction, fast timing, and even better accuracy.

Finally making it to my feet, which trembled uncontrollably under me, I took another blade from my boot – the last I had on me – and took a step forward.

The men shuffled back and forth, Enders having the upper hand for a second at a time, and Allyn having it for ten. Each gave the other cuts and scratches and matching wounds – as if they were playing a game of who could take the most pain from the other and still be left standing.

Then, Allyn managed to throw a good blow at Enders, so good that it knocked him breathlessly against a tree. Enders slumped against the bark, disoriented again for just a moment. He shook himself of the disorientation, and was just about to move in for another attack when Allyn pinned him still.

Allyn said something, and fury flared in Enders' eyes once more. Then, slowly Allyn poked the head of his broadsword into the flesh of Enders' stomach. Enders held his ground, pushing Allyn back, but unable to stop the groan of pain that tore from his throat.

Allyn laughed, let go of Enders, taunting him as Enders slumped against the tree again, aching and out of breath.

I trembled as I saw the mood on Allyn's face change. He was delighted in Enders pain one moment, and the next he was determined to deal a fatal blow.

The Sheriff, blood leaking out over his face and down his neck, held his sword in his hands, a twinkle in his eyes. More words were exchanged while Allyn recoiled the sword and was only a second or two from pushing it through Enders' abdomen.

All the while, I would be damned if I just sat and watched him die. I would not let another person die for my sake – especially not Enders when he had done so much for me – especially not Enders when he had done so much for me.

An energy I'd never felt before filled me and I bolted the few steps until I slammed against Enders' chest, pushed myself up, and let my right hand sit firm on the bark next to his head. I found my face just inches from Enders' nose, my hair sweeping forward over my shoulder and falling in my face.

I'd never been this close to any other person in my entire life, and I had a thankful thought that if I was going to die, at least I had that comfort going for me.

The strength in my arm gave out before I registered that the sword had made contact, my body pressing firmly against his, making him step to the right just a little bit. This – I'd think on later – was the only reason he hadn't been stabbed as well.

He placed his hands carefully on my sides, watching in panic as my face contorted in shock and pain.

I kept my eyes on his when all the feeling in my body came crashing in around me.

I couldn't move. I felt like I couldn't breathe.

As I looked downward, I saw the sword protruding from my body and poking gently into the oak tree Enders had been pressed against. I thanked God that he'd stepped just a bit to the side.

Tears of indescribable pain welled up under my thick eyelashes.

Enders' face twisted from shock to rage in record time. I read no pain in his eyes.

He's not hurt. Good.

My thoughts were so delirious and bland. My emotions were oddly absent. I felt nothing but the physical pain of the blade in my skin and flesh.

My thoughts trailed slowly to my father and how much I'd disappointed him. I regretted everything I'd done to upset him, but this; this I did not regret.

Not even for a single second.

I looked back up to Enders as the sword was ripped from my body. His panicked, angry eyes staring sadly into my own did nothing to comfort me.

My body began to give up. My feet and legs trembled to the point of collapse. I fell to the ground, away from Enders' warm body and into the crunchy grass beneath me.

I heard angry yelling and the sound of metal meeting flesh.

I let my eyes shut for a moment, and then I felt myself being lifted.

Fighting to keep my eyelids open, I heard the desperate pleas of my name.

My name, I registered numbly – not Henry.

My limbs went cold.

Then everything went black.

*~*~*

"Henry!"

It was Enders' voice that resonated in the back of my mind. It seemed to pull me closer to a door of the unknown. I was being dragged out of sleep as the voice persisted, yelled, screamed at me.

That's not my name.

"I'll go get Robin!"

I furrowed my eyebrows but my eyes remained shut. The most intense of pains pulsated throughout my body.

Elwin? He must be dead, too. How had he died?

The pain didn't subside in the slightest.

"No!" Enders snapped. His voice rang out in a way I couldn't identify. Was it horror? Sadness? Pain? I felt the hardness of wood under me.

...and is that the sound of the bridge? Bridge must be dead too. Darkness and deliriousness was starting to take me under again.

"What?!" Elwin yelled. I wondered if they could possibly be any louder, but that was a stupid question; of course, they could. Outlaws were plain rowdy.

"Do not get Robin!" Enders shouted back at him. "Get some cloths and anything else you can get your hands on!" His voice was shaking, I noticed.

I would have smiled if it didn't hurt so much.

"Get Evie! Go, now!" Enders emphasized his directives, shouting them clearly. His voice trembled like I'd never heard before.

I felt pressure on my body, and a fierce pain I couldn't place rushed through me. "Oh, my God, Harlow..." Enders' voice came again.

Warm, wet, shaking hands came to my face, cupping my cheeks. I could barely feel it.

The only thing I could focus on was the overwhelming smell.

Iron, maybe...

I wanted to laugh but found that the pain was too much. I coughed and made a loud groaning noise. I finally threw open my eyes and looked around, dazedly.

I panicked, looking down at my wound. Enders' hands flew to the blood-soaked injury and pressed firmly on my body.

"Henry!" He exclaimed. He didn't release the pressure he held on me.

My eyes rolled back gently, wanting to close again. My head lolled to the side, giving me a perfect view of the rushing ravine of Rainworth Water.

"Keep your eyes open, Henry!" Enders warned me, placing his hands on my cheeks again, forcing me look at him as the smell came back again.

My eyes lazily darted to his hands, which were stained red – blood.

My blood.

Fantastic, my deliriously sarcastic thought almost made me giggle. The pain made my eyes go back as the lids closed over them.

"Keep your eyes open!" Enders shouted louder this time.

I fought as hard as I could, but the pain was breaking my will to fight.

When he spoke, I could feel his breath on my skin and the panic in his voice. I felt the warmth of his hands on my stomach. He held my head upright with his right hand and moved his left to the wound, applying painful pressure.

"Henry!" His voice rang out again. "Open your eyes!"

I opened my eyes for a moment, finding the energy deep within me to look at him.

I saw the pain and panic there in the way he stared back at me. It was overwhelming and numbing. I wanted to keep my eyes open, and stay awake for him, but just as I resolved to keep on fighting, I lost the willpower to keep my eyes open and my eyelids fluttered shut.

"If you don't open your eyes right now, I'll rip that hat right off your head," Enders threatened, his voice wavering and unsteady. He tried hard to keep it stern and authoritative; almost threatening. "I swear to God, Harlow, I'll do it."

I fought to lift my eyelids half-way before failing to keep them open.

I wanted to scoff. So, what? He already knew I was a woman. My stay in Sherwood was over anyway. Wouldn't it be better to die fighting than be sent away like I had no thought of my own?

Enders sat still just above me. "Henry, please, keep your eyes open," Enders begged. His voice shook again in a way that broke my heart.

This probably broke him, too. He knew that I was Harlow – his betrothed. I was certain this wasn't how he envisioned our union.

The pressure on my midsection returned with a brand-new kind of force and a commotion of sounds jumbled themselves together awkwardly in my head.

The sound of thumping footsteps rang out around me. Too many to be just one person, and too loud to be Evie.

"What's going on?!" Robin's voice called out as he ran onto the bridge.

"Henry!" Enders begged, his voice losing the hope he'd once had.

"I've got rags and herbs!" Elwin's voice rang out, along with the creaking wooden planks of the bridge. Reggie voiced concern somewhere in the mix.

"Get out of the way!" Robin's voice rang out as he came closer to me.

I felt myself being lifted and carried, feeling warm liquid drip off my body from under me. I knew it was blood but I didn't even care to think about it.

"Reggie, run ahead and tell Aldridge and Evie to prepare for a serious wound!" Robin yelled, running with me laying limply in his arms.

"Aye, sir!" Reggie shouted. I heard his running footsteps take off away from me.

I gave one last attempt to open my eyes, my head dangling off the side of Robin's arm as he ran with me. I looked back, my eyes catching Enders' as he knelt on the bridge with blood covered arms.

Elwin had stayed with him, crouching next to him, one hand on his shoulder, staring after Robin and me. A small crowd of men had gathered, standing around the bridge, looking between Enders and my limp body.

Enders' face was more distraught than anyone around him. His eyebrows sat low and scrunched over eyes that screamed of pain and desperation. His arms sat limply on his thighs, covered in my blood, unable to move. It was as if he was so shocked and frozen that he didn't understand what was happening. Even from the ever-growing distance between us, I could see his hands trembling a little as they rested. He wouldn't take his eyes off mine.

My heart ached for him.

But, I couldn't fight it anymore; I let my eyelids drop over my eyes and felt myself get swept away by the darkness that awaited me.

### Chapter Eighteen

Five weeks of feverish dreams and force-feeding passed with unease.

From what I understood, they were preparing for my burial.

Then, they thought I was holding on for a priest, which they brought from Edwinstowe to perform last rights.

Then, they thought I may have had bad blood, but were too afraid to do anything about it so they just let my lay there.

The only thing that kept them from 'putting my out of my misery,' as Enders later put it, was that I would wake up every few days with no recollection of anything. I'd ask a question or say something and then I'd pass out again for a few days.

I didn't remember waking up at all, but everyone told me they'd seen it once or twice. I'd had visitors every day, from what Enders told me.

I hadn't been able to keep my eyes open for longer than ten minutes over the past three weeks. I'd wake up delusional and start rambling about nonsense. Whenever my eyes would flutter, they'd shove food down my throat before I lost consciousness.

Once or twice I thought I felt a hand on my own, clutching it with a force so genuine I thought it might be my father.

It was a cloudy, rainy evening when I'd shot up in my cot and started heaving, feeling a pain in my midsection fire up.

Disoriented, I looked around trying to figure out what was happening.

"Henry?" Enders' voice was distinct. I didn't have to look to know it was him. "Oh, my God, Henry," Enders moved from the chair on the left and sat on the bed next to me.

I kept panting, my nightmares becoming more and more nonsensical as I sat there. I couldn't get enough air; my breathing was more and more unsteady the longer I sat.

I took one look at Enders, and noticed small, fading bruises over his face.

Ripping the blankets away from my body, I found a clumsily wrapped wound, blood seeping slowly onto the pearl bandage. It wasn't life-threatening, but it made me want to gag all the same.

"What the hell is going on?" I asked through sweat and gritted teeth. An exasperated groan escaped my lips.

"You don't remember?" Enders pulled my blanket back up over my legs, which bore some trousers I hadn't recognized as mine. They certainly didn't look like mine.

I shook my head, trying to sit up. I failed, struck down by pain in my stomach. Like a flying arrow, it shot from my back to my front with immobilizing force. I fell back, propped up on my elbows behind me and leaning myself to the side.

"I remember being run off a cliff." I groaned, raising one hand to make sure my hat was tightly on my head. "Uh, then we fell into the lake." I felt the cloud in my memory slowly receding. "Then, the cave, and..." I let my eyes lift to his.

The Sheriff.

My identity.

He nodded, casting his eyes away from mine for a moment. "You've been out for five weeks, Henry. The soldiers found us after we jumped off the cliff." He paused, letting his eyes sit on mine again. "You threw yourself between me and the Sheriff of Nottingham. Do you remember that?"

I couldn't say anything. My throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I swallowed, staring at him and finally nodded.

"You saved my life." His eyes were like fire on mine and I couldn't explain the feeling he was stirring in my chest.

I looked around the room – anywhere but those eyes that seared into mine. Pain swept through my body again when I tried to sit up. Instead, Enders placed a hand on my shoulder and lowered me back to a laying position. I breathed a sigh of discontent relief.

"You're not getting up."

I gritted my teeth. "Robin Hood."

Enders shook his head, understanding me immediately. "No. You don't need to talk to anybody right now. What you need is to keep resting."

I gave up and let myself stay laying down; I didn't have the energy or strength to argue with him.

Enders got up and moved toward the door of the cabin. "Stay here. I'll go get you some food. You'll probably enjoy it more now that you're awake."

I wanted to chuckle, but instead a small cough came out.

I laid back down and felt my eyes become tired and strained. I looked around the cabin, noticing that this was one of the cabins where we put the wounded, so they could recover away from the others. I casted my eyes to the right, seeing the window, rain gliding down the glass. My personal affects laid in the right corner under the window. I breathed a sigh of relief at that. I didn't have anything that would give me away, but I did have that hairbrush that Enders had already seen.

Enders was a whole other issue completely. He might not remember what Allyn Hall had said, but he probably did. He probably knew I was a woman. But, he was still calling me by the male name I had chosen. We'd have to deal with that eventually...but, I was glad for the reprieve.

When my eyes moved to the left, I felt my jaw hang open and a gasp escaped my lips. There, on the floor, were two blankets, folded up, with another coming up over them, a pillow sitting at the top of the assembly.

A bed.

My eyes searched, finding a familiar bag and weaponry sitting in the left corner behind a chair. The last thing I noticed was a book – something extremely uncommon these days – sitting on the floor beside the bed. There was only one person who I knew that both cared enough to do this and was literate enough to read a huge book like that.

I moved to sit up, wanting to see more of the bed he'd set up next to mine, but the pain was too intense. I felt like I couldn't breathe. Everything around me started to spin. I focused my eyes on the chair beside the bed.

I let my mouth fall open a little as I realized that these were Enders' belongings.

Why had he been waiting here?

He could have waited anywhere, but I felt the answer in my soul.

Enders had been waiting for me.

*~*~*

Enders came back to my cabin with food not even five minutes later.

I was both irritated and annoyed when I needed help eating. He held the bowl for me because my hands trembled too much to hold it myself, but I found that if I moved quick enough I could manage to get the spoon into my mouth without spilling it too much.

"What do you remember?" Enders asked when I'd finished the food. He placed the bowl on the small table that had been pushed into the corner. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he looked at his folded hands.

I blinked, not sure how to answer that question. I could lie and tell him I didn't remember anything, but...

Aren't you tired of lying?

I stared at the door that stood across the room from me. I was tired of it. I was tired of keeping track of all the deceptions I had woven into my life.

Enders had almost died with me – for me, actually. I owed him the truth, even though I knew I'd never say it to him out loud. But, I was in charge of that unit, and I had made the mistake of walking us into an ambush. Enders deserved something other than lies from me.

So, I tilted my head, my hopeless eyes connecting with his searching gaze and said the one thing that could undo all the work I had done: "Everything."

His slack-jawed face was one that brought a certain level of regret and comfort to me.

Finally, somebody knew. It almost felt like a weight was being lifted.

Then, he cleared his throat and nodded. "Good. Robin will want to hear it from you, Henry. I told him everything, but he's meticulous and wants all the details from you as well...Henry."

I blinked at him once, then again, confused.

He remained still, staring down at his hands.

"Really?" I asked, my voice growing softer, trying to understand what he was doing.

"You know Hood." He shrugged, offering me one of his normal smiles. "That's how he is."

I nodded, my face scrunched in confusion for a split second, but when I saw the way his eyes peeked up at me from under his eyelashes, I knew.

He was keeping my secret. This was him telling me that he was going to act like he'd never known about it.

I shook myself of the topic and decided to change the direction of the conversation before I thought too much into it. Nodding to the bed on the floor, I asked, "was this you?"

He casted his eyes to the small bundle of blankets and his things, then nodded. "Aye. Someone had to make sure you didn't die in your sleep."

I wanted to laugh but coughed instead. It was the same words he'd said to me after I'd gotten into my first fight with the knights.

This time he didn't leave, though. Instead, he stood and took the chair by it's arms, moving it to an empty corner. "You need your rest."

I raised an eyebrow as I watched him drag out the make-shift bed. "What about you?"

"I'll read for a while. When your asleep, I'll sleep too."

I felt almost uncomfortable at that. It felt so friendly – something we had never been.

He paused, stoic for a moment. "To make sure."

To make sure I don't die or something in my sleep. I understood what he meant, but I still felt a bit awkward about it. My chest lit up with little flutters and my skin felt warm. "Right." Clearing my throat, I spoke again, nodding to the book that sat next to the blankets, "what are you reading?"

"The Iliad." He said, grabbing the book from the floor and shifting it in his hands, looking over the front and back of the collection of parchment. "It belonged to my grandfather. It's about a Greek war that happened hundreds of years ago."

"Who wins?" I asked as he settled himself into the bed, one hand under his head, the other holding the book on his chest.

"No one." He said, then turned his eyes to me. "The Greeks win the war, but they lose their best fighter. So, no one really wins."

I nodded, letting that sink in. The longer we remained silent, the more lost in my head I became. What would my deception cost me? Was this whole thing worth doing in the first place? Should I have stayed in Dexthorpe and fought them?

"I could..." Enders trailed and then stopped and shook his head. "Never mind."

"What?" I asked, rolling on my side to face him, my hands folded under my face. I realized it was probably a really feminine way to sleep, but it was so comfortable that I didn't care to fix it.

He stared at the book in his hand and then sighed as if he regretted saying anything. "I could read it out loud if you want?"

I stared at him, trying to keep my face completely expressionless as I focused on keeping the thumping of my heart from tearing out of my chest.

There was something almost intimate about him offering to read to me. I supposed it was partly because not everyone could read, so the fact that he was literate made my stomach flutter with something I couldn't quite name. The other – greater – part of me wanted him to read to me because...I didn't know. I just wanted to hear his voice.

I nodded, swallowing down the ball that had lodged itself in my throat and made me speechless.

He eyed me, like he was afraid he'd scared me, but tore his eyes away and opened the front parchment of the manuscript he held.

I was drifting to sleep when he stopped reading an hour later. Too tired to open my eyes, I groaned instead. "Why did you stop?"

"It's too dark to see the page now. You should be sleeping anyway." His voice was quiet, like he didn't want to wake me even though I was already awake.

"I really liked it." I said, my voice grainy with exhaustion. I was unsure if I was talking about his voice or the book.

"Do you think Harlow will?" He asked.

I smiled, when I should have instead jolted to awareness at that. "I know she will."

"Why don't you want her to marry me?"

Why did his voice so far off? Why were we still talking? I felt like I was moving in water. It was so hard to even open my mouth, never mind speak. "It's not that I don't want her to. She wants it more than she should, but she doesn't deserve happiness after all she's done."

I was slipping away from him, but I couldn't fight sleep anymore.

He had said something that I didn't catch as a crashing wave of peace washed over me. It was the first time I had ever felt what it meant to be home. I didn't have time to think about it before I fell asleep – and I didn't want to think about it, anyway – but, I thought it had to do with Enders, and hearing the cadence of his voice I was swept into the unknown.

It was the first time I didn't worry about someone finding me, figuring me out, trying to harm me. It was the first time I felt completely safe.

*~*~*

Six weeks seemed to float by as I tried to let myself rest after that. I was stubborn, yes, but I knew that if I kept pushing myself then I'd never heal.

When I finally left the cabin for the first time since the ambush, the snow had cleared and winter was starting to recede. Usually, Robin ordered the outlaws to leave Sherwood during the brutal winter months, but he had insisted that they stay this time – there was too much to get done. He seemed genuinely regretful to demand everyone stay, but he was Robin Hood and his demands were met with compliance.

I was a little thankful that I hadn't had to worry about fighting in the snow. I imagined that was a difficulty that I wasn't sure I wanted to tackle.

I sat quietly on the bridge, lost in thought.

I'd spoken to Robin Hood for the first-time last week. He'd been apologetic, taking the attack to heart and knowing it had been his decision to send us out there. But, he was Robin Hood, and insisted that it was a tragic necessity. He expressed his happiness that we had lived and left quickly to tend to his other duties.

Regardless, I had forgiven him and requested that he consider my input more when it came to raids and thieving.

He'd only chuckled and nodded.

Now, I looked over the horizon at a rising sun.

My thoughts felt scrambled.

I looked down at my hands in my lap, closing my eyes and letting the sunlight rest on my skin. My feet lightly poked at the water down below.

Minutes passed in silence before the wood started to creak under me. I sighed in contentment before looking up and seeing Enders approaching me, a fancy-looking bowl in his hands.

"Hey, Henry," Enders greeted, sitting down next to me, the bowl balanced securely in his palm. He'd been especially attentive to me in more recent weeks.

"Hode," I greeted, a weak smile on my lips.

After he'd found a comfortable seat on the arch next to me, he looked over the horizon and set the bowl in his lap. "How are you feeling today?"

I took a glance at him, his hair teasing his eyes gently. It had grown more than he'd usually allowed it to. The last few weeks had been hard on him, so he probably didn't have time. Not to mention that he'd been spending every second of his free-time with me.

I tried not to think about it too much – seeing as the matching grown-out stubble on his chin made butterflies in my stomach scramble.

"Fine," I smiled happily before letting my eyes graze back to the rushing river. "How are you feeling?"

The sides of his mouth twitched upward. "Fine," he said, sighing and looking around. "I brought you some stew from yesterday." The bowl hung in his fingers, waiting for me to take it. "I noticed you hadn't eaten anything."

My smile grew. "I was really hoping you would." I said, taking the bowl gratefully. I, oh-so-gracefully, shoveled food into my mouth.

Enders let his lips twitch into a smile, letting his eyes linger on me a few seconds longer than necessary.

This is how things had been for the last couple of weeks. Enders had been especially generous and nice, bringing me food and supplies whenever I needed anything. I would feel my heart ache to see him, my desire to be near him increased with every passing day. My eyes would wander in his direction and linger on him.

I was halfway finished before I noticed the bowl. Beautifully crafted designs lined the outside. I marveled at the detail for a moment. "Where did we get this bowl from?"

"Last week's caravan off one of the side roads," Enders said. He moved his hand behind him and tilted his head back, taking in the sunlight. "I saw it fitting for royalty."

I stopped completely, the spoon halfway to my mouth, drops of stew leaking off it and splashing back into the bowl. I placed the spoon back into the bowl and let it sit in my lap. I cleared my throat, unsure of what to say.

So, he did know.

I'd had an inkling that he knew, but we never talked about it. He'd been doting on me – which I'd known was absolutely strange given that we didn't ever get along – but he never once made any indication that he knew that I was a woman and Harlow.

"Relax." He said, taking in a deep breath, and cracking open an eye to look at me.

"Uhm..." I said, staring out over the water, too afraid to look at him anymore.

"I won't mention it again if it makes you uncomfortable, Harlow." He said, sitting up and leaning his elbows on his knees. His eyes peered at me.

I let my panicky eyes crash into his. "I... uh..."

"Henry," he said, authoritatively.

My eyes snapped to his in horror.

"It's alright if you don't want to talk about it. I only thought...you might want to." His face was so genuine it almost hurt to look at it.

"I wasn't sure you knew. You never mentioned it after the sheriff."

He nodded and then took in a deep breath. "I knew before that."

I felt my body sag. If he'd figured it out before, who else knew?

"Only the night before," he said, witnessing my defeated look. "When we jumped into the lake to escape. Your hat came off on the way down and I saw your hair when you were helping me to shore. That's when I had the idea, but I wasn't sure until Allyn Hall said who you were." He paused and shrugged as he looked over the water. "Then there was the hairbrush I found in your things a few months ago."

I closed my eyes and bowed my head. Oh no. I was silent for a moment. "Are you going to tell Robin?"

Enders recoiled a bit and shook his head. "No. Never." He turned to me, folding one leg under him. "I understand that you came here for a reason. I was only wondering what those reasons were."

I bit my lip as I looked at him. Uncertainty filled me. If I told him about Aaron Rueben and he thought I was scandalous like the rest of my village...I didn't know if I could handle that. These last six weeks, he'd become my best friend, which was weird because he'd been kind of my worst enemy before that – but he'd also been the one person I could count on the whole time.

This relationship was getting a little complicated...

Sighing, I looked up at the horizon over the trees. "This man in my village – Aaron Rueben – cornered me on my way home from the market one day." I chanced a glance at him and saw his eyes completely focused on me. "The day that I met you and Alton. Aaron wanted to know why I was talking to outlaws and he kept coming closer to me and making me uncomfortable. He was so close I could smell the alcohol on his breath."

I heard Enders make a strangled noise. "I'm sorry."

I turned to him and shook my head. "It's not your fault. He got what he deserved."

"What happened to him?"

"I kneed him in the stomach and flung my elbow at his nose. There was blood everywhere." I laughed but then stopped because that probably wasn't funny.

But, when I looked at Enders, his lips slowly twitched into a smile. "You did?"

I nodded. "He wouldn't let me be, so I had to do something." Clearing my head and my throat, I continued. "Anyway, he told lies that I participated in...intimate acts with him. No one liked me before that, but at least I could buy in the marketplace. After those lies, I couldn't do anything. People came to our home and demanded that I marry Aaron to appease his family for breaking his nose. Then, Aaron came, drunk and angry, and he forced his way into my home and screamed that I be given to him. I hid under my father's bed while he threw Aaron out of our house."

Enders watched me, horrified, and I had to pause to make sure I wasn't overwhelming him.

Swallowing down my regret of telling him, I finished the story: "I overheard my father telling one of the elders that I would be married by the end of the year, and I thought he meant to Aaron. Turns out he meant you." Casting my eyes away from him, I looked down at my hands. "I felt betrayed that he'd so quickly marry me off. It was like I meant nothing. That was the night I left home and came here."

Silence fell over us for a few seconds.

I felt a burn of embarrassment wash over me. Casting a glance at him, I saw his fists clenched tight, his knuckles going white, and his lips pursed in a tight line. His eyebrows sat angry over his eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you. I understand this," I motioned between us, "is not something you want."

He turned his head to me and let his anger falter. "No. That's not it." He rubbed a hand over his face. "I can't believe a man could act with such delusion."

I shrugged. "Yeah."

Silence fell over us again and I didn't want to feel awkward anymore, so I decided to take hold of my courage. "So, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like it if you continued to call me Henry and act like everything is the same."

He raised an eyebrow at me, a twitch of a smile on his lips. "I don't know about the same, but I promise you that no one will discover your secrets because of me."

The smallest of smiles crept onto my face, too. "Thank you."

Enders nodded, his head tilting back and basking in the sun. "You're welcome." He sighed in contentment. The hair that tickled his eyes parted to the sides of his face as he soaked in the sun.

I returned to my food, taking in two spoonfuls before turning my eyes back on him. "Why did you come here?" I asked between bites of stew.

Enders froze, his eyes popping open to look down at me. He stared at me, as if running through scenarios in his head. He chewed in the inside of his cheek for a minute before he finally spoke, "I came looking for someone."

I drew back and arched a curious eyebrow. "Looking for someone?"

He shrugged. "My father."

My smile dropped and faded. He had mentioned before that his father had been an outlaw and that his father had left him when he was only five years old, but I had never thought that the man who sired Enders could be in camp. "Did you find him?"

Enders leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs as he stared down into the water rushing under his feet. "Aye, but he doesn't know that it's me yet."

I stared at him, stunned. "Why haven't you told him?"

Enders finally turned his eyes on me, reluctant for some reason. "It's not time yet." Turning his eyes to the water, he picked off a splinter of wood from the bridge and tossed it into the water. "You haven't asked who he is yet."

I shook my head and looked up at his profile, which my heart throb harder in my chest. "If you wanted to tell me, you would. Otherwise, it's none of my concern."

He tilted his head at me, letting out a thoughtful sound that made me think I may have impressed him with the way I hadn't pushed to know who his father was.

"How's the wound?" He turned his eyes on me, directing the conversation to a safer topic.

I shrugged, chewing on the stew. I swallowed before answering, "it's okay. It hurts sometimes, but I can move now."

"I figured that much when I saw you out here," Enders said. "Be careful, though."

I raised an eyebrow; a smile plagued my lips. "I'm not sure I'm familiar with that word."

Enders barked a loud laugh. "Yeah? I've noticed."

I nodded, raising the spoon to my lips. Enders took one look at me and shook his head.

"How do you like being the head of a unit?" I asked, pushing aside the empty bowl and leaning backward on my palms.

Enders sighed. "It's not easy," he turned his eyes to me, "but if you could manage it, I can too."

I nodded. "You're right," I said, making sure my hat was still on tightly, "it's not easy."

Enders shrugged, going serious for a moment. "I like it. Things have been comfortable since it's still Rawley, Elwin, Candor, and Reggie, but I'm nervous about how well I can lead them if we end up in another out-of-control situation."

"You seem to be doing great." I offered, genuinely.

"It helps that Hood is impressed that we managed to kill the Sheriff of Nottingham." Enders added.

I shrugged. "I believe I was pretty much unconscious at that point. That was all you."

"Don't sell yourself short, McBride. You took out his friends." Enders grinned at me before he took in a sharp breath and stood. "Speaking of the group, I've got to go brief them on our next task," he brushed the dirt off his pants.

I hadn't seen a briefing in a long time. I smiled at the thought of being there. Especially since Enders would be conducting it. I felt the pull to tag along half to satisfy my curiosity, and half to prolong my time with him. "I'll go with you."

Enders raised an eyebrow, "There's no reason for you to."

I shrugged my shoulders and leaned down to pick up the bowl. There was a sharp pain in my abdomen, but I managed to only wince this time. "I want to see how it goes."

The most uneasy of expressions set itself on Enders' face. "Are you sure?"

"Aye," I said, stumbling just a little on my own two feet. Enders shot out a hand to keep me steady. The last thing he needed was to have to dive into the river to save me from drowning.

"When is the next raid?" I took a few steps down the bridge, the bowl in my hand, and Enders' touch lingering on my arm for a second longer than I thought would be appropriate.

"None of your business," Enders quipped. His head was tilted toward the planks beneath, walking his steps with mine. He walked slow and casual, so that I could keep up with him.

I laughed and nudged Enders' arm. "Come on, tell me."

Enders was silent for a few seconds. "Tomorrow night."

I nodded. "Be careful, then."

Enders smiled deviously, "I'm not sure I know the meaning of that word."

I let out one of the most genuine laughs I could manage without wincing. My voice echoed in the forest and back to us.

I let my eyes turn up ahead of us and felt my laughter die in my throat.

My heart froze. Panic and fear strung throughout my stomach and threatened to spread to my limbs.

A man stood before us, his eyes baring down on me from the end of the dirt path, next to the cabin I'd taken residence in since my wound.

His short brown hair gleamed in the sun, gray strands being a testament to his life. His skin was pink from the sun's heat, and small bruises covered his forearms and face. He stood with his arms folded over his chest, showing off the decent muscles he'd acquired over the years.

It was a look so reminiscent of my childhood, one that terrified me to my very soul, one that I respected, and one that I loved.

My blood ran cold: "Father."

### Chapter Nineteen

His eyes were so filled with rage that the only thing he could manage to do at first was raise an eyebrow.

I could feel Enders tense up beside me. I couldn't even begin to imagine what he was thinking right now.

"Commander McBride," Enders greeted my father coolly.

My father's eyes twitched to Enders and flashed with unease. "Enders," he greeted. Then his body turned toward me. "Henry?" My father asked. What it really meant was: "you're going by the name Henry?"

"Yes?" My voice came out barely above a whisper. I tried to act as nonchalant as I could but it wasn't working. "How are you, father?"

My father's lips twitched up gently. There was some part of him that found the whole situation funny. Another, more serious, fatherly part found it completely horrifying. "I was passing through and heard that my son was doing quite well." The more serious part of him was winning over the funny part. "Except for the run-in with King Wesley's Sheriff, that is."

I felt my face blush red with fear. My hand instinctively hovered over the part of my body that was still healing.

"Let's speak privately." He motioned toward the cabin behind him.

"Don't you need to speak with Robin Hood first?" Sweat started to moisten my palms. If there was one thing I feared more than the king, it was my father's wrath. My eyebrows knitted together in fear and my mouth went dry.

"I already have," his impatience wasn't something he masked. "Now if you don't mind." He motioned to the cabin again.

I looked backward at Enders, and forward again to my father. "My company needs to be briefed on their next duty," my voice cracked a bit. I'd never been a good liar. "I'm afraid this matter is a very pressing one."

"Ah," my father said, crossing his arms and looking at me. "That's odd. From what I've been told, you haven't been involved in any raids for eleven weeks now."

I sighed, silently cursing at Robin Hood. I nodded and turned to Enders. "Excuse me, Enders."

I sulked past my father and into the cabin.

My father paused only for a moment before storming into the cabin and slamming the door shut behind him.

*~*~*

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" My father shouted at me as I leaned up against the door frame. He placed his hands on his hips as he stared down at me.

"What am I doing? What are you doing?" I asked, leaning back on the door post.

He raised one hand to his forehead and rubbed his face. "Take off the hat. I want to speak with my daughter, not my son."

"No. I can't," I shook my head. "I won't."

I felt free. I'd never been this defiant in my life, and now I'd finally felt like I could make my own decisions.

My father made a frustrated grunt-kind of noise. "Why are you here? Don't you understand how dangerous this is?!"

I stayed quiet, looking at my arms folded across my chest.

Harrison sighed the most exasperated sigh. "Why, Harlow?"

I turned my eyes upward and bit the inside of my cheek. A fire built in my chest at that question. "There were a lot of reasons."

Harrison again sighed, "Like what? What could possibly make you want this?"

"I didn't want this, but what was I supposed to do? No one liked me in the village. I couldn't buy fruit. I couldn't even walk around without hearing them call me all kinds of nasty words. They all wanted me to leave, but that would mean you would leave too, and they couldn't risk that." I drew in a breath and sighed. "I didn't feel safe there anymore. Aaron would not have stopped coming for me." I looked to my left, the sunlight poured in through the window. I looked at my cot, neatly folded and made.

"That's no reason to leave! I would have protected you! You had other options!" My father exclaimed.

"How!?" I roared back. "By marrying me off!? No, Dad! I had no other options! What would you possibly have done with me? Send me to marry Enders?"

My father looked taken aback. "Enders?"

We left the words hanging in the air.

I knitted my eyebrows together, but kept my eyes planted away from my father. "I overheard you talking to Edwin, the elder. You said that you'd have me married before the year ended. I thought you meant to Aaron, but now I know that you meant to Enders Hode. I discovered - during my first task as leader of a group – that you had me engaged since birth. After all that talk about how I was unavailable for marriage, you had me betrothed the whole time."

My father stared at me, completely confused. "...Enders Hode?" His mouth dropped open as he stared at the floor of the cabin. Shaking his head, his eyebrows scrunched above darting eyes as he tried to make sense of something.

"Yes. We were out on a mission when he mentioned that he had been betrothed to Harlow McBride, the daughter of Harrison McBride, which makes sense, considering the way he dashed away from me when I'd met him and Alton in Dexthorpe."

My father turned his eyes on me and I felt the full weight of his confusion.

"You...had me betrothed, didn't you?" I asked, doubting myself.

He nodded immediately, but his expression wasn't any less stunned.

"To Enders Hode?" I asked.

He paused, staring at me. "That's what he said?"

"Yes." I said, crossing my arms and stepping toward him. "What are you hiding from me now?"

My father shook his head. "Nothing, Harlow. I just hadn't realized that Enders Hode was the young man I had betrothed you to."

"You didn't know?" I stepped back, trying to take in full breaths. "You promised me to someone you didn't even know?!"

"No." My father said in a calm, reassured voice. "I went to great lengths to make sure that the boy would become a good man for you. I checked in with his mother every year until he turned sixteen. But, he went by a different name in his youth. I hadn't realized that Enders was the same boy."

I breathed out a sigh of relief. At least my father had taken care to ensure my future with Enders would be a good one. I shook my head after a moment. "Enders mentioned that he goes by a name given to him by his childhood friends."

"That explains a lot..." My father trailed, rubbing his chin.

I shook my head and pushed myself off the door post, feeling a strike of pain in my abdomen. I refused to cringe. "You didn't tell me about my betrothal. I thought you were going to have me married to Aaron Rueben. And, I did not belong in Dexthorpe, so I will not apologize for attempting to find safety in Sherwood." I stepped closer to the window and leaned on the wall. "So, what now? Where will you send me?"

"Nowhere." He rubbed his tired eyes and sighed. It was the first time I had noticed how tired he looked.

I looked at him, an eyebrow raised and my eyes skeptical. "Why not?"

"This is your home now." Harrison said. He plopped himself down in one of the chairs on the right side of the room. He raised his hands to his eyes and rubbed them again, slouching forward and propping his elbows up on his knees.

"What of Dexthorpe?" I took a step closer to my father, watching him with skeptically optimistic eyes.

He rubbed a hand over his face. "There is no Dexthorpe to go back to. The king's men came through the village last week."

I felt my jaw go slack. "The village is gone?"

My father nodded. "Practically." He closed his eyes and let his head hang. "There were only four survivors. They refused the refuge of Sherwood. I stopped by here to let Robin know. Then, I was headed to the next village over to check for survivors there."

I took a step closer to my father. "Why did they come? What are they looking for?"

My father raised his eyes to look at me. There resided sadness in the speckled bronze color that I had never seen before. He rubbed his jaw, scratching his beard hesitantly. Quietly, he murmured, "They were looking for you. Apparently, someone had informed them that two McBride's lived there."

I took an uneasy step forward. Words caught in my throat. Everyone I knew was gone? How had they died? Fire? Sword? It was my fault? Did I start this?

"They threatened to torture and kill everyone until someone confessed to knowing where you were. They killed everyone anyway and started searching homes. I fled before they lit the place on fire."

I wanted to say something but found nothing consoling to say.

"They know that I have a daughter, but they haven't any idea where you are." My father's voice finally shook.

I raised a hand to my mouth, tears threatening the brims of my eyes. I'd never seen my father so broken; he was always too strong to break.

"I want to be mad. I want to yell at you and send you away from here, but," he sighed. The burden of a whole village was resting on his shoulders. "Leaving Dexthorpe was the best thing you could have done, and I'm so glad that you did."

Silence hung in the air between them.

I could have been dead. So many times, I could have died, but so many others had died in my place. A whole village of people I'd known my whole life was completely wiped off the face of the Earth.

"You're a brave girl, and I'm proud of you and the courage you have." He looked up at me, clasping his hands together under his chin. "You're so much like your mother."

I nodded and shifted myself to lean on my other leg. "I'm sorry I've caused you so much heartache in the last few months."

My father chuckled and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you that you were engaged to be married. I encourage you to consider it, though. He's a good man."

Shaking my head, I narrowed my eyes on my father. "Why Enders? What makes him worthy of a union with me?"

My father bit the inside of his cheek for a moment, thinking. Raising his gaze to mine, he said, "Enders has special blood, too. He should be the one to tell you of it."

I scrunched my eyebrows at that, but chose not to question him about that. Looking backward at the door, I crossed my arms again. "Are you going to tell Robin who I am?"

My father laughed. "You mean, am I going to tell him that I don't have a son?"

I nodded. I tried to harden myself. I tried to make myself seem less fragile.

He shook his head, his lips still turned up in a smile. "No. Not yet, anyway." Quieter, he said, "If I told him, there would be a few other details that would come up that I'm not sure he's ready for yet."

I raised an eyebrow. "My lineage?"

My father nodded. "All I've wanted, my dear, is to protect you – even from Robin Hood." My father stood from his chair and came to me, wrapping me in an embrace that made me feel like a lost, little girl again. I relished in the warmth before he pulled away and nodded for me to take my leave. "You look much thinner than you did in Dexthorpe. Go get some food from the fires. I've got some things to take care of, anyway."

I smiled at my father. "You never mentioned the food was so good here."

My father let out a small chuckle and left the cabin. I walked down the creaky steps beside him, giving him a farewell at the dirt path.

The sun had risen over the horizon, but the grass didn't seem so bright to me anymore. The sounds of normal operations surrounded me as I walked carefully to a secluded river front area. I watched the water from a new angle, hoping to see things differently.

While it had been nice to see my father, I couldn't get the massacre out of my mind.

Dexthorpe was attacked. Everything I'd known was gone. King Wesley was getting too cruel, too drunk with power. He was spoiled, too used to having his way. He would never rest until I was in his clutches and Robin Hood's men were dead.

I watched as a small girl walked alongside her mother, their hands interlocked as they walked past the river.

For the sake of these people, I knew I had no other choice.

I'd rested long enough and now it was time to return to my unit. I was only a girl in this vast world, but I had to do something to stop the cruelty happening before my eyes.

I turned my back on the ravine and headed toward the cabin to the far-right side, where my unit would be briefing. I raised one hand to the brim of my hat; all the strands of my hair were tucked neatly inside.

### Chapter Twenty

Quietly, I entered the cabin, capturing only Elwin's attention. He was positioned at the back of the room, facing the door. He smiled mischievously at me as I snaked my way in the door.

"We're going to enter from the west side here," Enders pointed to a place on the map in front of him. "Then, Elwin, you'll go around with Candor and catch them off-guard."

Ever since I had been injured, Robin saw Enders as a fitting leader, allowing him to lead our unit in my place. I had to admit, he looked like he was doing amazing work of it. He looked them over like he was really assessing their understanding of what he said. I almost felt inadequate as I watched him rattle off a checklist of things he wanted them to know or understand.

"Is the plan understood?" Enders asked, looking everyone over when he was finally done with the items he'd listed.

I took a step forward. "Where do you want me to be?" My voice was stronger and firmer than I thought possible. I smiled, trying not to look too surprised with myself.

Enders raised his eyes to me. He looked me over and raised an eyebrow. He tried, unsuccessfully, to hide a strike of worry that flashed across his eyes. "Are you sure you can do this, McBride?"

I nodded. "Aye."

Enders looked down at his map. "You'll be raiding the items from the caravan," he said, adding a moment later, "with me."

Enders spent the next fifteen minutes going over battle tactics and strategies.

*~*~*

I laid silently on my cot, staring up at the ceiling. The window next to me let the moonlight dance into the cabin and shine onto the floor. It was one of the most beautiful things I'd seen in days.

Two days before, a nearly fatal injury incapacitated a man and I gladly vacated my cabin so the injured man could heal in peace. Now, I was back in the cabin with the twelve other men I'd shared a cabin with for the last nine months. It was hard for me to believe it had been that long since I'd left home.

Home.

It had been three days since my father had come back to Sherwood, and more than a week since my village was destroyed. War had been started, it had been for a long time now, but nobody had ever wanted to step in and oppose the king. The outlaws were the only few who had a small amount of power to do so.

Word was going around that since the attack on Dexthorpe, the other villages around Sherwood have been in constant disarray. The citizens were in a panicked frenzy about whether their children would be safe or if they'd even have their lives for much longer.

I laid still for a full hour before deciding I couldn't sleep. I sat up and looked around my cabin. There were twelve other men sleeping in the long building, the door tucked in on the other end of the building.

Spotting Enders sleeping peacefully on his cot, I took a glance around and saw all the other men sleeping as well.

I gathered my clothes quickly and tiptoed my way down the empty area of the cabin, the area not lined with sleeping bodies. I stepped past Enders when a lone, quiet creak echoed throughout the building. At first, I was scared that the noise would wake up one of the men, but as I turned and looked, I noticed that everyone was still sleeping. Their snores didn't even skip a beat. I pushed the door open and closed it with no problem.

The darkness outside wasn't overwhelming. Instead, it was calming the way the moon's light set a pathway for me and poured over the grass. It was the first time that I really felt like myself since I'd left home, which I instantly remembered didn't exist anymore. It wasn't much of a home, but it had been mine – even though I'd renounced it and replaced it with Sherwood.

I didn't care much for all my now-lost possessions. Luckily, I'd taken all the letters Robin had sent my father when I left for Sherwood. Whoever raided our home would find nothing incriminating, valuable, or even remotely important.

I passed the creaky bridge on my right side, taking a long glance at the area I'd come to know as a peaceful getaway. The dirt path was soft under my boots, sending the most therapeutic feeling throughout the soles of my feet.

It took three minutes of walking on the dirt path until I came to the spot in which the river took a sharp right. I took an almost invisible path to a secluded portion of the river front. I tossed my extra clothing over a branch and took a minute to look over the moonlit lake. It was beautiful and terrifying. A bath now would be one of the few luxuries I had left.

Raising my hand to the brim of my hat, I slid it off my head and let it hang in my hand at my side. I stared over the ravine, the moonlight bouncing happily off the slow rush of the water.

"Henry?" Enders' voice rang out just beyond my line of sight.

My heart skipped a beat. I scrambled to put my hat back in place and shuffled my hair back under the fabric. I was finishing tucking everything in a split-second before Enders rounded the corner and spotted me.

I ran my hands over the front of my shirt and straightened out whatever wrinkles were there.

"Enders?" I scrunched my eyebrows together and took a seat on a fallen oak at my feet.

He eyed me for a moment, and then glanced at the branch holding my extra clothes. "Oh," he said and then took a step backward. "I didn't realize you were busy. I'll go back to the cabin."

I shook my head and waved him over. "It's alright. Come sit."

He was hesitant for a moment and then, finally, he gave in and come forward. "You're up late." He took a seat next to me and folded his hands between his knees. He stared out over the river, taking a quick glance at me and then looking at the trees surrounding the water.

I shrugged and looked at my hands in my lap. "I couldn't sleep."

"Ahh, I see." Enders nodded, looking down to his twiddling fingers. "I couldn't fall asleep either. How are you healing?" Enders asked through a deep exhale.

I involuntarily reached my right hand toward my left side, where a sword had gone through my body just three months prior. The skin was still pink, and it throbbed every so often, but it was coming along well. "It seems fine. I feel fine, anyway."

Enders nodded and looked back at his hands. "That's good."

"Aye," I agreed.

The air around us got thick. It was one of the first times we'd had an uncomfortable silence. We'd had angry silences, frustrated silences, happy silences, but never uncomfortable.

Enders opened his mouth, but after a few seconds closed it, awkwardly. The internal war he was waging was intense enough to drag him inside himself. It was almost as if I wasn't even there.

I kept my eyes on him and waited.

"Why do you insist on coming back to the unit?" Enders surprised both me and himself when he blurted out the question.

I met his eyes, and knitted my eyebrows together when I saw concern there. "I think it's time I started helping out again."

Enders shook his head. "We don't need you to. You need to rest more."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm fine now. It's been seven weeks since I woke up."

Enders nodded. "I know, but you almost died. We really don't need you back yet."

I looked away from him, irritation rising in my chest. "Why not? I'm fine. I'm practically healed now."

Enders shook his head. His voice was stern and frustrated. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am." I rose my voice and scooted away from him.

"You still walk with a limp sometimes. You should be resting. I think your father would agree." Enders argued, raising his voice to match mine.

"Why don't you want me to come back? Do you think I'm incapable or something?" I accused. I stood and looked at him. He followed my lead, standing from the oak and putting himself between me and my exit. I crossed my arms as I stared up at him.

"No, I don't think you're incapable, I \--"

"But, you don't want me back on the unit." My accusations were apparently getting under his skin. "Do you want to lead this unit so bad that you don't want me to come back?"

Enders looked taken aback for a moment. "No."

"Then what is it? Why do you want me to stay out of the unit?" I turned my voice up just a little bit louder.

Enders stood statue-like in front of me, an expression of irritation mixed with amusement. "It's not that," Enders took in a sharp breath and let out an angry huff. He kept his eyes even on mine.

It took me a few seconds to understand what was going on. "You're keeping something from me."

Enders let out a sarcastic laugh. "Me? You lied to me for months."

I felt my heart speed up and frustration boil under my skin. "I lied to everybody. I'm still lying to everybody."

Enders took a step closer to me and crossed his arms. His eyes boring into mine. Then, he moved quicker than I could have anticipated. He moved forward, pressed me against the tree with as little force as he could, and put his right hand on my side.

He raised his left arm and planted it on the tree next to my head to keep his balance.

"What are you doing?" I managed to choke out the words, but my voice was nervous.

I felt my pulse in my throat when his other hand pressed, thumb first, into my abdomen. More specifically, into the pink, scarred mark that accentuated the pearl color of my skin. He was gentle at first, but it only took a second for him to press his thumb down more and more until I let out the most dramatic yelp of pain. He removed the pressure, but let his hand linger on my side.

"What the hell is your problem?" I asked through gritted teeth, waiting for the dull, throbbing pain in my side to secede. I tried to move away from him, but his hand gripped my side in an iron hold, and his other arm blocked me in.

He looked down at me. My hat had lifted a little bit, several strands of my hair poking out and hanging next to my face.

Enders' breath caught in his throat for a moment as he looked over my angry expression.

"Your wound is still healing. You're strong. Don't ever think I don't know that, but you're out of practice. You need more training and more time to heal. I know what makes you tick. I know your weaknesses and I know that the second any one of us are compromised, you'll throw yourself in danger to save us." He took another moment to breathe.

I snorted. "I'm fine."

"You're also stubborn." He pointed out, making me roll my eyes at him. "But, you're right." Enders' voice was barely above a whisper. He was trying, and almost failing, to hold onto whatever nerve he had left. "I don't want you back on the unit. I do want to take your place, and It's because I'm selfish."

I was about to raise my voice, but Enders didn't give me the chance.

"It's because I can't focus. On anything." He paused to exhale. "Not when I know you're there. I can't think when you're near me. I can't breathe when you're close to me. I'm selfish because I don't want to lose you."

My body completely froze. Somehow his face was coming closer to me by only mere centimeters at a time. I felt the weight of his body on me, keeping me still against him, but even if I could move, I didn't want to. My heartbeat thumped wildly against my chest.

I felt intoxicated by him.

"What?" I breathed out, barely audible to him. Unable to find the energy for my fake, masculine voice, I let my real voice shine through, a higher-pitched confusion coming from my mouth.

Enders' lips hovered just over mine, threatening to come crashing down at any second. I felt the anxiety rise in my chest as butterflies found their way into my stomach.

There was a moment of silence and stillness before I felt his lips meet mine. I'd let my eyes stay widened for a second before I closed them in a moment of bliss. His eyes remained closed, his heartbeat racing so hard I could feel it through his chest when my hands landed there. His eyebrows knitted together attractively. His closeness comforted me in a way I'd never been comforted. His arms snaked around my body and held me close to him.

When Enders pulled away from me, he wore the most confident of expressions. He didn't release the grip on me for a few seconds.

A silence like no other filled the air after we pulled apart. It wasn't exactly awkward, but it wasn't comfortable either – for me, anyway.

I felt absolute terror fill my chest and stomach when the rush of...whatever that was left me. I turned my head away from him and looked to my left, my body pinned against his, and his iron grip holding me still.

"I, uh..." I tried to find the words to say. I failed and resorted to glancing back up to him. "Uhm."

"Harlow." He said my name, taking his right hand away from my back and inching up my hat and letting my hair pool out around my shoulders. Enders twirled a strand of my hair in between his fingers. He examined it for a long time while I tried to read the expression in his eyes.

Enders took in a long, deep sigh and pulled away from me. He took two steps back and raised one hand to the back of his neck. He shifted his eyes to the water in the ravine before them. He took a few steps forward and leaned against a tree on the water's edge, crossing his arms over his chest, my hat dangling in his fingertips.

I blinked, frozen for a moment before I followed his lead. I leaned against a tree opposite him and folded my arms across my chest. I watched his fingers rub over the fabric of my hat, as if he were trying to commit the texture to memory.

"You don't have to do this. Our fathers made this promise of a union between us and I understand that I'm not a very womanly woman."

Enders arched an eyebrow at me. "Let me be clear about how I feel: I think you're brave and strong and kind. I think you deserve to have a life better than this. And, while I would never tell your secret to anybody," he sighed, turning his eyes to me, " your father is here now and I'm fairly certain he knows that he doesn't have a son."

I laughed, this time indulging in my own voice instead of the one I'd been using for months. I could tell it caught Enders by surprise at first, but his smile showed that he had been delighted by the sound.

Silence returned in the most gradual manner.

"I'm scared he'll send you home." Enders confessed.

I scrunched my eyebrows, feeling the ache of pain in my soul. "You didn't hear? There's no home to go back to."

Enders drew his eyebrows together in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"King Wesley's men came through Dexthorpe and destroyed it. There were only four survivors," I said, taking in a deep breath, "They were looking for me. My father fled before they could find him. Apparently, they were torturing villagers until someone confessed to knowing where we lived. I thought everyone had heard by now."

Enders appraised me with his eyes, taking a moment to see if I would fall apart. When I didn't, he only said, "I'm sorry for your loss."

I decided it was better not to say that I wasn't too hurt by the incident. No one had enjoyed my presence anyway, but, they hadn't deserved to die either.

The silence filled the air between us, this time much more comfortable than the last.

"I can't stay out of this much longer." I said quietly.

Enders turned his head to me and let his arms hang at his sides while he slumped against the tree, facing me this time. "Maybe Robin can give you a pass."

"You know he won't. He placed me in charge of this group because of my father's name. There's no excuse big enough to undo that. Other than the truth of my lineage and..." I trailed, looking out over the water. "But, I can't risk telling him those truths."

"I know." Enders sat silent for a moment. His eyes met mine and his lips twitched up into a smile. "We have a raid tomorrow. I'm going to go back to the cabin and sleep," he said, standing up. "You should go too, princess."

I drew back a little bit in distaste at the term, which only made him laugh.

"I'll be there soon." I said.

I watched Enders nod and turn his back. He gave me one last glance before exiting my secluded fortress.

I scolded myself for a full hour, planting my head in my hands. I had told myself not to get close to anyone.

Of course, I didn't understand exactly how hard that would prove to be.

### Chapter Twenty-one

"Get up, McBride," Robin called out as he walked past Enders and I training together.

We hadn't spoken about the kiss for three days – since it had happened.

The raid had gone well; it was an easy enough thing to do. The monk gave up rather easily and the outlaws made off with plenty for the villages. It was actually kind of boring, which was a good thing. I wanted boring.

Enders was still being his nice, gentle, charming self to me, but he'd been distant.

He held out his hand to me, offering his help to stand up. I grabbed it gratefully and pulled myself upward.

"You ready?" Enders asked again, getting ready for another round. Others were also training, but they hadn't been going for as long as Enders and I had been. It had been several hours since we'd started training, and there weren't any signs of stopping.

I nodded, refusing to admit that I was tired.

Enders readied himself for the offensive side, when a shout rang out throughout the entire forest.

"Open the gates!"

A man with broad shoulders, who looked like he had two hundred pounds in muscle alone, ran toward the door pulley and started to yank it downward.

Robin run as fast as he could to the gates; Little John, Will Scarlett, and my father were in hot pursuit of him. They neared the gates and waited for the oak doors to open.

A bloodied and beaten man sat upon a horse that rushed into the gates. The burly man yanked the pulley level the opposite direction to close the doors when the beaten man was clear of the gate.

The beaten man was hanging like a rag doll off the horse, his eyes lolling around in his head. He was barely conscious.

"Who did this to you?" Robin was the first person to reach him. He rose his arms to the man and tried to keep him up and steady.

"They attacked Saxilby Village. They're headed this way." The man's voice was croaked and disgruntled. It was as if he hadn't used his vocal chords in days. He was trying with all his power to keep himself awake and propped up.

"Who?" Robin asked, his fingers flying around the saddle straps to undo the contraption. "John, take the horse to the stables!"

The man came off the horse and stumbled into Robin Hood and my father. "The king and his men."

My eyes widened. Horror seeped from deep within my gut to my limbs. I let my eyes fall on my father who tried to hold the man upright.

"What were they looking for?" I heard my father ask the man, his voice cautious and apprehensive.

"Outlaws. They wanted two McBride's and Robin Hood." The man's eyes wouldn't focus. He kept his head down, his legs not cooperating with him.

My father turned his eyes away from the man and locked them onto mine. The contact was nonverbal but it told me so much. The king wanted me and my father. The question was: dead or alive?

"They're headed this way?" Robin asked. He tilted his head down to get a good look at the man's face.

The man took a moment to cough and wheeze. "Aye," he coughed again. "They said they would not stop until they had who they were looking for."

Robin looked over his shoulder. "Evie, go to the cabin and get supplies ready." The woman nodded and scurried off. "John, take him to the cabin with Evie."

Little John stepped closer and grabbed the man, heaving him over his shoulder. He started toward the cabin at a brisk walk.

Robin surveyed the men who were training for a moment, as if unsure exactly what to do. "This is it men," Robin announced, causing my blood to quiver, and the coldest of shivers to shoot through my veins. "Today is the beginning of the war."

### Chapter Twenty-two

"Everyone get your weaponry and meet back here in two minutes!"

Nobody moved.

"Now!" Robin roared, and set free an exodus of running men.

I noticed Enders rush toward the cabin, but I didn't move. I had my eyes stuck on my father. I felt Enders grab my arm and drag me with him.

I ran mindlessly with Enders until we reached our cabin, grabbing the weaponry we'd stored there. Enders grabbed his bow and arrows as well as a sword. I opted for knives and other small, throwing objects; it wasn't in my nature to use swords and bows.

Enders found himself dragging me along again. My brain finally kicked into overdrive and suddenly I could think again.

This is it.

It was time to use everything I'd learned.

I started racing alongside Enders, without his constant pulling on my arm. I only stopped when I saw my father running toward the training area.

"Father!" I shouted, running toward him and away from Enders, who followed right behind me.

"Henry," my father called to me as I jogged over. "Are you sure you can do this?"

I nodded. "I can do this on my own. We need you somewhere else." I said, looking around.

"Henry, I'll be fine." My father said, looking at me.

"No, Father," I started, looking at him carefully. "You don't understand. We can handle this by ourselves. That's the second village that has been attacked. You need to head out and warn the other villages. Bring as many refugees here as possible." I said, looking over my shoulder at Robin Hood.

My father had stayed quiet. His eyes stuck on mine for a while.

"Father, you're more useful trying to evacuate the citizens than you are here."

"Then you'll come with me," he said, about to walk past me and toward Robin.

"No." I said, turning toward him. "These people need protecting. It's in my blood to do that."

My father paled slightly. "In your blood?"

I nodded and swallowed. "Evacuate the other villages, Leader McBride. Take Coors and Landon with you."

My father stared silently for a moment. He nodded, slowly, discontent. "As you command."

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him. "Be careful."

My father laughed. "You as well, my child." He held on for a moment longer. "I love you, Harlow."

"I love you, too." I broke free of the hug and reluctantly took a last look at my father before I turned my back.

I nodded at Enders and ran alongside him as we bolted for the congregation of outlaws.

Robin had just begun a speech about which direction they'd be going in and what strategy they would use. "We're splitting into two groups," he shouted, "We'll attack from the left and right sides. We don't want any of our blood spilled, so be careful. If they retreat, let them run."

I listened as Robin rattled off the groups that would be taking each position. Enders, Robin, Reggie, Little John, Candor, and I all shared a group with two dozen other men that I hadn't remembered.

Everything was happening too fast. Sherwood citizens were running around gathering their things together before the men set off. The men were yelling to each other and getting in formation.

I heard horse hooves from the right. My eyes caught my father's before he was through the oak gates and gone.

Then, they were in the forest. That's when my brain seemed to fully come back to me. The fuzzy, blurry feeling wore off and I was suddenly aware of everything going on around me. The wind blew gently, brushing against my face. I took step-by-boring-step and waited for something to happen. Instead, the minutes dragged on like hours and every noise made me more alert.

Robin Hood stood at the back of the group with several of the more experienced archers, in the front were some of the experienced swordsmen, and standing in the middle of the group were some of the people who could do either swordplay or archery with great skill. I was placed in the middle, given my excellence with knives and other objects that were light enough to be thrown. Just behind me, the archers stood, Aldridge following me as the group tried to pack themselves together.

Every snap and twig made Enders twitch, I noticed. He was nervous, but he was alert, and that was one of his better traits.

It was then that I heard the snap of a renegade twig in the distance. It was too close to be the other group of outlaws, but too distant to be anyone in this group. Everyone seemed to become ten times more awake at the sound.

"Left," Robin had whispered just loud enough for every to hear. Everyone turned left and went down an old, abandoned dirt pathway.

"Stop!" He immediately shouted and turned behind him. Everyone in the group turned to face him with wild eyes.

Robin held a man at arrow-point before him. The man was dressed in kingdom armor, a small beard covering his chin. He held his hands up defensively, dropping his sword to the ground.

My eyes roamed over the man at arrow-point. I raised an eyebrow. "Enders," he didn't answer but I knew he was listening, "he's not wearing his sword. Aren't they trained to always have their weaponry?"

"Who are you?" Robin demanded. The man winced at the volume.

Hell, I winced at the volume. I glanced around the forest, checking for other invaders.

"I'm a soldier for the king's army." The man's voice shook in cowardice. I let my eyebrows scrunch together a bit. That didn't seem genuine one bit.

"This isn't how the king trains his men. They'd rather die than fall to an outlaw." I said quietly to Enders.

Enders had one raised eyebrow and started looking to his left and right sides.

"You're right." He said simply.

I felt my heart skip a beat and a cold panic fill my lungs. It was like breathing water – suffocating and unrelenting. "He's a distraction."

Then, the man that Robin held at arrow-point raised the edges of his lips into a wicked smile. His eyes traveled past them all, looking at a point beyond them.

I noticed his eyes, and I was certain everyone else had too. I turned around and was greeted by a swarm of men in soldier attire. I noted that they weren't wearing their bulky breastplates. They held their swords and archery bows out and at the ready.

They had this whole thing planned from the beginning. They specifically designed this sneak-attack. I found myself wondering if the beaten man who rode into Sherwood was a soldier or not. I brushed the thought off for now.

All the outlaws had turned around. It was like I could smell everyone's blood curdle with an acceptable degree of fear.

"Sire," one of the men called in a disgustingly burly voice. "We've found the outlaws."

The sounds of a trotting horse came to my ears as I stood in awe. I'd taken out my throwing knives and held them ready in my hand, below where the enemy could see.

In front of them trotted a man, sitting upon a muscular, well-bred horse. The horse – and the man, for that matter – were adorned in jewels of all colors and luxurious clothing.

I felt my blood run even colder when I saw the crown upon the man's salted hair, his brown eyes twinkling with eagerness for his imminent victory.

King Wesley.

"Outlaws," King Wesley sneered.

He was slender, but he was muscular in a subtle kind of way. He was in good health and shape considering his age. He had cropped brown and grayed hair that sat cleanly on his scalp. The crown that sat upon his head, demanded attention, it's detail so impeccable it impressed even myself – who admittedly knew nothing about jewels.

His hands gripped the horse's reins in a light touch; strange for a man so belligerent, but I figured he had a soft spot for this one horse.

This man's eyes roamed over us maliciously. I almost sucked in a breath when I noticed he had the most frustrating, dark eyes I had ever seen in my life.

Wicked. That was the first word that I thought.

Then: Evil.

Grandfather.

"How nice of you to find my sweet forest a humble abode."

No one spoke. The only sound was the movement of a horse, and the blowing wind through the trees.

"Now, I'll make this quick and painless for you." King Wesley said, looking through the crowd. I tilted my face downward in fear that he might know who I was. "Which of you is Robin Hood?"

Again, no one spoke.

I felt Enders tense, clenching and relaxing his fists repeatedly, anger flowing off him in waves.

"Really? No one?" The king asked, an eyebrow raised quizzically. "You'll all die then."

The warning had no bearing on us.

Still, no one spoke up. I felt terror flow through my veins. I felt horror for Enders. I didn't expect the touch when I felt it; Enders laced his fingers through mine, squeezed my palm in an almost comforting way. I knew he was scared. He'd expressed this very fear to me during one of their talks on the bridge only a few weeks ago – having to watch those he cared for die.

Now, all I could do was watch and wait for our lives to end.

King Wesley shrugged, the cloak at his shoulders swaying gently. He looked down to one of the knights next to him. "Kill them all."

"Wait!" A loud voice rang out through the forest.

I turned my eyes to the side in complete confusion and shock.

Enders took several steps forward, through the crowd. He let my hand fall from his own before anyone could notice he'd been gripping it.

Complete panic fired up inside me, but I couldn't move.

I felt my jaw drop and my mind go blank.

What are you doing?! I wanted to scream, to tell him to come back to me, to tell him to stop being crazy. I wanted to do so many things, but my body sat immovable. I felt like the biggest, most useless brick of ice on this continent.

The king looked annoyed upon Enders' presence. "Why should I wait if you are of no use to me?"

"Because I'm offering you something better than Robin Hood." Enders said. His anger threatened to brim over the edge of his temper's limit.

King Wesley laughed sarcastically. His gold necklaces and luxurious jewelry glinted in the sunlight. It was a testament to his wealth, to his power. "Why should I trust a mere boy? What could you possibly offer me?"

Enders stood brave in front of Wesley, although anger dominated his expression. He was fearful, but he was angrier than that, and anger makes you do crazy things. "I can offer you bait; a way to lure Robin Hood out to you."

The king raised an eyebrow, looking impatiently upon Enders. "Spit it out, boy! Why are you useful to me?!"

"My name is Eden Hood. I am Robin Hood's son, and a prince among thieves."

### Chapter Twenty-three

At first, King Wesley sat upon his horse, staring down at Enders. His eyes seemed to bore into Enders, as if he didn't even care about the words the young outlaw had just spoken, like he was thinking about what he'd have at his dinner table when he got back to the castle.

Then it was like he finally came to a decision about what he wanted to show on his face. Arching an eyebrow, Wesley dragged his eyes over Enders' body, judging his grimy clothes and sweat-slicked hair. "Why should I believe you? You could be anybody's son."

Enders pulled in a huge breath and hesitated for a moment before tearing the leather strap from his neck and tossing it to the knight standing at the king's side.

My breath and heart caught at the same time, and I suppressed the strong urge to burst out a heaving sob.

The knight caught the strap with ease and looked it over for a moment before handing it to King Wesley.

Wesley eyed it with suspicion, reading over the words that were carved in the wood.

Three seconds.

That's how long it took for the king's expression to turn from annoyance to absolute delight.

It was the longest three seconds of my life. I stood like a rock, wondering if the king would strike him down where he stood. But, no, that wasn't Wesley's game.

"Eden, my son. Inheritor of the forest." Wesley read the words out loud. "How does this prove anything?"

"The strap was made from a deer killed in your forest and the wood was carved from the bow my father used at the May Games during the reign of your predecessor, King Richard." Enders kept his face straight and spoke with a strong voice. "There isn't any other way for you to know for sure, I suppose, but I swear on my soul that these words are the truth."

Wesley sat, his eyes staring down at the carved wood for a moment before turning up to Enders, appraising his honesty.

It felt like time was passing too slowly while Enders stood surrounded by men who wouldn't have the least bit of remorse at striking him down.

"State your terms," the king finally said, his delight shining in his eyes.

"You let these men live, in one piece and return home. In exchange, I'll willingly go with you as your bait for Robin Hood."

I began taking steps forward. My jaw hung gently and my eyes took in everything happening in front of me. I started to reach out my hand to stop Enders, to pull him back. I was about two seconds from screaming that I was Wesley's granddaughter, that he should take me captive instead.

A hand on my mid-section stopped me. My eyes froze on Enders, and my body wanted to recoil from the unfamiliar touch. A voice whispered almost inaudibly to me, "don't." The thick, burly voice of Aldridge Chadwick broke me. "He's doing this for you. Do not make him regret it."

I felt the blood in my veins turn to ice as his words spilled out, speaking my own secret to myself.

I would have been more surprised if it hadn't been for Enders standing ahead of us. Standing in front of my grandfather and offering himself up to save me and the rest of the outlaws. I would have been surprised, but Enders' unpredictability had my mind trapped in a cage of panic.

This was it, I'd lost all control on everything.

Aldridge knew about me.

Enders was giving himself up.

And, my grandfather sat upon a horse in front of us, taking away the man I loved.

Loved.

I stifled a sob, steeling my quivering chin. How the hell had that happened?

A burning pang of regret filled my stomach. I loved him. My heart finally, completely shattered because I realized – never knowing if I'd ever see Enders again – that I loved him.

I felt the burn of tears from my anguish, my fear, my rage. I'd never known heartache like this could exist. I almost wanted to double over in pain but I was stuck watching Enders commit the most selfless act of loyalty I was certain I'd ever witness.

The king held a raised eyebrow. He eyed Enders suspiciously. "How likely is it that he'll come for you?" A smile sickeningly hugged at King Wesley's lips. He already knew the answer, but he wanted to see the outlaws squirm and panic.

"He'll come for me," Enders reassured. Anger built on the edge of his voice and I wondered how long it would be before he did something irrational. "Outlaws have a code of conduct. We're loyal to those we love, especially our children, whom we protect with our lives." Enders said.

The king's delight faltered slightly, flickering to annoyance at the mention. He'd killed his own daughter, and Enders was taking jabs at him for it. "Bind his hands and get him on one of the horses." He commanded the man at his right side.

"Yes, Majesty." The knight stepped forward and spun Enders around to face the outlaws. The man pulled Enders' hands behind his back and forced his head up. It was a warning to all the outlaws, not to fall out of line with royalty.

As Enders' eyes went up, he let them fall on mine. He tried to keep himself calm, but I saw the anger and panic behind them. He tried to offer a small, reassuring smile, but my anger was only brought to a boil by it.

I furrowed my brows and kept eye contact with him.

I didn't know when I'd see him next, or if I would see him again at all. I feared the worst and felt myself start to tremble. I tried to push it back, keeping the anger up front. I swallowed gently, knowing Enders noticed. I saw his brown eyes shift over me. When would I see those eyes again?

His eyes had landed somewhere behind me, and his expression changed. I knew who was behind me that he'd dare to look at: Robin Hood.

Enders quickly turned his eyes back to mine, trying to comfort me with softened looks. He let his eyes fall to the floor, unable to take the pain of looking into mine any longer.

I still felt my jaw hanging gently and my eyes filling with anger as they turned Enders around, so he could no longer see his fellow outlaws. They ushered him up onto a horse on King Wesley's right side.

"Goodbye, outlaws," The king said, malice dripping with every syllable, "and tell Robin Hood that his son is being held for ransom." With that, he shook the reins to his horse and ordered everyone back to Newark Castle.

Everything happened in a blur from that moment on.

I saw the final look in Enders eyes as he tried to get one last look at me, and then he peeled away from me in slow motion. I saw the royal cavalry rush off the way they'd come. I felt the beating of my heart all over my body.

This was a declaration of war and I refused to be on the losing side, because losing meant losing Enders.

*~*~*

An intense malice and hatred rose in my chest as I saw the cavalry disappear in the distance.

My legs unlocked from their place and propelled me forward, rushing after the cavalry.

"Everyone, back to camp, now!" Little John's voice shouted out, the booming of his words reaching me as I sprinted after the horses.

Branches and leaves crunched under my feet, and my body weaved through wooden oak trees as I dodged random foliage from clinging to me.

I was fast, but they were on horses, and horses out-did me any day. When I busted into the clearing, I saw him on the last horse as they galloped through the thicket of trees across grass.

It was only a moment, but I saw his face, resigned and afraid. There was a small spark when he saw me, but it died down into a flash of relief.

I was still moving when two arms wrapped around my middle and pulled me back with a force so hard it took the wind from my lungs.

Then the horses – and Enders – was gone.

My body collapsed into the person who had grabbed me, my eyes staring off after the troops with a hung jaw and unblinking eyes. A guttural cry tore from my lips and echoed through the forest.

When my voice was hoarse and my throat felt scratchy, the forest had gone quiet.

How could you let this happen? I asked myself as my eyes narrowed down at that stupid, green leaf. How could you have been so goddamn spineless?

The sting of tears invaded my eyes, my chin quivering with the hostility floating in my chest. I breathed in ragged draws of air, my chest heaving with rage my shoulder trembled. Initially I'd felt angry at King Wesley, but now I wanted to harm Robin. I thought of all the ways I could assault him with my knees, elbows, hands. Image after image came to me about how to make him wish he'd never left his son in the first place.

Then, the anger shifted toward myself, my father, and everyone around me. I tried to push it aside, but nothing assuaged the pain in my chest.

I knew he was hiding something. This entire time he was hiding who he was. He had lied to me.

I paused, lifting my hand to rub circles on my chest, right over my heart as it pounded with its requiem. Isn't that exactly what I had done?

"Okay?" The voice of the man I'd somehow forgot about – the one holding me still so I wouldn't bolt after Enders again – sounded behind me. I knew who it was the instant he spoke.

"How long had he known?" Aldridge asked, his tone quiet, his arms relaxing on me and backing away from me. Reserved, as always.

I took one staggered step forward and dropped to the dirt, my body unable to hold itself up. I sniffed once, eyes still pointed at that one leaf – the last one to touch Enders' body before he was torn from me. When I felt the growl crawling up my throat, I placed my palms on the ground and looked at the fresh dirt under my fingernails instead. I snarled the words, not meaning to, but not caring enough for cordiality, "what are you talking about?"

I already knew denial wouldn't work, but I wouldn't give up until I knew it was over.

"Eden-"

"Enders," I snapped. "His name is Enders."

"Enders," Aldridge amended, "hates his father. He would never have given himself up for Robin. He sacrificed himself out of love, yes, but not love for his father."

I looked up at the green, floppy leaf where Enders had been taken, letting myself sit there, silent. I used my right sleeve to wipe the almost dry tears from my cheeks. My voice was hoarse: "A bit more than three months."

Aldridge raised one eyebrow and whistled. "Three months, huh? That's a long time to carry such a heavy secret."

I nodded, picking myself up from the ground, my legs trembling. I struggled to not scream. "Aye, well, that's not the only secret he carried."

It was easier to be angry than it was to be sad. I couldn't say why.

"How did you find out?" I asked, my chin still quivering. My chest pain was starting to subside into something fainter – more made of fire than the water of my tears.

"Your father is a good friend of mine; I knew the moment you arrived." He said, a polite smile on his lips. "He made me vow not to tell a soul. I thought maybe he sent you, to keep you safe." He looked over to the trees at his left before adding, "Little John also knows. He helped Evie and I tend to you when you were ambushed. He found the wrapping at your chest and had Evie take care of you. We're the only four who know, aside from Enders."

I nodded, but remained silent. What was there to say? I'd failed.

I looked back in the direction that Enders had been swept off to. I raised one hand to touch the brim of my hat, which was snugly placed over my brunette hair. "Do you intend to tell Robin?"

"Never." After a moment, he added, "even if I wanted to, your father would kill me if I did."

I nodded and felt the fire in my veins run from my heart down into my arms. Time to go. Taking a knife from my boot, I walked to the leaf I'd seen – the one that had last touched Enders. I grasped it in a gentle hold and cut it at the base, shoving it into my boot, along with the small blade, I turned and walked past Aldridge.

"Back to camp?" Aldridge asked, following me.

I nodded, rolling my shoulders. "Time for a rescue plan."

Aldridge's lips cracked into a smile. "That's the McBride spirit."

Aldridge and I walked in silence, my mind running rescue strategies through in my head. I felt myself getting fatigued at the thought and pushed it aside for the time being. I kept walking, my brain focusing solely on Enders, and the secret he'd kept for so long.

His father was the infamous Robin Hood.

*~*~*

My feet crunched over leaves and twigs as Aldridge and I crossed a boundary line into camp.

I kept my head down, my thoughts running through my head like they were trying to escape my skull. It made sense why Enders trained so hard, why Robin looked familiar to me at times. It explained why Enders showed such distaste when I was given a group of my own and not himself.

Not to mention his resentment toward me, which now felt totally justified. He had resented my every mention of my father, which had annoyed me before but I couldn't stop thinking about how dense I was to not realize it sooner.

When we reached the training area, on the way to Robin's cabin, I turned my head up and stood gaping at the sight.

Every outlaw who wasn't manning the gates sat on the training fields, awaiting instruction and a strategy of attack. Everyone sat in separate groups, with the different people they'd come to know as friends.

The other team had returned and had been informed. Several people – those I recognized and those I did not – were sharpening their swords, practicing with bows and knives, and drinking with each other.

A gathering of these likes was one I'd never seen before, and one I prayed – considering the circumstances – I'd never see again.

"Now that I think about it, they do look damn similar," one man said, taking a bite of his apple, one arm hung over his knee.

"I don't see it," the man's companion replied.

I kept walking, trying to not grit my teeth at their bluntness. This was Enders' private life – something he guarded so close to his heart – and I felt like striking these men who spoke about it so carelessly.

"McBride's here!"

My eyes snapped to the side. Elwin was running toward me, Reggie and Candor chasing after him.

I stopped moving, Aldridge stopping loyally at my side.

"What happened out there?!" Candor shouted, clasping my arm with his – a gesture from his village, I'd discovered.

It's my fault.

"They took Enders." I said, unable to look at them.

Elwin came forward, hands on his hips. "Why?"

My eyes snapped to him and I felt a pang of guilt and hostility rising through my veins.

He saved me.

"He saved us." I said.

"They're saying he's Robin's son." Reggie said, his face scrunched in confusion.

I swallowed and locked eyes with Reggie, my face a mask of fury and pain. "Enders' family is his business." I started forward, past them.

"We deserve to know what we're about to be warring over." Candor shouted after Aldridge and me.

It was loud enough to echo and loud enough to calm the sea of noise around us.

I turned around to face Elwin, scanning the faces of the others who had turned and stared at the scene he had created.

"He's right," Aldridge whispered to me, standing behind me, ever the dutiful gentleman. "Tell them."

There were hundreds of eyes on me, and for a moment I was stunned by their intensity. I knew, though, that some of these eyes would likely go dull when we tried to rescue Enders, and for that, they deserved the truth of their inevitable sacrifice.

I took a deep breath and nodded. My feet moved closer to Elwin, my eyes on the three of my men, but my voice loud enough for the others to hear.

"While patrolling the forest, we came across King Wesley and his army. We were surrounded. He made it clear that we would not survive the battle. Wesley asked for Robin Hood, and when no one came forward, Enders confessed to his parentage. Enders is Robin's lost son and he offered himself as collateral – bait to lure Robin in." I looked around the others in the field.

Everyone had gone silent, coming closer to hear my words.

"I've known him for years now. His name is Enders Hode. How could he be Robin's son?" Alton asked, pushing through the crowd and staring at me with scrunched eyebrow and a gaping jaw.

I shrugged, shifting my weight from my left leg to my right. "He told me once that Enders was a nickname given to him by childhood friends. When he gave himself up, he provided a necklace with a carving of his name and title – Eden Hood, inheritor of the forest."

"How do we know he wasn't lying?" An older man shouted his question.

I arched an eyebrow at the man. "Enders is stubborn. He's loyal. He can be hardheaded and ruthless." I took a step closer, narrowing my eyes. "But, he is no liar."

Everyone stood silent, waiting, looking around at each other like they expected someone to come forward with an anecdote about Enders' getting caught in a lie. It wouldn't happen, because it wasn't in him to tell lies.

Licking my dry lips, I made eye contact with several of the men who encircled me. "To those who were with us during the ordeal, I commend your bravery and loyalty. I expect the same from everyone – whether you witnessed Wesley cruelty today or not – when we rescue Enders from the clutches of the king's army."

Turning away from them, I walked toward Robin's cabin with my head held high and my face twisted in fury. I opened the door, Aldridge following behind me and closing the door after him.

Inside, Robin stood hunched over the table, examining a map of Newark Castle and the forestry around it.

Next to him stood Will Scarlett, who had his arms mostly crossed, with his right hand under his chin as he stared down at a different map. Two other men stood off to the sides, leaning against the walls. I'd recognized the men, but they weren't the type that trained. I guessed they'd been in Sherwood for a while and were several ranks above me.

Little John stood in one of the corners, lost in his thoughts for a moment before stepping forward and looking at the map of the castle.

"We could go around the west bank and head toward the drawbridge." Will Scarlett offered, looking over the map, momentarily moving his hand from his chin to speak.

Robin shook his head, keeping his eyes still on the map. "No," he pointed to the entrance, lifting his head to look at Will. "They'd pick up the bridge. That's the reason they have it there."

I waited, leaning up against the door post, my arms crossed, and my eyes twisted in distaste.

Silence followed for a moment before it dawned on Robin that I was there. "You need something, McBride?"

I shook my head, my thoughts racing as I looked at the map from afar. "No, but I'd like to listen if that's alright with you."

Robin thought for a moment and let his eyes fall to the floor at my feet. Finally, he nodded and turned back to the map.

"What about going through the east plateau to attack?" One of the other men asked, stepping closer to the map and pointing to an area.

Again, Robin shook his head and pointed to an area close to where the other man had pointed. "The king trains his soldiers for the sole purpose of an attack here. They have specific drills for that very situation."

The man nodded, somewhat disgruntled and stepped away.

I contemplated for a moment before I stepped forward and pointed to the south end of the castle. "Attack through the southern infirmary. It's practically abandoned since they built the new one on this west side." I sighed and looked over the map. "Send a distraction this way," I said moving my finger up gently, to the east. "Most of the king's units would move away from the southern end. King Wesley is smart, so he'll expect a distraction, but he won't expect an attack anywhere except the opposite end." I took a step backward and crossed my arms again, still looking down at the map.

The men all had their eyes on me, and while I had just had hundreds of eyes on me and felt no awkwardness, I felt it now. I thought it was partly because these were experienced fighters and I was nothing compared to them, and partly because I was speaking to the man who was intended to be my father-in-law.

I shrugged, stepping back toward the door post where I had slouched before. "Enders is probably being kept in the middle of the castle, on the most bottom floor. We'll have to fight a lot of men no matter where we go. We just have to make sure we don't get boxed in."

Robin looked up at me, his eyes looking me over with inquisitive eyes. "You're definitely your father's son." He mumbled, almost disgruntled. Tilting the map, he surveyed the lines.

I reached my fingertips to the brim of my hat, waiting for him to say something.

His mouth hung slightly ajar at the new perspective on the map.

I looked at Robin, caught completely off-guard by the angle. I let my jaw drop because it looked like I was seeing the future, like I was getting a glimpse of Enders in twenty years. They both had the same brown hair, although Enders was much more brown and sleek. Robin's had become gray with age, although his brown locks remained throughout the gray clouds. I noticed his brown eyes and the way he looked so concentrated, the same way Enders did. They were more similar than anyone had realized. Then again, Enders had been careful to keep it that way.

Robin looked over the map as he raised a hand, pointing toward me. "I like that plan," He said, his eyes slightly widening. "That will work!" He exclaimed, looking hopeful for the first time that evening.

I widened my eyes. I hadn't expect him to listen, but I felt renewed excitement that he had. "Really?" I pushed myself off the post and stood alert. "When do we leave?"

Robin sighed. "The king's men will be on full alert for an attack for the next few weeks, and we don't have the resources to march on Newark Castle."

My relief died, replaced with dread. "Weeks?"

Robin barely paid any mind to me. "Aye. We've lost a lot of the resources we would need to fight anybody, never mind the royal cavalry."

I felt my heart pause with disgust. With the calmest voice I could muster, I said: "Your son is captured and you're going to wait weeks to advance rescue efforts?"

I took one step forward, immediately feeling two large hands on my shoulders. "Henry," Will Scarlett warned me. His hands tugged me backward by my shirt.

"No!" I raised my voice. "You can't do that!"

Robin raised an eyebrow, taken aback by my flare of anger. "Henry, we don't have the resources. We--"

"He's your son!" I tried to take another step forward, but quickly felt the slender arm of Will Scarlett grab my shoulder and pull me back again. "How can you let your son sit in a massive castle where he could be slaughtered at any moment!?"

"Henry, we can't--" Robin began, but couldn't finish his words.

"You ruined his life! You have ruined so many lives!" I cried out, Will Scarlett pulling my arm back when I tried to move forward. I viciously shook him off, taking a small step forward. "You acted like a damn hero! You made yourself a symbol! You swept in and treated everyone kindly when King Wesley increased taxes and when he attacked the poor! You made people believe in you! You became all things to all men!" I tried again to step forward, but was quickly pulled back by my midsection and temporarily lifted off the ground. I let out an angry growl as Will Scarlett put me back on the floor. "You filled our citizens with hope, and in return, you destroyed their lives!"

"Henry!" Robin shouted. He slammed his hands on the table before him. His eyes were angry, eyebrows knitted together as he watched me.

"You could go and rescue him. You could send out the efforts you have, but you refuse to use whatever you've got." I accused, my voice now at an acceptable pitch. "You've ruined the most lives, not by the sword, but by your words. The least you could do is take care of your own son."

Robin stared me, at a loss for words.

I'd hit him where it hurt, and I was not in the least sorry. I saw the fury behind those eyes and while I should have been worried about the consequences of my rant, I wasn't.

"Ugh," I said, giving a guttural sound of disgust. Unable to stand being in the same room as Robin Hood any longer, I shrugged Will Scarlett off and shook my shirt once, giving one last angry look at Robin Hood before opening the door and slamming it shut behind me.

At first, I was just going to go back to my cabin and think about what to do, but as I stepped down the wooden steps of Robin's abode, I saw everyone's expectant eyes on me.

I faltered for a moment, seeing their shocked eyes on me. Swallowing down a stab of surprise at their eyes, I stomped forward, feeling the rush of the wind push around my ears as I marched through the sea of men on the training fields.

"We're not going anywhere, are we?" Alton's voice rang out.

My feet stopped in the grass, my whole body going still as stone. I felt my pulse in my ears as I turned toward him.

He stood in front of a crowd of men, all silent as they waited for me to give them the truth.

And, the truth I shall give.

I shook my head. "Robin will not be giving the order to set out today."

"They'll kill him!" Another man named Andrew cried out.

I recognized him as one of Enders' good friends. His words rang out in my head.

My fault. This is all my fault. My veins turned to ice. I can't let him die.

I wracked my brain for anything, lifting my hand to the brim of my hat, slipping my fingertips inside the fabric, and touching the strands of hair that sat folded under it.

A thought hit me like a wooden sword from the training fields.

Wesley takes in stranded women to be castle-hands...

Staring at the men whose eyes peered into me like they awaited the meaning of life, I kicked over a crate and stood upon it so I could see over the men before me. "Rescue efforts have not, and will not, be announced. The leader amongst us has decided that rescue is not the best option right now. But, I will not sit idly by and let Enders be killed!"

Several of the men looked at each other. Most men, I assumed, sat shocked because they couldn't believe the mutiny happening before their very eyes. Silence only dominated for a second.

"King Wesley takes kindly to stranded and injured civilians, predominantly women. I plan to make my way into the castle under that pretense. Anybody is welcome to join me. Regardless of any raised opposition, I will be leaving and attempting to rescue Enders. Tonight."

I saw Robin's cabin door open, revealing a dismayed and enraged Robin Hood. He stood watching the spectacle I was making, his forearms leaning against the railings of the cabin porch.

I continued, my eyes on him during my next words: "seeing as his very own father refuses to save him."

I almost faltered, seeing Robin's eyes grow more furious with every passing second.

One man in front of me, beside Alton, chuckled before he spoke. "So, you're going to pretend an injury so you can sneak into the castle and rescue Enders from the inside?" The man's raised eyebrow was mocking. His hair had some interwoven gray strands and his face wore the look of a seasoned warrior. "You said yourself the king takes in mostly women. He'll never take in an outlaw who staggers into the path of his horses." He looked to the man on his left, who wore a sad look. "McBride's boy thinks he could pass for a woman."

I felt the rage in my heart spillover it's limit. My anger had already gotten the best of me and if I didn't get a grip on it soon, I would do something irrational.

"That's because I am not Harrison McBride's son." I seethed, the words coming out of my mouth before I had a chance to think about it.

Turns out it was too late for rationality.

There was a sudden quietness.

I raised my hand to my head and tugged off my hat. My hair cascaded around my shoulders, its bouncing curls catching the sunlight.

Most of the men let their jaws go slack and hang down upon the sight of me. I ran one hand through my hair and looked over the men.

"I am Harrison McBride's daughter."

### Chapter Twenty-four

The men in the training fields had a calmness around them that only lasted for a few seconds before murmurs and whispers broke out, some were screaming of the blasphemy.

I ran one hand through my hair again, letting my arms hang down at my sides with my hat in hand. My eyes narrowed at Robin Hood, who stood an entire field away. I could see his mouth hanging wide open, his eyes large and surprised. How could he have let a woman into his recruitment? How could he have not noticed?

Little John and Aldridge both looked worried. But, there was something else there too; pride maybe? Maybe they were relieved to see I'd taken things into my own hands.

"You're a woman?" The man who'd doubted me asked.

"Aye," I said, finally using my normal voice again – and, it felt damn good. My eyes landed on him with irritation and pride. I raised an angry eyebrow at him. "Seems to me that Harrison McBride raised one damn good daughter."

The man looked dumbfounded.

I refused to let my eyes rest on him. I moved them around the crowd, spotting several people I'd been close with during my stay.

Reggie, for one, looked a little hurt. I could only guess that was because I hadn't told him.

Candor and Elwin, on the other hand looked upon me in shock and delight. I wanted to roll my eyes; the two were mischievous, as always. I couldn't tell what exactly they were thinking.

"That's why my plan will work," I said, anger still in my voice, "Whether anyone is with me or not." I stepped down off the crate. My stride was tall, long, and confident. I was headed toward the little cabin I stayed in. I didn't know what I was going to do next, what was going to happen, or when I was going to leave, but I knew I had to pack my things. In either case, I wouldn't be given the safety of Sherwood any longer.

I'd been walking for about ten seconds when Little John approached me and took my arm. "Come with me."

I raised an eyebrow, stopping in my tracks, my hat hanging gently from my hand, Little John's hand holding onto my skin with an iron grip. "Why?"

He contemplated lying to me, and I could tell from his reaction that he didn't want to tell me the truth. "Robin would like a word with you."

I nodded. I felt a sick smile creep onto my face. I immediately suppressed it, not liking the way it felt on my skin. I looked to the left, at the river and the bridge. "Tell him I'm busy with a rescue effort."

Little John tilted his head, his eyes looking tired and strained. "Harlow," He said my name as a warning.

It was strange to hear my own name, but I brushed off the feeling, holding tightly onto the anger I had inside of me.

I sighed, my lips cutting into a tight line. "He's going to make me leave Sherwood."

Little John sighed. He kept his eyes even on me. "Aye. He's going to make you leave. He wouldn't be Robin Hood if he didn't."

I nodded, casting my eyes down.

"But, you wouldn't be a McBride if you didn't completely defy him until the end."

I let my eyes meet his. I saw the reassuring smile on his lips, and the twinkle of mischief behind his eyes.

"Fine."

Little John let go of my arm, knowing that I'd be walking alongside him. He kept a protective watch out for the men in our path. None of them would do anything irrational, but leave it to Little John to always be on the alert.

When we got to the cabin, Little John opened the door and waited for me to go in.

I raised an eyebrow. "Stop doing that."

Little John was taken slightly aback. "Doing what?"

"Treating me like a woman," I huffed, stepping inside after realizing how ridiculous the request was.

Robin stood inside the cabin, his arms crossed and his eyes narrowing. Upon seeing me, he shook his head, trying to find words to say.

I waited silently for him to start his lecture.

Robin stuttered, trying to find something to say. He was angry, and he was trying to hold himself together. "Why?"

I chuckled. "Ya' know, that's exactly what Enders asked me." I was determined to get under his skin and I knew that Enders was just the way to do that.

"Enders knew?" Robin asked, his eyebrows raising in alarm.

"Aye," I said, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, one leg in front of the other. I raised an eyebrow at him after a second. "Did you think he gave himself up for you?"

The anger in Robin's eyes almost made me shiver. "How long had he known?"

I looked to the ground for a moment. My smile dropped and my demeanor lost it's hard exterior. "He'd found out when we were ambushed during the raid you demanded we do."

Robin's irritation grew. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. "We're sending you to Barnsdale in the morrow."

I laughed. "Aye?" Then, I slammed my palms down on the table, facing his angry glares with a glare of my own, my laugh gone. "Barnsdale is in ruins by now."

Robin turned to me, fire in his eyes. "Barnsdale is doing fine, and that's where you'll be going."

I shook my head. "I'll leave, but I'm not going to Barnsdale."

Robin rolled his eyes. "Little John," He said, addressing him. "For the love of God, get her a dress and wake her up by dawn. Have her horse ready."

I shook my head in frustration. "Arrange whatever you like. I assure you it will not be working."

Robin scowled. "Take her to one of the vacant cabins and have her rest all afternoon. Stand guard at the door and let no one in that cabin." He said, turning around and staring at one of the maps on the table before him.

"Miss McBride," Little John said reluctantly as he turned to face me.

"Don't," I hissed as sharply as I could, "call me that." I warned, narrowing my eyes at him before turning to the door and jerking it open. I let it hang on its hinges as Little John walked behind me.

I walked to my cabin and gathered my things, Little John standing just inside the door frame. I hated that I was doing this, but I opted to do it anyway, knowing that Robin's alertness would go down if I obeyed a few commands.

"So, you've been sleeping in this cabin with twelve other men for almost a full year?" Little John asked, looking around the messy cabin.

Clothing had been strewn everywhere and it smelled like sweat and metal.

I nodded. "Aye."

"How did no one find out?" Little John asked incredulously, more to himself than to me.

"Someone did find out," I said, picking up my blanket and rolling it tightly before shoving it into my bag, "and he's halfway to death by now."

"Aye," Little John said, "but that was a completely different situation." He wandered to where I knelt and picked up a renegade blade, stabbing it into the windowsill and leaving it out of anyone's way.

"Aye," I said, thinking back, "aye, it was." I slung my bag onto my back and turned to face him.

Little John nodded, seeing that I was ready, and led me out of the building and toward a vacant cabin on the other end of the town center and market.

As I approached the cabin, I pulled my hat back on and tucked all my strands of hair into the brim. Little John turned just as I secured the hat and looked at me oddly. "Well," he said, waving a hand in the direction of the cabin porch and door. "Here you are."

I nodded, unhappy about the situation. I took two steps up the porch, looking down as I did so, debating with myself how far I'd get if I ran. I concluded I'd get about six feet before being dragged back.

Realizing, and temporarily accepting defeat, I turned back to the man behind me. "John," I called his name. "You and my father are good friends?"

"Aye, we are. Why is it you ask?" He folded his hands together before taking a step closer to the porch, resting one hand on his hip and the other on the railing.

"Did he tell you anything about my mother?" I asked, keeping my voice low and even, as to not receive any unwanted attention.

Little John looked slightly taken aback. He shifted nervously, looking to his left and then his right. "He doesn't talk about her often, but he's mentioned a few things."

I nodded, clutching my bag tighter with one hand as I stood. "I can't go to Barnsdale." I said, looking at him for the first time, with a gentle, pleading expression. "If you know anything about my mother, then you'll understand that I have to save Enders."

His face changed.

I couldn't say how exactly.

Deciding that it was time to plan, I turned and entered the cabin, closing the door quietly behind me. Immediately, I threw down my bag and started pulling out maps that I'd taken from home upon my departure.

I would be going through with my plan. I'd make it into Newark Castle. I'd save Enders. Even if it took my last breath to do.

### Chapter Twenty-five

Darkness fell over the occupants of Sherwood, engulfing them in the unknown of night.

I sat, nervously in my cabin, looking from the door to the window every few seconds. Sure, Little John would be on the other side of the door, but the window didn't feel like a better option.

I stood quietly and peered out the window.

The view was intimidating. Robin Hood's cabin stood just on the other side of a burning fire, his window in total harmony with mine, giving him a view of me through his own glass.

It wasn't a question of how I wanted to leave, it was a question of who I'd rather deal with to leave.

I moved to the window overlooking the front porch of the cabin. I couldn't see him, but I knew Little John would be waiting for me to attempt escape.

I opted for the front door, unwilling to deal with Robin Hood.

Quickly, I walked to the bed that I'd placed my bag on. It wasn't heavy, seeing as I'd discarded all my irrelevant items, carrying only a few knives and some necessities.

I spotted the dress Little John had been ordered to bring me, sitting precariously on the bed. I gave the fabric a look of distaste before shoving it in my bag and throwing the bag over my shoulder.

Moving to the door, I turned the knob softly, trying my best to be as quiet as possible. I'd taken about three steps out the door, closed it quietly, and turned around before noticing Little John looming over me, his arms folded and staring at me with curious eyes.

"I think you and I both know you're not supposed to be leaving this cabin." He said, his eyebrows raised and bent inward.

I sighed, turning my head away from him and tugging the hat off my head in frustration, dropping my bag on the porch.

"Go back in," Little John nodded to the cabin behind me.

I stayed silent for a moment before I found the courage to speak against him. "No." I said calmly, looking over his shoulder and toward the world beyond.

Little John kept one eyebrow raised. "No?"

I nodded, crossing my arms as I stared up into his eyes defiantly. "That's exactly what I said." I kept my voice even as I spoke. "I won't go back in this cabin. I have responsibilities. I have someone to save," I said. I tried to cling to the sternness in my voice as much as I could. "My citizen. He is one of my people. Our people. He's Enders, for God's sake."

Little John simply stared at me.

"You know who my mother was," I said, my eyes focusing on his, reading his every reaction. "You know who I am. Who would I be if I didn't try to save him?"

Little John stood still for a few long seconds, before a smile crept onto his face. "I understand what you're capable of. You just needed to hear it from your own mouth." He told me in a deep voice. "You've got until dawn breaks to run. Robin will be all over Sherwood searching for you after that point." Little John said, taking a step to the side.

I felt relief flood my body. "Understood."

"Now, you've got an outlaw to save, your highness." Little John said, still smiling confidently at me. I felt an undesirable chill cover my body.

I widened my eyes at him, wasting no time in grabbing my bag and barreling down the steps. "Thank you," I murmured to him before taking the last step.

"Harlow," Little John called before I got too far away. I turned around, still taking a few steps backward. "You're going to make one damn good queen."

I took two more steps backward before slowing down for just a second. I felt my stomach drop at the thought.

Queen? I don't want to be queen.

I pushed the thought to the back of my mind, spinning around and racing off into the night. I didn't want to be queen. I only wanted to save Enders.

*~*~*

I knew I didn't have time to spare. Without giving anything much more thought, I vaulted over random logs and pushed my legs as fast as I could, crunching random branches in my wake.

Throughout the night, I would slow to a walk and then speed up after I'd caught my breath. I knew I had several cuts on my face from branches that fell in my path.

My legs were exhausted and my body cried for water that I didn't have. I'd been running for hours, that much I knew.

The sky started to lighten, indicating the rising sun.

I felt myself rushing toward it as if I needed it. The moon light wasn't enough to light my path, but I knew that when the sun came up, I'd be hunted down like a wild animal.

I finally slowed down when I came to a dirt pathway, just as the sun came up over the horizon.

Seeing the pathway, I went several yards back into Sherwood forest and shrugged off my bag. I set the pack down on a log, letting my lungs heave in and out, making sure to keep as quiet as possible. I rummaged through my things, finding the small, blue dress that Little John had taken to my cabin the night before.

I eyed it, almost distastefully.

As quickly and quietly as possible, I discarded my boyish clothes and forced myself into the dress that seemed to be made specifically for me.

It wasn't uncomfortable, but I certainly didn't like how it felt. I looked down, holding the dress' fabric in my dirty, cut-up hands. It was the comparison between my hands and the fabric that made me realize that the dress was too clean. No one would believe I'd been running for my life in such a well-preserved dress.

Quickly, I picked up a random branch and started tattering the clothing. I made one long cut to the skirt of the fabric, placing another through the fabric on my upper arm.

Determining that two large holes and several smaller ones would look legitimate enough, I wiped all the blood from my hands and legs on the dress, in areas that seemed appropriate.

Then, I took a blade and a branch in both my hands. Drawing the blade over my skin, I made cuts along the tattering parts of my dress, irritating the new slices with the branch to dirty the area. I knew I risked an infection like this, but I had no choice. If they suspected me of lying, I would likely be killed.

After the cuts were made, I reached down to the forest floor and drew up a ball of dirt in my hands, smudging and destroying my dress with it.

I threw myself on the ground, making smudge and dirt spots on the blue fabric. I gave myself one more look-over. Good, I thought.

Carefully peeking at each end of the road, I propelled myself to the other side of the pathway, and turned my back to the forest, as if stumbling out of the woods.

I laid in wait for two terrifying hours before a caravan and two horsemen came trotting down the pathway. The men in the caravan were merchants, dressed in luxurious robes and fine clothing, but the men on horseback were not. They were soldiers; royal knights.

Calculating the perfect timing, I threw myself into the pathway just to the side of the horsemen and caravan.

Their shock and surprise gave me some confidence.

"Help me! Please!" I cried, my eyes dramatically glazing over in turmoil. I made my breathing labored and ragged.

A soldier immediately hopped off his horse and ran to my side, taking my arm gently and attempting to keep me upright.

I leaned into him, disgusted by my own act; but nevertheless, doing what needed to be done.

All things considered, I was impressed by my work.

"My lady, what has happened to you?" One of the horsemen asked, his arm trying to keep me stable.

I looked up from the tops of my eyelids and stared at him for a moment, my sweat-drenched hair hanging in my eyes.

"Outlaws," I breathed out heavily, my heart dropping at the very word.

If I had already stressed Robin out with my escape, I figured I could make up for it with a lie. I knew that I had come from the northwest.

"They came from the south."

### Chapter Twenty-six

I had been sitting in the caravan for at least an hour. The horsemen had ordered the merchant to make some room for me. They'd wrapped a linen blanket around my shoulders and told me to relax. I'd pretended to fall asleep for some time, trying to keep my breathing easy and light.

"What should we do with her?" One of the horsemen asked the other.

"I'm not sure," the one who'd rushed to my side spoke, "we could take her to the monastery."

"They already have too many refugees staying there." The other, older horseman countered.

"I suppose the king will want to see her. He has voiced his desire for new maid-hands around the castle." The younger soldier sounded almost bored.

"Yes, but that outlaw was recently taken in. She may not be comfortable in the castle." The older one said.

Outlaw? My heart skidded to a halt, and I had to work to keep my breathing normal.

"What the king wants, the king gets," the young knight sighed heavily as he spoke. "She would never see the outlaw, anyway."

The older man huffed. "I'm surprised we haven't killed him yet."

A silent breath of relief escaped me. Enders was alive.

"He's important to capturing the rest of them, and King Wesley is determined to find who he's looking for." The younger man countered as they trotted off.

The conversation died slowly, but my ears remained perked for a while.

Me. He was looking for me. It was at that thought that I realized I was going into the belly of the beast.

I was terrified about going to Newark Castle, but I hoped that I would be taken in by the king regardless of my fear. If I wasn't taken into the castle to become a permanent resident, I would never be able to rescue Enders. He would probably die there if I sat back and did nothing.

I made myself dead-like, letting blood and sweat mingle on my skin.

As the caravan exited Sherwood sometime later, I breathed out a sigh of relief, knowing that the easiest part was over – if you considered running away from outlaws easy.

It was always darkest before the dawn, and dawn certainly hadn't come yet.

*~*~*

I tried hard to fight the drowsiness that fell over me. I found myself aching from the cuts and bruises after running through the forest all night. Before I realized it, I'd been asleep in the caravan next to the merchant who'd reluctantly approved my presence.

It had to have been hours since I'd fallen asleep. I barely felt the caravan stop moving. I heard the noises of the horses as they trotted to the stables. I drifted in and out of consciousness as the horsemen spoke softly to the caravan driver.

It took me a full minute to realize that my body had been lifted and was being carried somewhere. I became extremely aware of everything around me, having to fight the urge to open my eyes and harm the person who carried me.

Living in Sherwood had certainly changed me.

Instead, I listened intently to the sound of the soldier's boots on timber floor. I heard speaking and snoring.

"Marlene," the person carrying me called a foreign name. His voice was quiet and familiar: the man who had rushed to my aid.

"Oh, Parker!" An older woman exclaimed, her voice coming closer with every phoneme. "What's happened?"

"Outlaws." Parker said.

I noted the total distaste in his voice.

"They must have raided her cart and chased after her. It looks like she's been running all night."

Sounds like a clever story. Thank you, Parker.

"Oh, dear," the woman's voice moved further away. Then, I heard the creak of the door.

The knight – Parker – had started moving, my body still limp in his arms. I felt the hardness of wood underneath me as the man lowered me onto a table, slow and easy – as if I were a glass that could break if he moved too quickly.

"Is she conscious?" Marlene asked, rummaging around in the room.

"I believe she's asleep." Parker told her, sighing. "I thought you should have a look at her."

Marlene found whatever she had been looking for and took a sigh of relief. "Yes, I will have a look," she said, "but she looks fine, only a little bruised up."

"Okay," Parker's voice hinted concern, if not distant. "I'll come back when I've met with the king as to what we're to do with her."

"I'll make her comfortable in the meantime." Marlene said with what sounded like a smile.

I heard the door open and close.

Parker had left.

I kept still, trying to keep my breathing even. Eventually, I'd decided enough time had passed. I had become restless and couldn't lay still any longer. I fidgeted slightly, taking in a drowsy breath of air.

Slowly, I propped myself up on my aching arms. Immediately, I noticed the cuts on my arms and body. I was still in the dress I'd put on that morning, but now the fabric was ripped and damaged beyond what any seamstress could fix.

The pain I felt was mild, but I decided that it was best to over-exaggerate. I gasped at the sight of my arms and started to tremble in the most realistic manner I could come up with.

"Well, hello there." Marlene said, a ball of yarn sitting in her lap and a hook hanging between her fingers.

I looked up but said nothing. After looking myself over again, I made my eyes wide and looked around the room. "Where am I?"

What I didn't expect was my voice to be so hoarse.

Marlene knitted her eyebrows together and shifted the yarn off her lap. She moved into a chair closer to me. "I'm Marlene. Do you remember your name?"

"Harlow."

"How much do you remember, Harlow?"

I shook my head a little bit. I'd decided to go with the story Parker had unknowingly suggested. "I've spent all night running from the outlaws in Sherwood. They raided my father's caravan."

Marlene nodded, "Do you know where your father is now?" She moved to the front of the table that I sat on.

My eyes looked away, feigning discomfort and letting fake tears well up in my eyes. "He was killed trying to protect me." It was a lie, and I felt wrong about it, but I saw no other option.

"Oh," Marlene said. The sympathy in her eyes was excruciating. "I'm sorry for your loss."

I tried to act nervous and scared – which wasn't too hard to do, really. Nervousness came easy to me, but I had to fight the urge to look around the room like I was ready for someone to attack me.

"Do you have anyone else to go to?"

I silently shook my head.

Marlene nodded and turned her attention to the yarn that sat in a chair in the corner. "Well, I'm sure you'll like it here."

I looked up, letting my eyes fall on Marlene.

Marlene was older but not elderly. Her black hair had been covered in gray strands with some age. She seemed happy, although she lived in this dark, cold castle. Her smile and laugh wrinkles were a testament to an apparently happy life.

I started to let my eyes wander over the room, examining every object I could see. I wondered if Marlene had seen Enders, if she had examined him. Had he laid on this same table?

There wasn't much to look at in the room, so I laid back down and let myself feel the pulsating of my limbs as my muscles ached.

I closed my eyes as I laid there, waiting for any sign of what was supposed to be happening next. Instead of talking and breaking the silence in the room, I remained silent. Where would they put me? I felt my blood run cold when I wondered if I'd ever come face-to-face with Wesley. Would he recognize me if we did? Would he know who I was?

Waiting in the caravan wasn't so bad when I felt my mind slipping away from me in the drowsiness of sleep, but here on this table, my mind was going so fast I couldn't keep up.

A small knock-knock at the door made me snap into a sitting position.

"Come in!" Marlene shouted. She had moved back to her previous chair, the yarn and hook in her lap.

My eyes went to the door. The wood was chipped, and not well maintained, but it still worked the way it was supposed to so I didn't see it as a problem. It struck me as strange though, that any place in Newark Castle would be even remotely worn-out.

The door opened with a loud squeak, revealing a young man, maybe half a decade older than me. His hair was a sun-kissed brunette color, hanging just above his brown eyes. He was muscular and wore knight's chain-mail, which looked anything but unattractive. He was handsome, but his expression was strained and he looked unhappy.

"Hello, Marlene." He said, looking to the older woman as he closed the door behind him. He looked to me. "Hello."

I nodded in response, sitting up straighter and fixing my posture. I forgot I wasn't supposed to slouch like that anymore. "Hello."

"How are you?" He asked me, standing still and tense by the door.

"Fine," I answered, nodding my head and offering a small smile. "I cannot thank you enough for your bravery in saving me." I feigned happiness and forced myself to seem overwhelmed with joy.

"No need to thank me," Parker smiled, bowing his head a bit. He attempted to look modest, but his pride was shadowed behind his eyes.

Tilting my head, I studied him. He's kind, especially for a knight... How many of this man's friends have I killed?

"It is my duty to make sure civilians are safe in Sherwood." Parker said, letting the conversation die there.

I gave a polite smile before turning my eyes away. It was weird for me, to hear everyone's thoughts on the place and people I'd come to love.

Sherwood wasn't that bad, right?

"Well, I think it's time we show Ms. Harlow to her room, right, Parker?" Marlene spoke up.

Parker nodded. "Yes, the king is otherwise disposed and has instructed me to allow you residence in the castle-hands' quarters." I couldn't ignore the smile that flashed across his face, but I refused to acknowledge it.

"I'm staying here?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

Parker turned his eyes, suppressing a happy gaze. "Yes. King Wesley has decreed you a necessary help."

I nodded, wondering how many people had been trapped living as a castle-hand when all they wanted was temporary refuge.

I slid off the edge of the table and planted my feet on the floor. I wobbled back and forth for a moment before I felt stable enough to walk. I brushed off my bottom and the front of my dress and looked up at Parker, who kept his eyes on me as if I might fall over any second.

"Ready?" He asked, as if he'd been lost in thought. His short, bronzed hair swung just above his eyes, and I couldn't really ignore it. It was so familiar to me – exactly like what Enders' hair did when he let it grow, which he had lately because he'd been so busy trying to help me.

I snapped my eyes to the door, ignoring the reverberating pang of pain that sat in my stomach. Enders was here somewhere and I needed to find him.

Parker nodded a goodbye to Marlene before walking toward the door, and turning to wait for me to follow.

"Come back if you feel ill, Ms. Harlow." Marlene called after me, and I felt so overwhelmed that all I could do was nod and offer the woman a small smile.

Parker opened the door and waited for me to exit before closing it behind himself. His armor clinked together as we trudged down the corridors.

Large, maroon curtains sat from the high ceiling and cascaded down to the floor in a waterfall of elegant fabric.

I raised an eyebrow at the darkness.

The light that kept the hallways bright came only from torches that had been lit on every wall. They hung one every four or five feet. It wasn't too bright, but it was enough to see what you were doing.

The further we moved into the castle, the darker it became, the less torches lined the walls, the more despairing it seemed. I felt almost mortified by the idea of being stuck behind these curtains.

I wondered, longingly, when I would see the sun next.

"Parker," I said, grabbing his attention and making him tilt his head to look at me. "Why are these curtains here? Is no one allowed outside?"

Parker was silent for a moment. He took in a deep breath and used the authority in his voice when he spoke. "These curtains are for our protection against outlaws and thieves. As you may know, the outlaws of Sherwood are our biggest threat and these curtains are designed to make them unaware of what we are doing inside these walls. You understand how cruel Robin and his men are. It's something we have to do to survive."

I let my jaw drop. This was all wrong. This wasn't how things really were, right? I found myself doubting everything I knew. But, only for a split second.

Wesley had attacked my village. He had murdered innocent families.

The outlaws had taken the remaining families in.

I thought for a second how to word this before I opened my mouth to speak: "I've seen the outlaws' savagery first-hand, but what else have they done to warrant large curtains like these?"

Parker glanced at me, reluctant to indulge information, it seemed.

I waited, patiently, unwilling to give up my snooping.

"Robin Hood and his band of thieves attacked Dexthorpe and Saxilby. Our surveyors went to the village remains and saw that nobody survived the attacks." Parker announced it matter-of-factly, but his face drew in solemnly.

"Robin and his thieves did that?" I could hear the panic in my own voice, but I knew he would interpret the tone incorrectly. I knew he thought I was nervous about outlaw attacks, but, really, I was devastated that Robin and my outlaws had been implicated as the perpetrators.

It wasn't true. I knew for a hardened fact that it was not true. My father rode into Sherwood and told all of us about the destruction the knights rained upon Dexthorpe. He told everyone about the way they slaughtered women and children so easily. There was no way he would have lied about something so tragic.

So, that only left one option as to how this happened: Wesley had changed the story. He made Robin out to be the evil person in all of this. But, why?

I shook my head and glanced around the hallway we were walking down. I cleared my throat, hoping it would help clear my thoughts, but it did nothing to drive away the fog of tears that wanted to escape my eyes. Things had somehow become so wrong.

Stay focused, Harlow.

"So, the curtains are for protection, then?" I asked.

Parker nodded. "This is a...sanctuary of sorts. King Wesley keeps us protected and we do his bidding. For me, that means I go out and battle for him. For you, it means that you will do whatever chores need to be done around here."

I arched an eyebrow at him. "What about when I wish to leave?"

Parker tilted his head at me. "You will not wish to. It is a dangerous world – as you have seen. You are safe here."

I nodded as understanding dawned on me. I couldn't leave. If I didn't find Enders and escape quickly, I would never leave. It sickened me to the depths of my soul that he would manipulate his servants into never leaving his castle, but I kept a mild expression.

Parker led me around a corner and toward a room at the end of the hall. "These are the sleeping quarters. You'll be staying here."

I noted that there was no more to add. I nodded and looked to the set of double-doors. It was large and almost worn out. One hinge was broken toward the middle. I turned to the set of doors and laid my hand on the handle for a second before pushing them open. I looked around, seeing it almost abandoned.

Parker raised an eyebrow. "Everybody must be working around the castle. The Spring Feast is almost upon us."

I simply nodded again. I couldn't care enough to ask what the Spring Feast was, but it sounded important. I made a note to ask at some point.

"You should rest now. Your bed is the last one at far end of the room. You will start in the kitchen tomorrow morning," Parker said.

I smiled. The kitchen. How ironic that my father – the cook – had stolen me away from here, and I somehow ended up doing the same work he did.

"Good night, Ms. Harlow." Parker bowed his head and turned away from me, heading back the way he'd come.

It occurred to me the moment he left that I had no idea where the kitchen was, so I'd have to ask someone in the morning.

I walked into the boring room that held only dingy beds and shabby nightstands. The brown wooden walls smiled despicably down on me with every step I took. Flaming torches hung from the walls, letting the light bounce around, but leaving the dark corners unlit.

It wasn't enough. The room shook me from the inside out. I felt like maybe I'd lost my fight as the door slid shut behind me and I stood in the dim lighting.

It was in a daze that I walked to my assigned bed and collapsed on it. I was exhausted and my eyes dragged. My mind ran with thoughts of Sherwood and Enders.

I was asleep again before I could re-think my decision to come to Newark Castle.

*~*~*

There was a window. It was a large arch framed of wood that sat at the end of a hall and cut to the right in a strange dead end. At the dead end was a wooden bench that sat positioned toward the arched window.

It would have been perfect if a gargantuan, maroon curtain didn't sit over the window and keep me hidden from the moonlight.

I sat cross-legged on the bench on my sixth day as a kitchen servant. I had tried to fall asleep two hours ago, but found myself wide awake and unable to rest. I'd found the small nook by accident, when I'd been trying to bring food to Marlene. Since that time yesterday, I'd determined that it was the perfect place for alone time.

I stared ahead, the only light coming from the torches that lined the walls at my right. It was darker than normal, I noted, looking at the maroon curtain that hung over the archway. I took in all the detail, noticing that this would have been the perfect spot to see the moon.

If only I could open this curtain...

I'd attempted to do that the previous day, but was immediately and frighteningly discouraged from doing so. The servants and soldiers were afraid of outlaws, since Sherwood sat so close to Newark Castle. I pretended ignorance and told them I was so sorry, and that I had no idea that the outlaws could be close by.

Realistically, I was dying to see the moon and stars.

I heard someone walking down the hallway, but made no attempt to move.

I was tired, and of course, no one really knew this dead end was here – from what I had been able to tell, anyway. It was kind of dusty and dirty, as if it hadn't been cleaned in a while. No one really checked on this small section of the hall.

The footsteps got louder, but I assumed that they would fade into the sleeping quarters. Instead, they headed straight toward me, in a tired, dazed way.

My heart raced in my chest.

It was too late to move.

I turned my head when a body rounded the corner and stopped in surprise upon seeing my sitting form.

I raised an eyebrow. I wasn't in much a mood to talk, but when I saw the sun-kissed hair and the under armor of a soldier, I immediately felt the need to guess who it was. "Sir Parker?"

That was another thing I'd discovered in the kitchen this morning: Parker was the leader of all the soldiers in the castle. He was literally the person in charge of military affairs. I felt almost vulnerable when I thought back about how nonchalant I'd treated him. He was a threat to me, given my status in Sherwood.

It was still hard for me to remember that I wasn't a soldier here. I was just a servant girl – which, I realized, was an advantage if I could figure out how to use it.

The man tilted his head, a small smile on his lips. He nodded. "Simply Parker, is fine." He took a few steps toward me, his body aching for a seat on the bench next to me. I uncrossed my legs, noting that the position wasn't very lady-like in my dress, and moved over so he could have a seat.

Every time I saw him around the castle, I made it a point to say hello. He was a knight after all – and there weren't that many in the entire royal army, considering that knights needed noble blood and wealth to be knights; the other guards were just soldiers. He could prove to be an important asset in my quest to set Enders free.

But, on the other hand, every time I saw him, I felt an ache in my chest. I'd been a leader too; a leader of a small unit of Sherwood outlaws.

We were complete opposites, sitting together on this bench.

He looked down at his hands in his lap. After a moment, he tilted his head upward and looked at me with a genuine smile. "I see you've already found the quietest place in the castle."

I nodded, taking a glance at him. I was temporarily thrown by his smile, not because he was smiling but because of the genuineness in it. I'd seen knights smile before, but it had always been malicious or threatening or victorious. Never had I seen a royal knight genuinely smile at me.

Breaking out of my thoughts, I spoke: "Yes. It's better than the sleeping commons."

Parker nodded. "Indeed, it is."

Silence fell between us as we sat there, staring at the maroon curtain.

I noticed Parker wore a tight white shirt, the sleeves running down to his wrists and the hem tucked neatly into his armored pants. He walked around the castle unprotected. That would be important to remember.

After a moment of looking him over in my peripheral vision, I turned to him. "Why are you up so late?"

Parker took in a deep breath. "I could ask you the same question."

I nodded as silence returned. Before I turned my gaze away from him, I noticed the thick bags under his eyes and the wrinkles on his skin. He was too young for all the burdens he carried on his shoulders. But, I understood. I'd been a captain of team, too. I'd seen things that kept me awake at night. I'd witnessed things I wished I could un-see. I could only imagine how bad it was for Parker.

Silence reigned awkwardly for a few minutes. Unable to stand it any longer, I sighed. "Where I come from, there's this river, with this beautiful bridge that stretches out across it. I spent all my time sitting there and staring over the way the water would rush right below my feet. It was a small luxury. Now, even that is something I cannot have."

Parker was watching me, his eyes looking over my face and hair. "That sounds lovely. I wish we had such luxury here."

I nodded. "As do I." I sighed and looked around the small nook. "I find this to be the best place for solitude."

"Maybe solitude isn't exactly the best thing sometimes." Parker suggested. He looked charismatically at me. He had one eyebrow raised and a smile that seemed to just never go away.

"Indeed. Sometimes it isn't."

Silence drew back as we talked, and I was surprised to find that I felt like someone kind of understood me.

I dismissed myself two hours later, feeling both satisfied and disgusted. I had sat there conversing with one of the men who might kill Enders, and I admitted to myself that I only spoke to Parker with the sole intention of manipulating him into helping us escape. I was a necessary evil, but evil nonetheless.

*~*~*

I felt my dress swing around my ankle boots as I walked the dark, dim corridors of the castle.

Taking in a deep, reluctant sigh, I tore my eyes from the curtains and faced the stairwell in front of me. It spiraled down into the kitchen, and every single time I saw it, it left me with thoughts of days long past.

How many times had my father walked these corridors during his service to the king? How many times had my mother visited him in this kitchen?

Now, I was in the place my father had tried so hard to take me from.

I stepped onto the stairs, hearing the tap-tap of my shoes on the cold floor beneath my feet. Entering the kitchen that morning, ready to do whatever work they were to hand me, I saw six trays on a cart next to the cook's work table.

I walked absently to it, my eyes feeling tired and sluggish.

It had been six weeks since I'd entered the castle and I felt like I was starting to lose hope. Winter had come and gone.

This wasn't the plan. This wasn't how this was supposed to happen. And, the outlaws hadn't even come yet.

The resentment I now held for Robin Hood was insurmountable.

I entered the kitchen, the darkness plaguing me to my soul. I felt as if I were dying, the castle sucking the life out of me a little more with each passing day. I yearned to see the sun and feel those rays of light on my skin.

I raised one hand to rub my forehead.

What had this place done to me? The reason I was here had gotten lost in the scuffle. Sometimes, I'd hear some of the Castle-Hands whispering to each other about the captured outlaw. Never had I heard them whisper where he was being held, and every time I would inquire, people stopped talking. It was like people were suspicious of me, and I couldn't risk that at all.

By my third week in the castle, I'd started to lose hope of finding him in this maze of wood and secrecy.

Three weeks after that point, here I was – unable to focus and unable to figure out a way to get to him. I felt like I was placed under a spell, where fatigue and darkness followed me everywhere I went.

"Harlow," The castle cook beamed delightfully as I entered the room. "How are you this morning?"

The man bounced around the room, his over-sized stomach jiggling with him as he moved from one plate to another. He dropped chicken onto one plate while lifting one hand unhygienically to his hair and brushing away the dandruff from his eyes.

I nodded, suppressing my disgust. "Good, Lyle. How are you?"

He nodded back to me, his hands rushing to move and fix up certain items. He seemed to never stop moving. "Good, aye. We're busy this evening, dear," the older man said to me, a smile on his lips. "It's good to be preparing a feast again!" He beamed, kneading out dough. "It's been too long since the king has had a gathering."

I nodded, trying not to show my disdain at the mention of King Wesley. It was small moments like these that made me want to keep fighting, but the daunting effect of the castle kept me down, as if pushing me underwater and drowning me in the darkness.

"What is it you need of me, then?" I asked, trying to place a small smile on my face.

The cook looked around happily, an almost puzzled expression crossing his features.

I wondered if my father had ever been this happy to prepare the king's feasts.

"I'll actually have to ask you to bring one of the prisoners their food, if you will. Usually I ask Marlene, but she's fallen sick, as you know."

I stood frozen for a moment. Prisoners?

My heart pounded with uncertain hopefulness before breaking free of the fog in my brain. I subtly shook myself.

"Yes, indeed. Where is this prisoner's quarters?" I asked, stepping forward, a cart of small leftovers sitting on separate plates, in the corner of the kitchen.

"This one is being held in the dungeon. Head down the stairs and speak with the scribe there." The cook told me, looking back and forth between me and the dough he was kneading in his hands.

"Alright," I agreed, taking one of the plates from the cart. I'd looked at some of the other plates, noticing that the serving sizes were small and barely enough to get by. I tried to pick the plate with the most food and the biggest bread rolls. "I will be back shortly."

"Thank you, Harlow." The cook called after me, going on his own merry way with some food.

I nodded and offered a quiet "mhm," although, I was certain he couldn't hear.

The corridors were dark and grimy. They were always dark and grimy. It made my skin crawl, and it seemed that the closer I came to the dungeons, the more uncomfortable the environment was. The mold on the walls seemed to move and pulsate as I took my first step down the staircase.

How could anyone live like this?

The corridor was only illuminated by torches and fire that clung to the walls.

I reached the bottom of the spiraling corridor and stepped onto the timber floor. As I turned my eyes up, I noticed that the corners of the broad room were dark, and for several seconds all was quiet while my eyes adjusted to the scarce light.

On my right side sat a table, scrolls sprawled out across the surface and a man, hidden by the darkness sat slumped over the parchments, writing fervently.

I took a step forward, putting distance between myself and the brown-stained walls behind me.

"Excuse me," I said, looking at the man, a plate held gently in my hands.

The man looked up from the table, shocked by my presence. "Oh hello!" He said, pushing aside the scrolls and standing up from his chair on the other side of the table. "How can I assist you, my lady?"

"I have food for one of the prisoners held here."

The man raised an eyebrow, nodded and looked down at the papers on his table. He raised one hand and rubbed his scruffy beard "Ah, for the outlaw, yes. Thank you."

My heart skipped a beat before accelerating to an unprecedented speed. Everything seemed to come alive at the word. "The outlaw?"

"Yes. His food has not come yet." The man said, looking back to me with a smile. "I'll take the food to him. Just place it right here." He pointed to an empty space on the edge of his desk.

"No." My response seemed to quick, causing the man to recoil. "I mean," I paused, looking down sadly, trying to keep up with my lies. "The outlaws killed my father. I'd like to ask this one why they chose to take him from me, if that's okay."

The man across from me let his eyebrows fall in understanding. "Oh," he said gently, "I see. I'm sorry for your loss, my lady. Uh, but, I'm unsure that speaking with him will ease your pain."

I nodded and turned my head to the left, still facing the ground. I was getting too good at feigning my emotions. It felt dirty and wrong, but I had to manipulate who I could. For Enders. "I need to know why they did it. Please."

The scribe nodded and turned his head to the door. He twisted his face in hesitation. His internal struggle plagued him, but in the end, he sighed. "I'll let you go to his cell, but you cannot go inside of it. You may speak with him through the barred door. Understand?"

My eyes lit up, but I held back the expression. "Yes, kind scribe."

The man nodded and walked toward the door leading to the prisoner cells.

I followed him across the chamber and toward the door. I saw between the bars of the window on the door, a corridor leading down a dark pathway, illuminated by torches every few feet, and cell doors lining the left and right sides.

This was no way to live, and now for the first time, my rescue effort was progressing. I knew where he was being held. I knew which pathways to use to get him out of this horrendous place.

The only question left was: how?

"His cell is the third on this side," the man said, pointing to the dirt-covered walls on the left. "Don't get too close to him."

I nodded, taking a last glance at the man before he opened the door and let me in. The man closed the door behind me, which gave me a slightly morbid, lonesome feeling.

I looked back, waiting for him to turn around and go back to his table, which he did after taking one more concerned look at me.

I stalked forward, one step at a time, my heart pounding so hard it made the plate in my hands tremble.

The cells were dark and quiet. A random cough and a rogue laugh would sound out in the echoic halls, but otherwise the dark seemed impervious to any sound.

The tap-tap of my shoes on the solid floor resonated through the building and into my chest. I kept a safe distance from the walls, knowing that beyond the darkness lay mold and dew on the wooden foundation.

I came across the first and second cells without any problems, not daring to look inside for fear of what I may see.

My heart thumped harder with every passing second.

Enders' image came into my mind. I remembered his smile and his laugh. I remembered how he'd saved my life. Not once or even twice, I thought, a shaky smile plaguing my lips. Thrice. And, he'd kept my secret to the bitter end.

I stepped a bit closer to the cell, but still not within viewing distance. I felt the heat from a torch lighting up the wall next to me. With a trembling hand, I reached out and took the torch's handle in my palm. I took in a sharp breath and stepped in front of the cells' bars.

I didn't know what Enders would say. I didn't know if he'd be angry or happy to see me. Frankly, I didn't care. All I wanted was to see his face again. I wanted to get him out of this castle and set him free. I wanted to do so many things in that moment that I almost broke down in hopeful tears, because I was so deliriously happy to finally see him again.

My hands still trembled, somehow still holding the plate steady.

I stared into the darkness of the cell for a moment, unable to see anything. In my head, I prayed that he was still okay, that he was alive enough to survive this with me. I prayed that we would make it out of this, because I wasn't completely sure that I could do this.

My inhale was shaky and I could barely contain the whimper that left me before I was able to compose myself. I cleared my throat.

"Your food, outlaw."

### Chapter Twenty-seven

As soon as the words left my mouth, there was a moment of complete silence, before the quiet scuffling could manifest the worst thing I'd ever seen. In the small amount of light, I could see the movements and shades of gray that sat in the cell.

Slowly, a figure started to come closer in the warm lighting. First I saw his feet, but soon after, his whole bruised, beaten body was there before me.

I let my jaw drop. This wasn't what I had expected.

Enders' clothing hung off his body as he stepped forward, stumbling. He'd easily lost twenty pounds within the last month and a half. He'd kept some of the muscle in his arms, but he was thin and sickly. He was underfed.

He's dying.

I watched with my jaw slack as Enders' face stepped into the light. His cheekbones were much more apparent than I'd last remembered. The bags under his eyes were heavy, and it'd been so long since he'd seen the light that he held up a hand to shield his eyes from the torch's flames.

That's when I caught sight of his hand – bloodied and mangled. It wasn't broken, but the top third of his pinkie and ring finger were gone, a strip of cloth sitting over them, caked in fresh blood.

I felt tears burn at my eyes, but I couldn't let them fall.

We didn't say anything for a few moments.

Enders let his jaw fall as well, but his eyes looked more dazed and confused than anything else – like he thought he might be having delusions. Then, it was like he had turned feral when he noted the food in my hands, his eyes staring at the scraps with the hunger of a starving man.

Without a word, I slipped the tray to him as fast as I could, through a small opening at the bottom of the cell door.

He immediately dropped to the floor and piled the food into his mouth when it was within reach.

I, in turn, dropped to the floor, my body trembling at the sight of him. I sat as he ate his food for a few minutes, Enders focusing on the food and me focusing on Enders.

I wanted to touch him, but I didn't know if I could without breaking down into sobs – which was for the best, I supposed, because if the scribe were to peek in and see me caressing his hand, he'd know I was a liar.

Silently, Enders glanced up at me, an old expression there – one that I hadn't seen in months. It made me both elated and annoyed. This was the face that he gave me whenever he got irritated with me.

My heart skipped a few beats at the look.

"Why?" He croaked.

I lifted my eyes to his own, covering my mouth with one hand. "Why what?" My voice was shaking and my hand was doing no justice in concealing my terror.

Enders kept his eyes on me, trying to look as in-control as he could.

The very sight of his cheekbones through his skin made me cringe. I looked away, unable to bear the sight any longer.

"I came for you." I said the words as a truth – quietly, sadly, under my breath. It wasn't a bitter statement, but it certainly answered his question.

Enders dropped his eyes, and even though I thought he'd yell at me, he seemed more relieved than anything else.

I shrugged. I wanted to reach out and touch him again, but refrained. "I couldn't let you die here. I've been here for weeks, but I couldn't find you."

Enders nodded and continued to eat his food in the silence that filled the air.

I looked back to Enders to tell him I had to go, but stopped when I saw his hand resting on his knee. I looked at the torch in my hands and stared at the doorway. The scribe on the other side hadn't said anything to me yet, but I knew he would become suspicious soon. Slipping my fingers into my boot, I pulled my blade from where it had hidden there for weeks. "Let me see your fingers."

Enders stared at me, then the blade in my hand, then the torch I carried and cringed away. He shook his head.

"If you don't stop the bleeding, it could swell and you'll die. I'm trying really damn hard to make sure that doesn't happen, Enders." I said, leaning closer to the bars of his cell.

Enders tilted his head and closed his eyes like he was trying to prepare himself for the pain that would come. "Do it quickly."

I nodded and touched the dagger to the fire, letting the blade heat and glow. "Find something to bite on."

He shoved his other fist in his mouth and nodded for me to do it.

So, I did. I grabbed his hand as fast as I could and held it steady even though he jerked away from me in reflex. I didn't wait for him to stop before taking the blade and pressing it down into the flesh of his fingers, the flesh sizzling and burning under it's heat.

Enders cried out into his fist, but remained surprisingly silent.

I examined the damage for a moment, and saw that I had gotten it sealed and fixed in time to avoid any further damage. He'd probably be able to fight with his left hand again, but he would need to train hard to do it.

"I must go." I said, letting go of his hand and leaning away from him.

Just before I moved, I felt the warmth of his right hand – his undamaged hand, if you considered etched marks from his teeth undamaged – on mine.

I looked at him, taking in a deep, trembling breath.

"Please," he whispered. "Come back to me. Don't forget."

I nodded, trying to blink away the tears I felt coming on. "I'll bring you more food."

I stood and composed myself slightly before putting the torch back on its holder and striding toward the doorway, where I knocked and waited for the scribe to let me through.

"Thank you for letting me see this outlaw." I said to him as he opened the door. Stepping through, I continued: "He gave me only few answers. If you don't mind, may I ask him more about my father tomorrow?"

The scribe looked uneasy, but he sighed and relented. "Only if you're quick about it."

I nodded. "Right. Thank you, kind scribe."

The man smiled at the compliment.

I smiled tiredly, glancing down before striding out of the chamber and up the staircase.

How could they do this? My thoughts rang out in my head, causing a full panic in my chest. Anger started to build in me and spread throughout my limbs.

He's dying. I thought. Sadness and frustration were about to explode from me in a storm.

As I walked back to the kitchen, I vowed that I'd save him. It was my duty to save him, not just because of my bloodline, but because I knew that a life without him wasn't one worth living.

*~*~*

I walked through the castle, frustration still echoing in my heart throughout the day as I ran errands and delivered supplies.

I held a sheet in my hands, making folds and creases as I glared into the space in front of me.

"Harlow!" I heard my name ring out in the corridors.

I turned my head to the right, spotting the source of the voice almost immediately.

Parker walked toward me, leaving his fellow soldiers behind. He wore his normal armored pants and his tight, white, long-sleeved shirt. His hair was slick with sweat. His army had just come back from a mission a long way away. It had been two weeks since I'd seen him last, and he'd made it a point to ensure that I knew he would be gone for a while.

I felt the smallest bit of envy when I saw the streaks of a red sun-burn on his face. I hadn't seen the sun in months, never mind gotten a burn from it.

I forced a smile onto my face. "Sir Parker," I greeted, glancing up to his face for only a moment before looking back down to the sheets in my hands.

Parker wore his usual, friendly, enthusiastic smile. His charismatic eyes landed on mine. "How are you this evening?"

I had to fight to keep a smile on my face. "Fine. How are you, sir?"

Parker nodded, a smile sitting on his lips. "Well. We're back from that scouting mission I told you about."

I nodded, taking all the laundry in my arms and heading down the hall, Parker following next to me. He'd told me about the missions he had and what they pertained to. I'd acquired at least that much of his trust. It was too valuable to give up, I knew, and now I had quite a bit of knowledge to provide to Robin.

Maybe it would get me back in his good graces, but I somehow doubted it.

"I'm glad you're back safely." I said quietly, not in the mood to speak.

"Aye. Myself as well." His smile livened as he followed me.

I stopped and opened a pantry, placing several sheets and linens on the shelves.

He was silent for a moment, his eyes just watching as I organized linens.

I turned to him. "Is something wrong?"

Parker shrugged. "No, but uh..." He paused. "I've been given permission to leave behind my duties here in favor of something in town. King Wesley has seen my work and offered to let me free of the royal army."

I raised an eyebrow, trying to push Enders to the back of my mind temporarily. I needed to focus on Parker for the moment, in case he offered any important information. I turned my head to him, stunned. "What? How? I've never heard of someone being relieved of military duty, especially someone of your rank."

Parker tilted his head and turned his eyes downward for a moment. "I told him of my intentions to have my own family and raise children. He's given me permission to become a civilian and have all those things I so desire. In fact, he's offered to give me enough land and wealth to live very comfortably."

Before I could fix my own thoughts, I was struck frozen by him. His hair swung at his eyes as he towered over me. I realized he was a little too close for my comfort, but even if my feet would move, I had nowhere to go – stuck between him and an open pantry.

He looked at me with smooth, anxious eyes. "You deserve more than this castle for your life. You deserve a family and children, too."

I felt my heart stop for a moment. My stomach almost heaved, but I was able to hold it back. I knew what he was doing, and I didn't like it. Not one bit.

"You deserve what every other woman can have. I can give you everything you've ever wanted. I want to give you everything you've ever wanted." He paused. His eyes bore into mine.

It made my chest flush with panic and my heart flutter in anxiety. I had let my jaw drop. I stared at him with complete shock and horror. The horror he'd misinterpreted to be happiness somehow.

"I'd like to arrange our marriage." Parker said, a smile displaying itself proudly on his lips. He was confident and enthusiastic, his smile never faltering and his confidence never fading.

I knew he was attractive, and he was husband material. He was a leader of the royal army, and he had barely any faults. He was calm, cool, collected, happy, well-mannered, fit, and caring. I had so many thoughts rushing through my mind, I couldn't sort the good from the bad. I knew if it hadn't been for Enders, I may have even genuinely agreed, and it was that thought that scared me the most.

I stayed silent for a moment before looking back down to the laundry in my hands. It felt as if the gates to my memories had been opened and images flooded into my brain. Enders face and his laugh and the way he said my name all came crashing into my mind and refused to let me go from its grip.

I felt the fabric in my hands, replaying several moments I'd shared with Enders in my mind. I felt myself come back to reality as I stood there.

But, I can't say no...

The realization came with panic and horror.

I couldn't say no because Parker was the most suitable man in the castle. He was young and handsome, and every girl in the palace aspired to be with someone like him. It would be suspicious if I had said no to his proposal.

Hopelessness struck my heart. My legs trembled with panic and all kinds of fear. I felt my palms go sweaty and my eyes start to sting with tears of pain, sadness, anger, and dying hope.

I turned my eyes up to him and forced a huge smile on my face. It made me sick to my stomach, but I was still somehow able to stifle the urge to vomit.

"I'd like that." The second the words left my mouth, I felt the wave of guilt wash over me. Enders immediately came into my mind. Every memory I'd shared with him made me cringe with pain.

Parker's smile grew as I had to force mine to stay put on my face. He didn't seem to notice my discomfort. "I'll start preparations immediately." He beamed, happily. "With any luck, we can be settled in a home away from here in a month or two."

Things seemed to be happening in a blur.

"We will speak soon," Parker said, taking backward steps away from me and beaming proudly. "Have a good evening, Harlow."

I nodded, searing guilt covering my body. It was like I could feel all my emotions on my skin. My face felt warm with terror and complete anguish.

Parker turned away from me, offering one last grin before he did so. I couldn't find it in myself to smile anymore.

The pain in my heart made the edges of my lips fall.

Tears started to well up in my eyes.

It was then, when I collapsed against the wooden wall next to me and let myself heave out quiet sobs, that I realized time was running out.

*~*~*

I could sneak him out through the gardens, I thought, turning down corridors, the sound of my feet matching the beating of my heart. I carried rags and towels toward the kitchen, my disdain for the castle's brown walls growing more with every step.

That would never work. I've never even seen the gardens...

It had been nearly a week since I'd seen Enders, and I couldn't find an excuse to see him again. I was running through strategies, but every single one ended up with him dead.

"Harlow, dear!" The cook immediately exclaimed, kneading his dough, his cheeks rosy red with excitement.

"Hello, Lyle," I greeted, offering a small, fake smile before placing the rags down on the counter and looking up at him.

I patted and fixed my dress before placing my hands on my hips. I raised an eyebrow upon seeing a giddy, excited cook before me. "An important dinner?"

"Aye, my girl, the Spring Feast!" He said happily. His smile fell only slightly as he glanced at the cart in the corner of the kitchen. "I hate to ask, dear, but can you deliver plates to the prisoner's downstairs?"

I felt my smile falter and my heart beat faster. I felt my hands grow numb and excited. I nodded, trying to compose myself as I stepped toward the cart.

"I can indeed," I said, a genuine, small smile on my lips.

"Thank you, dear," the cook said, paying undivided attention to the dough in front of him.

I nodded, silently taking the plate from the cart. I looked up to the cook and noticed his back turned to me. I quickly swiped three extra bread rolls, shoving them into my roomy pockets and rushing out of the kitchen. I picked up my pace, excitedly, reaching the stairs to the dungeons and prisoner's quarters in what felt like an eternity.

I took the stairs two at a time, making my way to the bottom in barely thirty seconds.

The dark walls and dim lighting made me take a moment to adjust my eyes before I could see the scribe in the dark room.

"Get over here, outlaw!" A demanding voice rang out in the darkness.

I immediately turned my eyes toward the hallway leading to Enders' cell. I noticed the open door, and the unnatural torch light seeping from the corridor.

"Bind his hands. Hurry up."

I recoiled at the voice, my heart sinking into the very depths of my soul.

Parker?

I watched Parker and another soldier I barely recognized, emerge from the corridor, holding Enders, hands bound behind his back.

I felt my jaw drop. "Parker?"

Parker's eyes shot up to me.

Was it sorrow I saw resonating there?

"Harlow, dear, what are you doing in this place?"

I shook my head, incredulously at first. "Delivering a meal. What's going on?"

Parker exhaled and looked over me silently. He offered a smile. "Nothing to worry yourself with, dearest."

I, until that moment, avoided Enders' eyes. They were defeated, his lip bleeding at one end, his head dangling low, hair hanging over his eyes. My heart ached at how badly he had been treated.

It made my eyes sting with anger and pain. I felt my stomach churn and my eyes burn with a rage reserved only for Robin Hood and King Wesley.

"Dearest?" Enders croaked out, his voice gruff and tired. "What a pretty girl you have there, Parker. I'd love to take a turn on that one."

Parker's jaw clenched as he narrowed his eyes on Enders. "You'll only thing you'll be taking a turn on is the guillotine."

I felt my cheeks burn at both comments, but ignored it. "Where are you taking him?"

Parker raised an eyebrow at me. "King Wesley wishes to see him at the feast, to enjoy in the capture of his outlaw." Parker's voice kept quiet and absolute as he spoke. "Do not concern yourself with this man, my dear."

I kept quiet for only a moment. "I wouldn't, Parker, but he hasn't eaten yet, and to be good entertainment for the king, he must be well-fed and in exemplary condition."

Parker nodded, standing silently. "I see." He paused, looking at Enders on his left, then turning to me again. "Will it please you to see him eat?"

I was about to answer, but held my tongue for a second. "It would please me to do as I've been instructed. The cook oversees keeping this man alive and healthy. If this man runs into any health problems, the cook will be blamed, and thus I will be at fault. Let me not be responsible for the death and undernourishment of this man."

Parker's eyes softened and looked to the man on the other side of Enders. They exchanged words in a silent conversation. Then, Parker nodded. "I will have him eat."

I smiled a small, grateful smile, as Parker stepped forward and took the tray from my hands, feeling the gentle touch of my skin as he did so.

I suppressed the urge to gag at the touch.

He offered a smile as he turned away from me and led Enders and his fellow soldier back down the corridor. Before Parker completely disappeared, taking Enders with him and away from me, he turned back. "Now, go back to the cook, and not worry yourself with matters of these prisoners."

I nodded. I felt my teeth grind together in distress and disdain. Anger grew from my stomach and spread to my chest. I felt my cheeks burn red, but it couldn't be noticed in the room's dark lighting.

"As you say, dearest." It was the most malicious and sarcastic tone I'd ever mustered in my life.

I turned away from Parker, and ran up the stairs, out of Enders' prison behind me.

*~*~*

I marched out of the staircase and walked the darkened and dimmed halls toward my living quarters.

It was a crowded room, with the same wooden walls as the rest of the castle. It was only tidy due to the cleanly nature of my fellow maids and servants. The floor was a clean, sparkled shade of brown and the walls had been rid of their occasional mold.

I looked around the room, finding it abandoned. I closed the door quietly behind me and strode across the room to the thick, red curtains, hanging loosely from the wall, undoubtedly hiding an arched window that I longed to look out.

With every step I took, I felt the rumble of music below my feet; I felt the sound of chatter and voices reach into my soul from the floor below. It made my skin crawl to think that Enders was down there, being taunted before King Wesley.

I took hold of the thick curtains and examined the dark color in my fingers. The fabric felt like how I imagined oppression would feel in a physical form. I hated these stupid, useless curtains; I couldn't even think of all the ways I hated these tools of manipulation that stood between me and the outside world.

Harlow – the outlaw's victim – was in a good place. I was going to marry a prestigious, young, and wealthy leader of the Newark Castle soldiers.

But, Harlow, the outlaw, was dying inside.

It had been too long that I'd started leading this double life. It had been too long since I felt the warmth of the sun on my skin. It had been over two months since I'd seen natural light, and it had started to drive me insane.

They were keeping me as a prisoner. They were torturing the man I'd come to love. I had been practically forced to accept a marriage proposal to someone I was clearly manipulating. I hated the person I had become, but this was what I had to do to free Enders. If I even could free Enders.

The more I thought about the situation I was in, the more my anger built up inside of me. I felt my body tremble at the injustice of it all. I felt my cheeks burn red with rage.

In one overwhelming moment of total bliss, I threw open the curtains of the window and let them cascade to the sides.

I sighed in relief when I immediately felt the sun's warmth I so longed for.

The first few moments that the curtains were opened, I stood in front of the window, enjoying the sun's light touch my skin, my eyes closed and my body soaking in all the rays I could.

Only a few seconds passed before I opened my eyes to look out over the horizon, seeing the most serene and peaceful thing I'd ever witnessed. The hills and beautiful green valleys made me wonder how I ever made it this long without seeing the nature I so longed for. I had to squint, but that didn't take away any of the natural beauty I saw.

It took me only a moment to see a small, moving body in the trees off to my far right, in the tree-line before the front of the kitchen entrance to the castle. At first, I thought it might be one of the king's soldiers, but just as the thought came, it was gone. I spotted the green and brown tunic that so many of my friends wore and the leather armor on the pants of the men I'd become so acquainted with.

It was then that the men spotted me as well, mistaking me for one of the servants, hiding back in the tree-line.

But, then, one by one, the men stepped back into view.

Then, there were more.

And, more.

They lined the ridge near the kitchen's plateau, pouring from the forest like water from a wineskin.

My heart rang out with one word: outlaws.

Several men stood on the bank, staring out to me, raising their palms to me, almost saluting, to show that they recognized me.

I let my jaw drop, let my stomach flip in excitement and exhaustion. I felt overwhelmed – so much so that I let out a broken sob, held one hand to my mouth, and lifted my palm to show them that it was me and I understood.

One of the men – I could see some of his features from this distance but didn't know him enough to guess his name – put his two palms up at me.

"Stay there!" He mouthed at me while he backed away into the trees and reappeared a moment later with a few other men.

First, I saw Candor and Elwin burst through the trees, Reggie barreling out after them. They all smiled, but what pulled at me the most was Candor waving one arm wildly and jumping excited like a loving puppy.

I had to double over and let go of a sob again before I looked back at them. When my eyes crashed back into them, I saw my father standing there, staring at me with the biggest smile on his face.

I held up my hand to him, trying to tell him that I was okay.

Barely registering what was going on, I saw my father step back and Robin step forward. He solemnly placed his hand on his heart and raised an eyebrow at me.

I thought he mouthed Enders, but I wasn't completely certain from this distance.

I couldn't figure out a way to explain Enders' status.

I raised my trembling hand above my head and rested it on the wooden arch that leaned up next to me. My other hand came over my mouth and felt myself shake in emotions I couldn't even name.

The sound of footsteps broke me out of my moment of relief. I glanced backward as I heard the door open and looked back at the outlaws for only another second before I grabbed the curtains and pulled them shut as quickly as I could.

It was then, as tears came over the brims of my eyes, that I realized this was it.

Composing myself, pushing those tears away, I held myself straighter and walked past the servant who had entered the quarters, letting my feet take me straight to the kitchen.

This was the rescue attempt I so longed for.

*~*~*

I practically ran toward the kitchen, where I was supposed to be on duty. I didn't know what I was going to do, but I knew that I had to do something.

I had to get Enders out to the outlaws somehow – which was a little easier now that he was in the Great Room as entertainment for the evening.

The downside? Wesley and every other noble invited to this Spring Feast were in that Great Room – along with about three dozen guards.

"Where have you been?!" A sweaty, angry Lyle exclaimed, marching toward me and shoving food into my hands. "Take these out to the tables for the guests!"

I nodded, taking the plates and disappearing back through the door, silently thanking God that Lyle didn't inquire too much about where I'd been – or why I looked happy, for that matter.

I walked into the Great Room, King Wesley sitting high on his throne at the end of the room. He watched his guests with what looked like a bored, if not malicious, smile. I had trouble determining if he was happy or not.

The moment I turned my eyes away from King Wesley on his throne, I realized the Great Room was bright and light was pouring in through all the windows. I turned my eyes upward and saw the curtains pulled back and the sun's rays of light bouncing around the room.

The sight stole my breath away in an instant.

The guests didn't seem to notice, dancing and chatting with each other instead. The women flirted and batted their eyes while the men bowed low and took hands to dance.

The normally boring, brown walls were decorated with large maroon and black curtains, which would have usually felt eerie and terrifying, but now that they were bathed in sunlight, felt comfortable and elegant.

I scanned the room quickly. This time, through the moving and dancing bodies, I saw Enders, beaten and bleeding. He was dirty, wearing the same clothing he wore the evening of his capture. His garments were torn, but they held onto him just fine, albeit loosely. I was thankful that at least they'd let him keep his boots.

He lost more weight since I'd seen him that first time and would have looked sickly if not for his muscular physique – which, I imagined, he'd pushed himself to maintain.

It wasn't anything that some good nutrition couldn't fix. His head was bowed low and his arms chained to a pillar on his right side.

Although he was tired, he was forced to stand, while two guards stood on his sides and the king sat close by.

I turned away from the sight, unable to handle the rage building in the pit of my stomach. I knitted my eyebrows together and half-staggered, half-walked to the feast table and slammed the food down before moving out of the Great Room and into the kitchen again. I watched in a daze as the cook moved swiftly around the room.

"Oh Harlow, dear, take more plates to the guest tables." Lyle said as soon as I'd come back in. He had a few other women on his service for the feast, but he knew I was the best and, I suspected that he preferred me over the others because I didn't usually disappear for hours.

Lyle, the cook, sent me back and forth three times, and each time was harder than the last because all I wanted to do was look at Enders and feel his eyes on mine. All I wanted was to tell him that help was coming.

They're right outside! I stared at him every time I placed a plate on the table, willing him to lift his head and see me. They're coming for us!

The fourth time the cook asked me to deliver food, I wanted to roll my eyes. I took the plates from the counter-top and walked back into the Great Room that I dreaded.

I'd taken four steps into the giant room before the first scream rang out.

I immediately dropped the plates, turning around and scanning the room.

The archway was dark and dim. The lighting was excellent in the Great Room, but not as bright in the corridors leading away from the Great Room.

It must have only been five seconds, but as silence filled the room, along with terror and stress, one word rang out in the absolute darkness, that struck fear into all the hearts of every soul in the room.

Except mine – and I guessed Enders' as well.

"Outlaws!"

I stared intently into the darkness, seeing the moment that an arrow came whizzing out of the archway and into the Great Room, implanting itself into a pillar near King Wesley's throne.

It was in that second that total chaos ensued.

I turned from the archway in just enough time to see Enders being taken away by two soldiers, being directed by the king himself.

They took him through a doorway on the opposite end of the room. I recognized it. The servant girls usually murmured about it: the king's Great Room Quarters. He was famously a fan of theatrics and would lie in wait until all his guests had arrived to make his grand appearance from that room. I'd never been in it and had no idea what it looked like, but I knew that's where they were taking him.

I saw the outlaws emerge from the archway, bringing life and color into the Great Room. Their green and brown clad bodies illuminated the dead, dark walls.

I heard the high-pitched whine of women screaming, although none of them were touched. I witnessed the nobles battling with rushing soldiers in King Wesley's army. I had the faintest worry about Parker, hoping he would survive. He didn't deserve to die, but there wasn't much I could do about that.

Immediately, I was searching the faces of the outlaws.

Leading the men was Reggie, who was yelling orders and taking the front lines with brute force. I felt proud that he'd come so far. He wasn't the young man who couldn't win in the training circles anymore and I felt myself grinning because he was so confident in himself.

His wife will be proud.

I started taking steps backward, toward the direction the men had taken Enders.

It was then that my father rushed into the room. He broke through the front line of men, yelling out orders and fighting royal soldiers. "Check every inch of this place while we can!" He raised he sword and hit a soldier in the gut, pushing him back and forcing him down. He raised his sword high and plummeted the metal through the man's chest, blood coming up like a fountain of red water.

I stared in horror as I watched my father kill a man. I was certain he'd killed many men, but hearing about it and seeing it were two deeply different experiences.

My father yanked his sword back and looked around the room. "Groups four and six," he bellowed, "search the perimeter! Fall back if your lives are threatened!"

I wanted to run to him and cry into his chest like I had when I was a child, but I was frozen.

He was healthier and livelier. I couldn't believe my own eyes. His hair had been gray, but his body was more fit and his voice sounded more absolute. I wondered if maybe outlawry was simply in his blood.

Then, amid moving bodies and raging wars, my father turned and his eyes landed right on mine. I saw his gaze light up as he started toward me. I wanted to hug him, but I stopped as a thought flowed through my head.

If I hugged my father in front of all these nobles, they would know I wasn't only a servant girl. Then, Enders could be executed at any moment. I had been right when I said being a castle-hand could have its advantage and now I'd just found it.

I came back to reality, my face turned serious, and I held up my hand to stop him. I took several steps backward, feeling the cold, timber walls behind me. I hadn't realized how close to the wall I was. Turning, I saw the wall on my right.

When I locked eyes with my father again, he had downed another man and had just dealt a killing blow.

His expression grew dark and bitter.

I shook my head and said a name: "Enders."

To me it was a whisper, but to my father is was a statement, a plea. It was as if I was standing in front of him saying, "please, let me do this. I need to do this."

He gave a small, unhappy look before turning with his fellow outlaws and continuing with the waging war.

I turned and looked at the door behind me, snatching the handle in an iron grip. I knew it was locked before I felt the unnatural push of the doors knob again.

Looking around the room, I searched for anything useful. Nothing popped out to me. I turned back to the door and gave it another shove, feeling the intense panic rise in my chest and eat at me. I pushed all my body's force against the door and when it didn't give, I backed up and slammed my fist against it in frustration. I looked up and around, before I had to twist and tilt my head back to the wall before me.

There was a huge curtain cascading down from a high ledge under the ceiling. I would bet anything that the curtain led up to where Enders had been taken.

Taking hold of the curtain, I gave it a hard tug. It didn't move, keeping snug where it was hung. So, I let go and repositioned my hands before pushing myself up and climbing up the strand of fabric.

I heard battle happening under me, but refused to look down. My arms started to get weak from the climb. It was getting harder with every push and pull. With every inch, I felt like my arms might give away. It had been too long since I'd trained and now it had come to bite me painfully.

I gritted my teeth together and pushed myself up further. It was only when I was about to reach the top that my hand slipped and I hung from only one hand, clinging to the red fabric for dear life.

My eyes scanned the ground and battle ensuing below, my heart throbbing in my chest, and my hands starting to become clammy. I felt my cheeks go red with panic and horror. It was a very long way down, and the sight made me think about how hard my body would hit the floor if I let go.

I let out a growl, my thoughts only of Enders. At the mental image of his bruised face, I forced my body to swing back toward the curtain and my hands and arms to keep going.

It was only about two feet before I climbed over the ledge at the top and fell to the ground on the other side. I tried not to make any sound, although one 'oof' came out as I landed on my stomach. I pushed myself up, and dusted my hands off on my dress.

I gawked at the sight before me.

The corridor was lined with large, arched windows on the right side, where sunlight poured into the castle, no curtains hanging before the arches. On the left were doors upon doors, leading to different rooms and secrets that I'd never know.

I took a few cautious steps down the sun-lit corridor, looking at everything I could see. The arches that lead to the outside world were intricately detailed with all kinds of designs.

So, King Wesley allowed only himself to see the sun?

This side of the castle faced a meadow, where no archers could hide and no harm could come. I took in the sun while I walked through the corridor, trying to listen for anything.

I took step by small, careful step.

Two minutes later, three muffled voices came to my ears.

My heart paused and then thumped harder. I took larger, less careful steps until I could hear them better.

The voices got louder and angrier. I was getting closer to them. My thoughts were confirmed when I took two more cautious steps and heard the voices coming directly from the door on my right side. I felt my heart go numb for only a moment before I laid myself against the bright, white wall on the left of the door.

Voices rang out; King Wesley and two other men I didn't know.

"Kill the boy and be done with it!"

I crept an inch closer, sticking to the wall. I crept closer to the door, listening as the sounds of an argument rang out.

"Simon, get him under control." King Wesley said, nonchalance and annoyance in his voice. I could almost feel him wave his hand passively.

"Gregory," a third voice chimed in, sternly, trying to regain control of the situation.

"If we kill the boy, the outlaws will have no reason to be here," the man named Gregory, I assumed, spat out.

"Except revenge," Simon said, his voice as stern and unforgiving as a boulder.

A loud bang sounded from down the hallway.

I turned back and started panicking. I saw one of the open windows and walked over, seeing a small overhang several feet below. Raising myself onto the windowsill, hearing the clinking of armor and the pitter-patter of footsteps coming toward me, I felt my blood start to rush in my ears.

The faster the footsteps came, the faster I moved. I felt my heart beat faster and faster as I moved around the windowsill and placed my feet on a small overhang several feet below. My fingers barely grazed the surface of the windowsill, my heart beating faster with every passing second.

If I fell, I'd die. And, it would hurt.

My palms were already getting sweaty and I could feel my pulse in my fingertips.

"My liege!" A panicked voice yelled out, knocking harshly on the oak door.

I breathed out a relieved sigh that I had made it over the ledge before this man saw me – albeit barely.

I heard the oak door swing open, "what?"

"The outlaws are attacking from the west side as well. It's a full-on ambush out there and we're running out of men to fight the battles. We've no other resources." The voice cracked in panic.

"What do you mean no other resources?" The king demanded.

"One of the commanders sent dozens of men out to search for the outlaws in Sherwood. We're out of at least sixty men."

King Wesley let out an angry, gruff sigh. "Where is this commander?"

"In the Great Room. That is, if the outlaws haven't slaughtered him yet, My liege."

I cringed, putting my head against the wood I clung to, hoping to God it wasn't Parker they were referring to. After everything I had done to him, he didn't deserve to die by Wesley's brutal hand.

The king sighed again. "Where is the ambush happening?"

"The west wing, right outside the plateau."

"On the plateau?" King Wesley grew irritated, his voice coming out with a faint edge of stress.

I heard his contemplative steps come closer to the window I was hanging outside of.

I moved my fingers away from the sill, keeping balance on the small overhang that my feet sat on. I forced myself not to look down, making sure I wouldn't scare myself into falling to my death. The terror didn't subside, though.

"It's a distraction." The king determined, looking out the window. His cape made a whooshing sound as he turned, swinging behind him and sending air blowing above my head. I heard a few steps of the king's steel boots before his voice rang out again, "make sure he stays put." King Wesley took two steps forward before abruptly turning back and adding, "and keep him alive."

"Yes, sir." The soldiers' unified response came loud and quick.

The king and another set of footsteps fell down the hall and away from me.

I waited for a few moments after the door slammed shut at the other end of the hall before carefully pulling myself onto the sill. My heart throbbed a painful set of beats when I landed on the floor of the hallway, relief flooding through me.

Focus, I told myself. My eyes narrowed in on the door where I heard two muffled voices coming from. I walked, quietly, to the archway that two men stood inside of. The door sat cracked open, and I took no hesitation in peering inside.

I spotted Enders, sitting on his knees, gaze stuck on the men. His eyes were dazed and lolled in his head every time he blinked.

"Why should we leave him alive? We should kill him and be done, Simon!" Gregory, an old man with a small stubble on his face pleaded.

"The king has ordered us to leave him be." Simon said, shaking off Gregory's pleas.

Gregory shook head and sighed. He stood still for a moment as Simon stepped away, toward a window. "Fine," Gregory huffed. The intensity in the room rose with each passing second. "If you don't do it, I will."

Gregory stalked toward Enders, unsheathing his sword and holding it ready.

Before I could think better of it, I dove into the room, out of breath and disheveled. "Please!" I cried, my mind running so fast I could barely keep up. "They were down the hall. I don't know how to escape this part of the castle! You must help me!"

The young one – Simon – walked toward me, concern and fury in his gaze. "Where are they now?!"

"I don't know!" I shrieked, feigning alarm. I was distressed, so that wasn't hard to forge, but the voice that came from my mouth was too loud to feel like my own. "I need to get out of here!"

Just keep it up! I told myself, shaking off the desire to stop talking like an idiot.

"Harlow, right?" Simon asked me, coming closer. He placed a hand on my upper arm. "You're Parker's soon-to-be wife?"

I nodded, my throat feeling too dry and restricted to speak. It took every ounce of my will-power to not look at Enders. Instead, I kept my eyes strictly on Simon.

"Okay," He said comfortingly, offering a smile. "You'll go downstairs, the way that you came up. You'll be able to find that, right?"

I nodded. Of course I'd be able to find that.

"You'll take that stairwell to the Great Room and go into the kitchens. There is a door behind a cart full of flour. That door leads outside. Follow the normal roads until you get to Edwinstowe. I assure you that Parker will meet you at the inn there in two days' time." Simon tilted his face lower to get a better look at mine.

"Alright." I nodded, and then took in a deep, heavy breath. Why had he been so nice? I wished – for once – that someone was mean. "I'll take this torch, if I may? It's dark in the kitchens and so bright up here."

"Of course," Simon smiled and lifted the torch from the wall, handing it to me.

I took the torch from his hand and frowned.

"What's wrong?"

I shook my head and took a deep breath. "Nothing, Simon. Thank you for your kindness." I didn't wait for his reply, taking the bottom end of the torch and slamming it over the crown of his head.

His body crumpled without protest, falling over, unconscious, his head bleeding and his hair catching a small flame.

Maybe it wasn't the best course of action, but it was the only thing I could do.

Everything happened so fast.

I took a step further into the room, seeing Gregory coming after me. I quickly turned to the table at my side and snatched up a small knife from a dinner tray, plunging it deep into his chest.

His cry of pain made me cringe, but the pain did not deter him from coming forward with his unsheathed blade.

I took two steps backward, grabbing a fire poker that sat lonely against the wall. I tested the weight in my hand and felt the foreignness of it, but quickly grew comfortable as Gregory stalked toward me with predatory eyes.

I took another cautious step forward and stared up at him from below my eyelashes as we danced in a circle around each other.

Gregory stared back at me, attempting – but failing – to mask his pain.

I kept my gaze even, holding the fire poker out in front of me.

Then, he blinked and his gaze faltered with the onset of pain.

I took advantage of his thoughtlessness to lunge forward and plummet the poker into his chest. His feet moved him back with the momentum, and I released the poker to let him fall, convulsions wracking his body as he went down.

Seeing the body made me freeze.

Stop. There isn't time for a guilty conscious.

Breaking free of the memory I knew would haunt me the rest of my days, I ran to Enders, who sat, staring at me in shock and horror.

I wished I could erase that look. Hell, I wished I could erase a lot of things.

He'd just seen me kill a man, and he had many times, but this was different. I was a woman, in a dress, and I had just killed a knight in front of the man I was arranged to marry.

One of the men I am arranged to marry...I thought, and even though I hadn't said those words, they still left a bitter taste in my mouth. I wanted to roll my eyes at the thought because while it was kind of true, it wasn't.

"Harlow," he said my name. I wanted to revel in the sound, and in the way his voice echoed in my ears, but instead I shook the feelings from my heart and stared at him.

"We have to go. Now." I said, going behind his back and pulling apart the ropes that bound his hands together.

"Harlow," He exhaled my name. His heart was beating so hard, I could feel it in his arms as I untied him.

I dropped the ropes, taking his hand and pulling him up to his feet. I averted my eyes from him, somehow ashamed of all the things I'd done to free him, and focused only on dragging him out of the room. I pulled him behind me as we rushed down the corridor to our right, Enders stumbling every so often, but surprisingly keeping pace with me.

I tried not to focus on anything but getting him out of this God-forsaken castle, which I found was easier to do because of all the screaming and fighting happening downstairs. The sounds were echoing up to us and I felt monstrous at how comforted by it I was – because it meant outlaws were still there.

I came to the ledge I'd climbed over to get to the sun-lit corridor and peered over its edge.

The exit was farther down the hall and through the door I couldn't open.

A small war still waged on, although it wasn't looking good for the outlaws. Reinforcements from the king were pushing them back. Blood sat on the floor in renegade puddles, and dead bodies littered the Great Room. Almost all of them were the king's knights.

"The outlaws began their attack here on the south end, through the kitchen, but they've set up another ambush in the west." I pulled Enders away from the ledge and down to the staircase.

Enders breathed in hard, squeezing my hand as if he'd never be able to again.

"They're going to run out of men and arrows soon, so we have to get out now." I said as I picked up the pace.

I glanced back, seeing Enders struggling to keep his eyes open in the sunlight of the hallway. His skin was an intense pale and he seemed weak, but he had a strong spirit and will. I'd have to trust that his strength would last him.

We made it to the door at the end of the hall on wobbling and shuffling feet.

The first thing my eyes narrowed on was a chair braced against the doorknob. A growl of frustration blew past my lips. I took the chair and whipped it away from the door, sliding it across the floor and away from me.

Enders leaned against a wall next to the door while I took the doorknob in my hand. I placed my other hand on the door, mentally bracing myself.

Glancing to Enders, I nodded. "Ready?"

The look in his eyes was desperate as he nodded. "Aye."

I turned the knob and opened the door as slowly as possible.

A squeak echoed in the room. Torches lit up a carefully designed study and strategy quarters.

I walked in and determined the room abandoned. With Enders following close behind me, I walked over the door on the right side of the fully furnished and decorated room and pulled open the second door.

A dark stairwell greeted us, and knowing that there was no other way out, I wasted no time in rushing down the steps. Enders followed behind, somehow finding the energy to keep up with me.

Enders rested a hand on my back, gently pushing me down the stairs.

His trembling hand filled me with both dread and motivation to get out of this darkness.

When we made it to the bottom with no problem, my eyes searched the room. As I had dreaded, the door to the king's chambers was wide open and the Great Room beyond the secret staircase was empty.

Apprehensively, I walked into the Great Room, snaking against the walls, Enders following behind.

I felt his shock as he stared out over the dead bodies. Most had been knights, yes, but six outlaws laid dead on the Great Room floor.

They were mostly older men, and I only barely recognized one of them. I didn't have it in me to cry for him at the moment, but I knew I would when we were back in camp.

It was deserted and messy. Plates and food littered the floor.

I reached behind me and took Enders' hand, pulling him toward the kitchen exit, and following the wall as I walked. Enders followed close behind me and squeezed my hand tightly.

The wall came to an end, opening into a large archway on the left side of the room. The kitchen sat on the other end, a small curtain hung over the entrance.

I eyed the room suspiciously, pausing for a moment before propelling myself to the other end of the room, and pulling Enders along with me.

"Let's go," I breathed out, excited to see the exit I'd been dying to get to.

My hand yanked back and pulled me to an abrupt stop. I gasped, spinning around at the feel of Enders' hand being torn from mine. I took two steps back, my mind not completely understanding what I was seeing.

Before me was King Wesley, holding Enders by the arm, a sword at his throat. The king bore his eyes into me, scanning me up and down, an eyebrow raised.

"A maid?" King Wesley's voice was smooth, and I would have described it as charismatic if I hadn't known how evil he was. His demeanor was cynical, angry. His frustration was written all over his face. "Yet, I do not recognize you."

I stared at the scene before me, mouth hung agape, eyes turned wide in horror, dread lacing down my veins like a cooling river.

This couldn't be happening.

Panic rose from my heart and laced through me like vines on an abandoned cabin.

I didn't have a single weapon on me, and here was the king – my grandfather – holding one to Enders' neck.

"Nothing to say?" The king asked, his eyebrow still raised and a smile on the edge of his lips. "What if I dig this blade into his throat? Then will you speak?"

I paused for a moment before trying to compose myself. Anger started to boil when my initial shock started to fade. "I will speak regardless."

"Who are you?" The king demanded. The malice in his voice seeped out like sap from a grand maple tree.

"One of your maids." I sneered.

What was the point of hiding my hatred anymore?

King Wesley laughed bitterly, stretching his face into fury.

"Do not mock me!" He boomed, boring his eyes into mine. "If you lie to me, he dies." The king warned, pressing the blade more into Enders' throat. "Who are you?"

I smiled devilishly, raising an eyebrow, and a smug smile on my lips. I surprised myself by being even more composed than I thought possible. "I am an outlaw."

King Wesley's shoulders shook once as he laughed bitterly – an evil tone. "I said do not lie to me! You expect me to believe that Robin Hood is employing women?"

I smiled still, taking a small opportunity to glance around the room. I spotted a table to my left that had not been turned upside down in the chaos.

Side-stepping toward that table, where the middle of the Great Room sat, I moved a bit closer, trying as hard as I could to be inconspicuous and portray the arrogance of someone who believed they were outside of the law.

I shook my head as I looked back at the king's evil eyes – eyes, I realized with an inward shudder, that were exactly like my own. Taking a deep breath, I said: "You don't exactly have to believe it."

"The life of this outlaw depends on your word. Do you not care?" There was a slow, sickening happiness on the brim of his voice, dripping from him like molasses.

From what I saw of him, the only time he showed happiness was when he held someone's life in his hands.

Right, I thought, that is exactly right.

Enders held a hard expression, refusing to let himself get sucked into this situation. He would never give up, I knew that, but he wasn't exactly fighting either.

Then, I realized that Enders wasn't fighting because he didn't want to fight anymore.

Nothing could stop the animosity rising from the pit of my stomach when the fog in my mind cleared.

They broke him. They made him wish to die...

I narrowed my eyes on King Wesley, wanting nothing more than to strike him as hard as I could and skin him alive. I had never considered myself a violent person. I only defended myself when I deemed it necessary, but now, I understood how my father could kill so mercilessly. These men he fought had stood around and watched my mother – the woman he loved – die.

I would be damned if I let the same thing happen to me.

"I already mentioned that I'm an outlaw. I have no reason to care for anyone other than myself." I shrugged at the king, taking another insignificant step to the left.

"I don't believe you." King Wesley narrowed his eyes at me and sneered. His gray hair was masked by his golden crown, and his maroon-colored robes detracted from his malicious expression. His nostrils flared angrily, and he was trying to mask his anger with some hidden charisma, but I knew better than to fall for that. He narrowed his eyes at me.

"I don't expect you to," I said, glancing back and realizing that I was now in front of the table I'd been trying to get to. I leaned against it. "But," I said, holding up a finger, "who should ever trust an outlaw?"

He laughed, part of him seeming bitter and another part of him seeming amused. "Yes, no one should believe an outlaw, but you are no outlaw."

I kept my finger up, a smirk on my lips. "Yes," I mocked him. "I'm not simply an outlaw."

I placed my hands on the edge of the table, letting myself lean on the edge of the wood. I picked up a renegade apple and took a bite. "Delicious," I commented, looking at the apple endearingly while placing my other hand behind me, letting my fingertips gently roam over the random items on top of the table. My fingers finally came to a random carving knife I'd placed there that morning, and I felt a prompt sigh of relief wash over me.

"You take another step and I'll kill you." The king warned. His voice registered more annoyed than angry. I couldn't tell if his nonchalance was sincere.

A cold stare pierced my eyes as I took another slow, cautious bite into the apple.

I placed the apple back onto the table I leaned against, earning a disgusted look from the king before me.

Obviously, he had never seen his cook make the food he ate.

King Wesley moved his eyes, from me to the apple and then to me once again. The rest of his body was stoic and lifeless, Enders held firmly in his grasp.

I took a good look at him while returning his cold stare. He was older, but not elderly. He was fit and slender with a semi-tall stature, towering over me, but only inches taller than Enders. His brown eyes were a color that I knew matched my own. His wicked smile was one that sickened me to my stomach, not because it was evil, but because, this close, I could see that it resembled my face too well.

Quickly I pushed myself up, while slipping the carving knife from the table top and into the sleeve at my wrist.

"I'm done playing games with you. Tell me who you are." The king demanded, his voice quiet and nonchalant in a way that sent chills down my spine. He gave off this idea that he just didn't care enough about us as people– and it was weird because with all the training and everything that my father had taught me, I could not figure out what he was planning.

I felt my heart start to beat faster, and panic rise within my belly. My palms became sweaty as I wondered if Enders and I could even get out of this alive.

I turned my head downward, appearing to be thinking, when I was really sneaking glances around the room in my peripheral vision, but there was nothing. There were no outlaws to help us – but luckily there were no soldiers either.

There were no options. At all.

"Answer me!" Wesley shouted, and I could have sworn my blood quaked in my veins before I was able to dig up anger in my soul and the courage to speak.

"My name is Harlow McBride," I said, my posture going rigid and my tone dripping with the revenge I'd begun vying for. "My father is Harrison McBride. My mother was your daughter, Princess Katherine of England, whom you murdered."

King Wesley's anger weakened for the briefest of moments. His eyes went soft and he stared at me like he'd found what he'd been missing for a very long time. His hand trembled a bit and lowered an inch or two away from Enders' neck as he stared. Even his shoulder slumped down a bit.

Wesley looked at me like he could almost adore me, and everything in my brain told me it was a trick, but I knew in that moment that I would never be able to get that image out of my head.

Here, I expected violence. I expected him to throw Enders aside and attack. Instead, he looked at me wistfully, as if his hopes and aspirations were being restored before his eyes.

I was baffled by it, but when I tore my eyes from Wesley's face and found Enders' unsure expression, I couldn't care enough to ponder on the weird reaction.

It was like Enders was looking through me, and not really seeing. He withdrew into himself, uncaring about what was going to happen to him.

No, I felt my chest constrict and my soul die just a little bit. This cannot be happening.

I clenched my jaw, everything in me coming to a halt as I dropped the sharp blade from my sleeve and held it in a tight grasp. I let my eyes dart to Wesley and let my hand lift as I flung it harshly at my grandfather's arm.

There was a rumble of a pain as Wesley lifted a hand to the place where my knife impaled his skin, only an inch away from Enders' throat.

Enders scattered away from the king, grabbing one of the many swords that littered the floor. My outlaw held up the blade, looking at the man evenly, coldly.

"Come on, Enders," I said, moving backward toward the kitchen.

Enders panted, taking a step backward.

He was brave, but I could see fear in every movement of his body. I didn't blame him; this man had given the order for Enders to be tortured, underfed, and kept in a cell. Anybody in their right mind would have been afraid.

King Wesley sprung forward, seizing Enders' newfound sword's blade with his bare hand, and twisting it out of Enders' shaking palm. The blade glinted in the torch light as the metal met flesh and the shimmer of its blade mingled with blood. King Wesley held onto the sword until he'd pried it from Enders' hands, blood dripping down from his palm and making a small puddle on the floor.

Pain didn't deter him. The king turned the blade and hit Enders in the stomach with the hilt of the sword, kicking him once in the gut, before turning his eyes on me. He stared at me, keeping the sword in his hand while he reached for the small carving knife that stuck into the flesh of his shoulder. He pulled it out of his body with barely a flinch, keeping his eyes on me the entire time. I watched as King Wesley dropped the blade, letting it fall to the ground with an eerie echo.

Horror washed over me as he stood over Enders, the sword hovering just over Enders' chest.

The glint of delight in this man's eyes as he looked down at my outlaw sickened me more than anything I'd ever witnessed.

Enders scrambled back and stood on wobbling legs. He tried to compose himself as he found his way to his feet. "Kill me."

I let my jaw drop as I watched Enders come a step closer to the king and the sword that sat strongly in Wesley's hand.

I was only several feet back. Maybe I could rush forward and snatch the sword away? Maybe we could run? Maybe we could get away? I was letting my mind run wild with ideas. I couldn't focus, and I knew that I was processing the words late.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" The king sneered, an eyebrow raised. "Too bad you're still useful."

Enders laughed bitterly. "I'm better off dead."

I felt my heart ache at the words. I took one small step forward, but found myself stopping before I got close enough to do anything.

"You, girl," King Wesley said to me, addressing me generically. "You move one more time, and I will kill him."

Although my heart ached and my throat was dry, I managed to get out a small squeak in response.

"Do you want to be responsible for his death?" King Wesley asked, finally taking one long glance at me before putting his attention back on Enders and squaring his shoulders.

I wanted to look around the room but decided not to. What if he really meant his threat and killed Enders because I'd moved my head?

"Do it." Enders said, standing tall before Wesley. He lifted his head and looked directly into the king's eyes. "Kill me."

King Wesley's lips twitched. He wanted to broaden his smile but refused to give into the impulse. "Why should I?"

Enders narrowed his eyes on the man before him. "I'm the son of the man who single handedly killed thousands of your soldiers. I'm the son of a thief and a liar, an ex-nobleman and an outlaw. My father could bring down your entire throne. If I aid him in that conquest, your reign could end." Enders chuckled, disgust and disdain in his voice. He took a step closer to King Wesley, the point of the king's blade poking into Enders' chest. "I'm valuable only to the outlaws. Kill me and let her go."

"Let her go?" The king finally gave into his impulse to smile. "She isn't going anywhere. She's far more useful than you are. It would be bad strategy to let her free."

"Ah, yes. Strategy is important." Enders said, a tired look in his eyes. "I'm sure you knew that before, King Wesley. I'm sure you know many things," Enders held his eyes on the king, "except where Robin Hood dwells."

The king's expression stilled in a cold glare.

"Not surprising," Enders shrugged, "for such an incompetent king."

The anger in Wesley's eyes was enough to put the fear of God in me. His eyes flashed with belligerence. He lowered his sword and took a step forward until he stared into Enders' eyes. "On your knees."

Enders exhaled. "No. If you kill me, I will die with my pride."

"Outlaws have no pride!" The king shouted, his anger echoing off the walls and bouncing throughout the Great Room.

"I do," Enders growled, holding his defiant gaze, and keeping his voice calm.

"Then, you will die for your pride."

I watched as Enders closed his eyes, accepting and expecting his own demise. King Wesley brought back the sword in his hand and was just about to propel it forward, into the Enders' heart.

I wanted to rush forward but found that I couldn't move.

Doomsh! Bang!

The sounded shoved me back into reality. I lunged forward, taking Enders' hand and pulling him a step backward.

A giant piece of stone cascaded over King Wesley's head and fell to the floor before the us.

The king immediately crumpled to the ground in a heap of maroon fabric and gold.

Enders stood in shock beside me, staring at Wesley's body, lying on the Great Room floor.

My eyes darted up to the place he'd been standing and found a woman there, heaving in deep breaths.

Her pale skin and brown eyes seemed to radiate with strength; her dress was worn out and torn in many places. The woman's face was straight and V-shaped. Her long, light brown hair flowed down over her shoulder, although I could see the gray streaks of many sleepless nights in them. The woman lifted her chin to Enders and me and heaved in ragged breaths, letting them echo throughout the room.

"Go now," the woman breathed, her pale skin and dirty dress making her look peasant-like and filthy.

Enders nodded and turned around, pulling on my hand, but my body refusing to budge. I stared at the woman, trying to place her face with one of my many fleeting memories.

There was something so familiar about her, but I couldn't pinpoint what exactly.

Instead, I stared at the woman who stood doubled over, her hands resting on her knees, keeping herself up. It was almost as if her body was threatening to give up on her.

I squinted at her, trying to fit a name with a face.

The woman looked up and offered a stern look. "You need to leave. Now."

I looked between the woman and the king's body lying on the floor. I found myself speechless as I set my gaze on the pathetic figure on the ground.

This woman and the king had the same hair color and texture. I recalled the color of the tyrannous king's eyes: a light shade of brown – my own eyes. I looked to the woman, noticing that their eyes matched exactly.

Coincidence.

I took a meek step forward, shaking off the thought. My words came flying from my mouth before I could stop them. "Come with us."

The woman shook her head, her breathing slowing down to a normal rate. "No. I can't. I would only slow you down."

Enders gave a small, impatient tug on my hand. I knew he was pressured and scared. He wanted to be done with this place, but how could anybody simply walk away from a woman who looked so battered and beaten by all the elements.

"Harlow," The woman said sternly, a warning that I needed to listen, "Don't worry about me. I can deal with my own father." She rested her eyes on Enders, "Get her out of here, and don't let her come back."

The woman's words finally hit me. The number of questions that flew through my mind were uncountable.

Who is she?

How did she know my name?

King Wesley is her father?

Why is she here?

Why does it look like she knows Enders?

Enders set his eyes on mine, watching the words sink into my mind, and then finally seeing the moment when I realized what those words meant.

"Thank you." Enders said, before taking my hand and pulling me in the other direction.

"Father?" I asked. I refused to budge from the ground under my feet. I looked down at the body of the pathetic man before us.

That's impossible. That would make this woman...

"...the Princess." I said the words aloud. My body became stiff and I felt myself become a rock – immovable. My vocal chords refused to produce all the questions in my head, but the one on the tip of my tongue stood out the most: are you Katherine? My mother?

I would realize what a ridiculous question that was when I would sit down and think on it later because Wesley only had one child, and that child was my mother.

Enders pulled on my hand again, trying to tug me along with him – to get us out of there, but I wouldn't move.

"Mother?" The word came out almost inaudibly at first.

I barely felt the contact of Enders' arms as he wrapped them around my midsection and pulled. I laid my eyes on the woman before me, looking over her garments – dirty and torn with age. She'd been imprisoned for a long time; I knew that much from the way she looked.

My suspicions and deepest fears were coming true all at one time. My darkest wish and what would prove to be my biggest weakness: my mother.

And, she was alive.

"Go, now!" Princess Katherine yelled, pointing toward the kitchen exit as the sound of soldiers' armor came clanking down the hallways and echoing throughout the halls.

I wanted to say something, anything, but nothing came out. I found myself stuck in my own body, my words trapped inside of me. There was so much to say, so much to do, but nothing would be said or done as Enders dragged me away.

Enders took three steps backward with me raised off the ground, my feet dangling like a rag doll, before I started struggling. He backed away more and more, and the more he took me away from my mother, the more I struggled. I made small whimpers and started kicking my legs.

"Mother!" I called out, the word bouncing off walls and curtains, finding its way to my mother's ears.

Enders continued pulling me back.

I struggled against him even harder.

"Harlow, go!" The woman shouted again, her pale, weak figure no longer glowing with the strength she once had.

"No!" I shouted, pushing against Enders. "Mama!" I kicked, trying to break free of his hold.

He summoned the last of his strength and dragged me closer to the door.

I held out one arm, trying to reach for my mother, as if I could extend my body across the room and embrace the woman. I watched my mother's figure go weak, watched as the ability to stand left her.

This woman stood over King Wesley's body, disgust written on her face as soldiers ran in and stared at the scene before them. They didn't advance on her; they stood around her and took glances between her and the king.

Enders dragged me through the Great Room archway, taking me away from my mother, for what I thought would be the last time. He hurriedly pulled open a door, leading to a stairway in the kitchen. It was dark, but Enders ducked into the tunnel, still holding onto me sternly.

I felt dazed, everything happening in a blur. I tried to turn back twice, but Enders held me steady, finally allowing me to run in front of him so we could finally escape. He kept a stern hand on my back as we ran down the hallway.

He was being my rock because I couldn't be strong for myself. He accepted that whole-heartedly and I felt a rush of selfishness come over me as I realized that Enders was extremely malnourished and then I had made him drag me away from the Great Room.

Halfway to the exit, I had composed myself and knew that I couldn't go back unless I wanted to die. I only breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted light at the end of the tunnel.

It took two minutes before we broke out from the dark tunnel and into the sunlight, pushing open a door and rushing into the warmth we both missed so dearly.

We were greeted with the sounds of battle, screaming, and arrows. Green-tipped arrows flew around us, implanting themselves in the ground and protruding from dirt.

I tried to adjust to the light from the depths of the dark castle, but as soon as I could see, I noticed the cavalry of outlaws pulling back and retreating into the forest.

Robin stood at our right, in the far distance, focusing on protecting soldiers standing just before him on a lower patch of grass, while an entire unit was deployed to deal with archers from castle windows. Robin and several other commanders, including Reggie, stood around the upper bank, shooting off arrows and downing as many knights as possible.

I quickly searched the area for my father, but couldn't find any sign of his presence. It struck a chord of fright in me that made me sick, but instead of focusing on it, I turned my attention to the battlefield.

I gave the area one more glance before I took Enders' hand, and rushed quickly to the right, following along the castle walls.

Robin was the only person I entrusted to keep Enders safe, and if that meant I was going to protect him while we ran into the middle of battlefield, that's exactly what I would do.

I ran, keeping Enders' warm hand in mine, and making sure he kept up with me. I looked to my left, knowing that large wood walls were all that remained on my right.

I saw Robin Hood still in the same place that he was just moments before, still firing arrows wherever – and into whoever – he saw fit.

I felt my lungs start to burn as I ran and I knew Enders would be having some trouble keeping up as well.

But, he wouldn't give up now.

We were just a few feet from my goal: to be in Robin's line of sight.

I smiled a huge, happy smile when we arrived in a spot where Robin should have been able to see us.

He'll see us! In just a moment! He has to!

I kept telling myself that Robin would see us and push as hard as he could, and everyone would return to Sherwood safely.

Robin scanned the area, and just as Enders and I stepped into what would have been his line of sight, he started in the opposite direction. Robin scanned the area once before looking forward again, away from us.

I strung together expletives that would embarrass my father if he heard. My only hope was gone, and we were on our own. There was no way to grab his attention. I couldn't, and wouldn't, yell out his name in front of all these soldiers. It would then only take a smart knight to realize which of them was Robin.

I looked to my left, seeing the outlaws push back only slightly, making my stomach twist and turn violently.

Only a few seconds passed before I heard a loud, long shout from a far-off distance. "Look over there!"

Immediately, I turned my head in the direction the shout had come from. Elwin stood, pointing at the two of them from across the plateau, a huge smile plastered on his face and his bow in his other hand, watching incredulously as he saw us come forward from the shadows.

Only the commanders and other leading men looked up. Everyone else knew enough to keep focusing on the knights that were progressing on them.

Robin, along with six other men turned around and stared in the direction of Elwin's pointing. Almost at the same time, they all ran toward us on the plateau, picking up their positions and readying their bows. Reggie and Elwin were within the group and I felt a stab of pride at the fact that I'd been their leader at one time.

Robin wore a huge smile, although he was obviously deeply concern, as he stared down his bow and let several arrows fly into the battlefield.

I watched as Robin yelled to another man, who yelled to several others.

The several others ran to help the initial seven men, pulling out their bows and arrows, sending down a storm of wood and stone upon the knights.

I bent down, picking up two renegade arrows, holding them gently in my hand and knowing that this small piece of wood would soon be the end of someone's life.

I grabbed Enders' hand, giving him one of the arrows, and taking a small look at him

He'd seemed to be relying on his reserves of energy, but he also looked so much better now that he'd been in the sun.

The bags under his eyes didn't look as bad and his figure didn't look nearly as weak as it had before. His face was stoic and determined. He gave me one look, which I returned. He turned his eyes back to the plateau, letting my hand drop and nodding once.

I waited for a moment. Any second now, the knights would realize who we were and come after us.

I looked over the field and felt a sense of hope. We could do this. I could protect Enders.

We would both make it to the other side.

"Now," I said quietly, sending both of us into the middle of a battlefield.

### Chapter Twenty-eight

I ran into the flurry of weaponry, throwing and shoving people out of my way.

Enders did the same as he followed the path I had made before him.

He was so tired. I could see it in every single motion he made, but he was fighting as hard as he could to make sure that he made it out.

We were so close and I'd be damned if I let him die now.

It took about five seconds of absolute confusion for the knights to figure out that their prisoner and a mere castle-hand were working together.

"The prisoner!" One shout rang out next to me, a little too close for my comfort.

I felt a hand grab onto my arm and paused running. I turned to the shouting man, waiting for only a moment before using all my force to throw my fist at the man's jaw.

He stumbled back for a second before anger flared in his eyes, and he came back after me.

I dodged his first blow, ducking my body low, and when I stood back up, I used all my available force, plunging the arrow deep into his chest, his blood pouring out from the wound like water from a shattered glass.

The man let out a sickening gurgle before dropping to his knees.

The disgust that rose in my throat was almost overwhelming, but I shoved it down; I didn't have a choice.

I wondered for a moment, looking at the blood on my hands, whether he really deserved to die.

The battle on the field seemed to be continuing in slow motion, as I looked to my hands and back to the body that lay at my feet. I found myself wondering if this image would haunt me later.

A full second passed before my thoughts started moving again, and time sped up to normal. I looked around, seeing Enders struggling with a man, his arrow in his hand and ready to strike and the knight advancing on him with a grim expression – like the knight didn't even want to be there, much less fighting.

I reached down, refusing to look at the dead man's eyes, and pulled the arrow out of his chest.

I sprinted forward and shoved my arrow into this man's stomach, giving Enders the opportunity to plunge his arrow into the man's chest, making his body go limp. Blood soaked our hands as we stood.

I gave it no thought, deciding that it was better to keep running than to look at the men I had killed or at the destruction that I was causing.

We were only about fifteen paces away from Robin, who stood, shooting arrows behind us and killing anyone who wanted to come after Enders and me.

Man after man fell dead behind us as they attempted to capture or kill us.

Disgusting gurgling sounds, screams, and blood stained my memory. It made me sick of everything and everyone. If I could, in that moment, curl into a ball and lay still on the floor, I would have.

We were getting closer to Robin, my legs burning along with my lungs. I breathed in ragged, labored breaths that refused to calm for even a moment.

But, I refused to give up and Enders refused to die.

Just as I was about to make it to the last ten feet before the outlaws, a hand grabbed me and pulled me back. I lost all the balance I had in my body. As I lay on the ground, dazed somewhat, I turned my head, searching for Enders, finding him trapped under another man as well.

Enders was struggling and fighting to keep a sword from coming down on his chest.

Panic filled me at the sight, and grew even greater when I turned to look at the man kneeling above me. Why he hadn't been shot yet was beyond me.

"A servant running with outlaws?" He sneered, his sickening breath washing over me and yellowing teeth peeking out from behind his lips. "I thought you were Parker's bride," he sneered again. It was clear that he reveled in my discomfort and that was what disturbed me the most.

Just as I was about to kick up my legs, I felt the weight of his body fall limp; dead. Warm liquid seeped from his neck and leaked onto my skin. I felt the presence of a dead man in my personal space and it was excruciating to keep calm.

Using all the strength I had left, I pushed the man off me, turning my head to Enders, worry and panic lacing together in my brain and on my face.

I saw Enders covered in blood, pushing a dead man from his body as well, his expression disgusted, but unharmed.

I usually wouldn't have noticed the angles of arrows, but this one struck me the second I saw it. The arrow that had saved Enders came from the outlaws, but the one that protruded from the man that had been on top of me, stuck out from the man's back. I examined the angle for a split second before knowing that it came from the opposite direction as the outlaws.

From the castle.

I looked up from the body and saw the silence that fell upon the battlefield, as the soldiers started realizing what exactly had happened.

"Up there!" One man shouted, his eyes pointed to one of the castle windows.

I turned my head, expecting the worst.

While the soldiers were preoccupied watching the windows – faces confused and concerned – the outlaws pulled back, coming off the knight's radar and rushing back to where Robin stood on the higher bank.

I stood next to Enders, who sat bewildered on the grass. I followed the soldier's pointing finger to a man standing in a large archway, his bow raised, light brown hair gently swinging above his eyes. The hair on this figure was the first thing to capture my attention, the sun's rays bouncing off the strands and making them glisten in the light. It made my heart stop and flutter. Panic and worry crept up my spine. It took a few extra moments for my vision to focus completely, my hands rising and covering my eyes. I was fully aware of Enders sitting at my feet.

The face that I eventually recognized was one that made my heart ache and my body cringe with guilt.

Parker?

I held onto his gaze for what felt like an eternity.

But, he never moved. His eyebrows hovered angrily over his eyelashes. His face was hard and stern. He was furious, enraged, humiliated. All these feelings made themselves clear in his every detail. He'd finally realized that he'd been played.

Used. Tricked. By outlaws, no less.

I was ready for a full-fledged attack on the outlaws. Instead, I saw a harsh nod in my direction, his eyes on my own.

It wasn't a message of attack; it was a sign to run back, to retreat. He was giving me the opportunity to leave in peace.

I stood frozen in time, as I watched his expression turn from anger to complete and utter pain. The pain only lasted for a split second, before his eyes flickered to Enders and his rage returned.

I broke out of the paralyzing effect Parker had on me, and I looked down to Enders, who stared at the man in the archway, also frozen.

Grabbing his arm and pulling him up, I spun around and darted into the forest behind me, tugging Enders along with me.

Enders stumbled at first but I watched him, grateful that his eyes had finally readjusted to the sunlight.

Then, we were running – all of us.

Voices and sounds of catastrophe rang through my head as we ran, but I couldn't focus.

I barely registered that I ran beside Enders, Reggie barking orders at Elwin and Rawley behind us. I didn't even think to search for my father – which should have been weird, but it wasn't because I was too shocked by everything that had just happened.

I couldn't speak; I could only run.

Our whole group came just a little farther into the woods, when I spotted my own father, standing off to my far right, bow in hand and ready to fire at any pursuing knights. He offered an ecstatic and relieved smile, but I found myself too damaged to offer a smile back.

Instead, I gave one weary glance, turning away before I felt pangs of guilt that I had left my mother behind.

Robin shouted for archers to cover us as we ran, but before I knew it, we were retreating to Sherwood with all the outlaws who had participated – those who had survived, anyway.

I wanted to look back and catch another glimpse of Parker as I ran, but I knew he was much too far behind us now.

My heart sent out fast, pained beats because I had deceived someone who had been there for me through all the trouble I had as a castle-hand. I wanted to reach out and take his hand, confess everything I'd done, make him understand why I had to do it.

I did it for Enders, I rationalized. I couldn't let him die.

I so wanted, in that moment, to tell him I was sorry for deceiving him, for hurting him, for making him believe in a future that would never be. I found myself angry and my heart struck with an undying sadness. I had used someone to my benefit and part of it felt so wrong.

Instead of indulging in my impulse to run back and find Parker, I kept my eyes hardened and directed forward. I held Enders' hand loosely in my own. My mother's face, Enders broken body, and Parker's pained eyes made me feel an anger rising deep in my abdomen.

I squeezed Enders' hand, knowing that he was the only reason I had enough strength to continue running. It was for him that I infiltrated the castle. It was for him that I risked my life.

Before, I had fought against one thought every time it entered my mind, but this time I let myself indulge in it: I loved Enders. He was the center of everything I'd done for the last few months.

And, it was for him that I simply kept running.

### Chapter Twenty-nine

I stood on a flattened, weather-eroded piece of gray stone. My elbows sat propped up on a piece of burnt wood that sat horizontally, overlooking the village lake.

It wasn't the Sherwood bridge, but it would have to do for now.

I spotted the destroyed marketplace on the other end of the lake, buildings torn to pieces and fire-burnt wood scattering the walkways.

Dozens of people walked around, picking up and repairing the destruction that was Dexthorpe.

I was home, but the feeling was far more unpleasant and bitter than it was sweet. The whole reason I'd left this home was to protect myself, and now I was back here because I'd managed to fail at even that.

My father had spent years protecting my name and identity, ensuring that nobody knew my lineage. He provided me with a peaceful future.

And, I threw it away when I ran away from Dexthorpe. I threw it away when I told King Wesley that I was his granddaughter. I had undone all my father's hard work in fell swoop.

I scoffed, looking over the lake.

Wasn't it selfish of me to run away from my people in the first place? Sure, I hadn't belonged anymore, but I had been selfish because I saw my people struggling for years and I did nothing to stop it.

My people, I realized, these people were my people and I did not protect them. They needed someone when King Wesley ordered their slaughter and I did nothing.

I'd learned many lessons from Sherwood, but I wondered often if my leaving was all in vain. Would things have been different if I had been there when the knight's stormed into this village? Would some of these people have survived if I had been there to surrender?

It had been an entire year since I'd left, and regardless of the slight amount of comfort I felt, I couldn't shake the feeling that this fight wasn't over, and the worst was yet to come.

Until then, though, I just wanted to rebuild all that once was.

I closed my eyes, feeling the wind on my face, and lasting about five seconds before the pale, mistreated, and malnourished face of my mother invaded my thoughts and forced my eyes open.

That one memory brought others to the surface, and before I could think better of letting my mind wander, I found myself thinking about Enders. Again.

It's been a month, I thought, still leaning over the railing, my fingertips fiddling with a piece of string. A whole month.

I sighed, staring out over the lake and flipping through the memories I wished I could forget.

Five Days Earlier

I felt a cold breeze touch my cheeks as I stared out over the Rainworth Water ravine. The water glistened in the sun and the trees swayed with the gentle breeze. It was the only peace I'd felt in the last few months and it was so refreshing that I'd already been on the bridge for two hours. I had pulled off my boots and set them aside, reaching one of my feet down into the water while I laid back on the wooden bridge. I stared up at the horizon, thinking about everything and nothing at the same time.

I sat that way for about five minutes before the bridge rhythmically creaked under me: footsteps.

I didn't have to look to know that it was Enders who sat next to me. I kept my eyes pointed toward the blue horizon above, looking over the small clouds that sat amid my vision.

We let the silence sit comfortably between us.

Enders leaned back on his palms, raising one of his knees up and taking in a deep breath of air. "I told her about you."

I turned my eyes on him immediately, my eyebrows furrowed.

His hair swung gently above his eyes as he spoke, staring over the lake and off into the distance.

I found myself temporarily stunned, half because of what he'd said and half because of the way he looked – like he was finally at peace. "What?" I finally wheezed, trying to ease the pain of seeing my mother's face burned into the backs of my eyelids.

Enders shrugged, a sad smile on his lips. "She saw you bring me food and started asking me questions," he sighed, "something made me trust her, so I told her very simple details until she told me who she was."

I felt my eyes widen. I stared at Enders who kept his eyes out over the water.

" _She thinks you're brave," Enders said, finally turning his head to look at me, "like your father."_

I hung on every word Enders spoke for the rest of the conversation, as he detailed every expression and word he'd shared with my mother.

" _She thought it was hysterical when I told her that you disguised yourself as a man to get here." Enders smiled, a chuckle coming from deep within his chest._

I could only muster a smile. I was afraid that if I smiled I might start to cry, but I wanted to hear more anyway.

Minutes turned into hours, and eventually all of Enders' stories had been told.

Again, we let a comfortable silence fill the space between us.

" _I," Enders coughed, an almost awkward expression taking over him. He turned to me, "I told her about our engagement."_

I turned my eyes away from Enders, an awkward, weary feeling rising within me. I looked down at the water before turning them back up to look at him.

A blush of guilt washed over my cheeks.

I cringed, trying to block the memory from my mind.

I shook my head, ready to turn around and walk back to the tent I'd set up for myself as I helped rebuild the homes and marketplace that was once my home.

That's when I heard the gentle sound of a horse not far in the distance.

I raised an eyebrow, turning my head to see the commotion of voices and noises. I saw the horse first, before I looked up at the person atop the beast and my heart stuttered to what felt like a stop. I turned around and walked a few steps, before I started jogging toward him.

Enders lifted himself off the horse and led it to a bucket of water and a stack of hay that I had placed there that morning for my own horse.

The hay sat surrounded by the remains of my barn. It had broken my heart to see it ruined but it proved to be a useful place to let the horses graze.

I stopped just a yard or so away from him, my jaw slightly slack and my eyes widened and relieved.

At least he's okay.

He removed his hood, a mop of light brown hair showing itself as it swung above his eyebrows. He had a small stubble on his chin, something that caught me by surprise, because Enders usually kept himself well-groomed.

"Enders," I breathed as I took another, cautious step forward.

He nodded nonchalantly. "Harlow."

His physique had improved since his rescue from the castle. He'd gained all his muscle back and more. His face and hair looked more mature and stronger, but under all that I knew he was the same caring person he'd been before. He was just more worn out than he had been before, and it was written all over his face.

"You're here," I said when I found myself at a loss for other words.

Enders sighed as he took his horse's reins and tied them to a remnant of my barn. "I didn't come because you asked me to."

I cringed at the harshness of his words. I opened my mouth to speak: "I-"

"I only came because this place needed help." Enders said, pulling the rope tightly and securing the reins. He turned to face me. "That's it."

I was taken aback. I wanted to be frustrated, but couldn't find it in me to do so. He wasn't wrong to be angry, that much I knew. Instead, I decided to nod and keep conversation to a minimum.

"What do you need my help with?" He asked. He was transparently trying to keep his emotions in check, which I supposed I appreciated.

I nodded over to the marketplace, where several civilians were trying to lift walls and nail wooden panels together. "We're trying to rebuild the town center. Then, we'll focus on homes."

Enders nodded, taking off the green cloak that hung about his shoulders. "I'll head over there, then." He rested his cloak on his horses' back, and turned away from me.

"Thank you, Enders," I said in a voice I thought he probably couldn't hear.

"Aye." He said, still walking away. He rose a hand to let me know that he got the message, but he didn't bother to turn around and look at me.

I looked down, letting a deep exhale escape my lips.

What was I thinking the last time I spoke to him?

There was some apprehension, I remembered that clearly, but there was also a feeling that I was duty-bound to my country. I felt like I needed to explore that feeling before I did anything else – and only now was I thinking that may have been a mistake.

I felt my heart race and my stomach flip every time he came close to me, but on the same token, I felt the need to push him back because I needed time to sort out this weird path that my life had become.

Was it normal how much I wanted to be near him all the time?

" _What?" I asked. Uncertainty laced my lips._

Enders shrugged. "You were the only thing that kept me going all that time. Talking about you made it easier for me to get by."

I felt breathless. A slight bit of fear and apprehension rose from the depths of my chest. I wanted to ask why but I couldn't form the word.

" _She says it's a fitting idea. The son of the Prince of Thieves and the daughter of a princess." Enders smiled. He focused solely on the horizon over the ravine under our feet._

Silence sat for only a second before I could speak. I hadn't known I'd regret my words the second they came out of my mouth. "I can't marry you."

Enders turned his head to me slowly. He looked taken aback. Maybe it was shock, maybe it was relief. Maybe it was a mixture of both. I couldn't tell anymore.

" _This wasn't my decision. Our fathers made this decision. I can't live with such a huge choice being made for me. I want authority over my own life. I want to make my own choices and feel the consequences of only the things I've done. I can't be held down to things I never wanted," I said. I felt the fear in my heart as I said the words I held to be truth. My voice wasn't as steady as I wanted it to be, and even though I felt that what I said was right I couldn't stop the regret that bubbled in my chest._

" _You think I'll hold you down?" He asked. His eyes squinted at me and his eyebrows knitted together._

I couldn't answer. I looked out over Rainworth Water, feeling the queasy flip-flop of my stomach. "I can't risk my own freedom."

" _What were you doing back there, then?" Enders asked, his voice lacing with frustration and confusion. "You gave up freedom when you came to Newark Castle," he paused, looking back over the water. "You seemed to enjoy captivity just fine when Parker was around." He stood. His feet made the bridge groan._

I widened my eyes; my teeth gritted together in anger, and I picked myself up from the bridge so I could be eye level with him. "Do you think I ever wanted to be around Parker? I was there to save you!"

" _Then make up your mind!" Enders shouted. His voice echoed throughout the forest. He ran a hand over his face and took in a deep breath before composing himself and speaking quieter to me: "You don't want to lose your freedom, but you gave it up to come for me. Now, for that same reason, you're denying our marriage?"_

I gritted my teeth again. My frustration was starting to boil over. "You're forgetting that we never asked for this marriage! Our fathers set this up! I was fine being on my own!"

Enders nodded. For a split-second I could see pain on his face. He quickly covered it up with all the anger he felt. "That's fine, then," he said, his voice quieted, "because now you are."

He turned his back on me and walked away, leaving me standing there trying to nurse a completely shattered heart.

I watched as Enders, who'd walked back into my life, picked up wooden panels and talked with the other men. He never once smiled.

I looked down at the ground after a few minutes, walking toward some men building nearby.

Walking around, I felt dazed. I tried helping the men wherever I could. Many of them refused my help, saying that women – although in pants – shouldn't lift a finger in these efforts. I would have been offended if it weren't for the fact that I knew they were only being polite and chivalrous. It was a sweet gesture, so I accepted it.

Normally, I would have refuted their refusal, but I decided to take it easy.

I was helping a young man, about my age, lift a wooden panel when the sound of six horses filled my ears.

My eyes collided with the man I was working with and we both dropped the panel to investigate the sound.

I stepped to the side, looking around the corner of a wall we'd been able to get standing and over toward the direction of the sounds.

"What is that?" I asked, brushing hair out of my eyes before placing my hands on my hips.

"I have no idea," the man said, scanning the forest just beyond us.

I took a few more steps to the right, trying to see past the ongoing work on the new marketplace.

That's when six horsemen came into view, carrying a royal flag, and royal seals embroidered into their uniforms.

I narrowed my eyes as they came closer to the forming crowd.

"Get back a little bit." I said to the man next to me.

He listened without question, stepping backward a few steps.

I followed him, taking two steps backward as the horsemen came closer.

A trumpet rang out, almost sounding rushed, as the six horsemen approached the crowd. Five of the horsemen stayed behind as the front man dismounted his horse and stepped forward.

The man was older than me, enough to be my father. He had brown boots that went to just below his knee caps, his black hair cropped short, his torso covered in chainmail with the king's royal seal.

"Citizens of England," he greeted us, speaking up a bit so we all could hear him as he approached. "I'm looking for a Miss Harlow McBride."

I contemplated running or not answering, but my curiosity got the better side of me and I stepped forward, apart from the rest of the crowd. I glanced through all the faces before spotting Enders with some of the crowd on my left.

He made eye-contact with me, watching me carefully, giving me that look that read do not do anything stupid.

"Aye, that's me." I said, pulling my eyes away from Enders and raising an eyebrow as I looked upon the man. "And, you are?"

The man looked me up and down, his eyebrow raising. A small, arrogant smirk sat itself on his lips. "I am Kole Butler, King Wesley's Royal Adviser." The man said, taking off his right glove. "You have been summoned to appear at the royal court of King Wesley as soon as possible, under the unlawful act of outlawry and murder," the man said. "His Majesty is rather upset with your actions as of late."

I tilted my head, unsure if I should be angry or pleased. "I'm being charged with outlawry?"

The man nodded, again eying me up and down. "Doesn't seem like much a surprise." He rummaged through his things, pulling out a rolled-up parchment and holding it out to me. The man sighed, almost out of boredom. I saw a small spark of what looked like disappointment.

"And, who am I supposed to have murdered?" I stepped forward, looking at the man. It was true that I was indeed a murderer in the basic sense of the word and I absolutely knew that, but my real question was: whose murder am I being charged with?

I took the parchment from Kole Butler's hand and unrolled it. It was true, the scroll was for my presence at the court.

"Allyn Hall, the Sheriff of Nottingham."

I nodded, looking up at the adviser. I chuckled at him. Then, my smile dropped. I gripped the parchment on either side and ripped it clean down the middle. "I thought the protocol was detainment and trial. Shouldn't you be cuffing me and taking me to prison?"

"The king specified that you should have this protocol instead. Seems your special, or something or another. The king will have your head for that kind of behavior, though." The man warned, his eyebrow raised in amusement and curiosity, as he eyed the ripped parchment in my hand.

"Ah, like he had the head of his own daughter." I mocked. I knew it wasn't true now. I knew my mother was alive, but I also knew that most everyone in the country believed that she'd been killed. Still, I kept my eyes even on him, ripping the parchment in fourths, eighths, and so on, until there were only tiny bits left.

The adviser rolled his eyes. "Our king is impartial to all, even his own family."

"Your king is a coward!" I snapped, letting the ripped pieces of parchment fly in the wind.

"Is he any more cowardice than you?" The man challenged. His voice was irritated and annoyed. He slipped his left glove back onto his hand.

Anger billowed and stirred in my chest. I smiled sarcastically for a moment, before pulling a dagger from my waist.

I let it shift between my palms for a moment. Then, I reached out and grabbed the man before he could prepare for my assault. I turned him to face his comrades on their horses as I held the sharp end of the blade to his throat, the metal of it bobbing against his Adam's apple.

His eyes immediately switched from boredom to fright as he found himself unable to move, the cool metal of the small dagger digging into the skin of his neck.

"Is anyone more cowardice than a man who won't even let his servants see the sunlight? Is anyone more cowardice than a man who tortures and kills even his own kin? Is anyone able to rule with an iron fist if they're too busy hiding behind mansion walls?" My quiet voice was calm even to my own ears and I was surprised to hear that my tone never faltered.

The sound of horse hooves and withdrawn blades echoed through the land that was once a village. The horsemen came closer and surrounded me, the crowd moving back with gasps as they advanced on me and my hostage.

I didn't pay them any mind. If they were going to kill me, they'd have done it by now.

"Look around you." I said, lowering my voice only by one pitch. "This land was once where young children played and where good people slept. This was a land of peace and prosperity."

The man moved his head away, trying to look at his horsemen, afraid that any move they'd make would result in my impaling his neck with the blade I held steady against him.

I pressed the blade into his skin just a bit more, letting a small trail of blood trickle down his skin. He would have yelled out in pain, but I shushed him the second he looked like he might. "What you see now," I said, pressing just a little more, "is what your king has done. This is how much he values his people's lives."

I watched as a thicker line of blood appeared on the man's skin. "You tell your king that if he wants me, he can come find me himself."

"Harlow!" Enders' voice rang out in the chaotic silence.

Darting my eyes to look at him, I saw him unbuckle the holster for his sword and drop on the ground, holding out his hands so the soldiers knew he wasn't a threat. He stepped toward me, past the soldiers and spoke quietly to only me: "You're going to kill him if you don't let him go, and I know you don't want to do that."

I refused to turn my head and look at Enders because I knew the disappointment that awaited me, but I couldn't stop myself. I glanced at him and saw the stern, knowing look that spoke volumes. He understood my anger, but he knew I'd regret this fight if it came down to that.

"No one needs to die here." Enders told me, his voice soothing me out of belligerence and back to sense.

Instead of giving into the impulse to push the blade down into Kole's throat more, I forced my hand – with the blade firmly in my grip – away from his neck. I gave him one hard shove and watched as he scrambled to his feet, one hand flying to his neck and wiping at the small wound there.

"Tell your king that I await his army and his throne."

I shoved the dagger back into its holster on my waist and backed away from the man as he scuttled away from me.

The knights around me eased up just barely, waiting for any sign of another retaliation. The man scrambled to his feet, dashing to one of the horsemen who would take him to the horse he'd left just feet away. He pulled himself onto the back of a horse, behind one of the younger knights. "Go!"

"Aren't we going to arrest her?" One knight asked in the panic.

"The king has given us specific orders! Retreat back to the castle at once!" The adviser shouted. His voice trembled and his face went pale.

I didn't want to admit that I got a small amount of satisfaction from that.

Immediately, the knights took off in the direction they'd come from, barreling past the destruction that was once a village; a destruction their people had caused.

I narrowed my eyes as the men galloped away. I felt Enders' grim presence next to me. He felt different, more serious and ominous. I felt his disdain, his disappointment, his sorrow. I could not, however, feel his pain – it was as if he'd locked that away for only himself.

Nothing felt right anymore. Nothing was normal.

I heard my heart thundering in my ears as I scanned the crowd of my people. They deserved better than this life – more than just surviving and wondering when they'd be killed by Wesley's brutality.

There was fear in their eyes, worry about a coming war. All they saw was trouble.

I turned my eyes back to the cavalry that was galloping away from us. I understood my people's concern, but I didn't share it.

Because, I didn't see trouble. I saw blood.

End of Book One

### About the Author

Wow! You made it to the end! Here's a big thank you for downloading this book and embarking on this journey with me. Your time is your most valuable resource in this life, and I'm honored that you chose to spend it on me and this book. I hope the rest of the series captures your heart like these characters have captured mine.

The next few pages are the first chapter of Inflame, the second book to this series and the continuation of Harlow and Enders' story. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Sincerely,

S. E. Roberts

### An Excerpt from Inflame

### Chapter One

Enders

Fire.

It was everywhere.

The crackling of wood surrounded me as I ran across wet grass and dirt pathways. The smell suffocated me, as if I'd been holding my lungs under water.

It spread like a plague, absorbing everything in its way.

Houses were set ablaze, families panicking in the middle of the streets. Their screams were haunting. Their tears pricking my heart like a dagger piercing flesh.

There was a boy wandering in the streets, his tear-stained cheeks shining in the fire's light. His cries for his mother were a painful reminder of all that had gone wrong. The boy rushed down alleyways and open pathways. No one stopped to help him, and I would have, if I hadn't already had my heart set on something else.

I felt almost inhuman for not stopping, for continuing to push down the pathway. I felt like I lost a piece of who I was when I turned my eyes away from him and rounded a corner.

Everyone had lost something, right?

I couldn't tell if that justified my actions or if it made things worse. If these times were so brutal, shouldn't I have done something to ease his pain?

The destruction wreaked on this village was brutal. It was the town I'd grown up in, the people I'd known my entire life, and the place I had left my mother when I set out for Sherwood.

That boy I'd seen with the tear-stained cheeks? His name was David Tanner and he was only eight-years-old. I'd watched him when his father had to work in the fields somedays. I had been young, but David was only a tot and his mother had died giving birth to him. I'd taken him to the fields and tried to teach him to walk. I had been there was he uttered his first word. I had watched him learn to kick a ball...

What am I doing?

I turned my feet around another corner. Then, I abruptly stopped and backpedaled.

I sprinted back the direction I'd come and searched through the pathways until I saw him, standing there while two soldiers came toward him, malicious smiles on their faces as they peered down at his small frame.

A growl, heavy and angry came from my throat as I pushed my legs harder. I hadn't a clue what they were going to do with him, but I sure as hell didn't want to find out.

One of the knights laid a hand on the boy's shoulder, calmly at first before violently jerking him closer and heaving him up onto his broad, armor-clad shoulder.

Every muscle in my jaw clenched. My fingers drew backward, pulling an arrow from the quiver strapped to my back, David's screams echoing in my head like a painful requiem. I crouched in the shadows of a tall building on my left that hadn't been set ablaze yet and strung the arrow onto the bow, aligning the arrowhead and taking quick aim before I let the wood fly and drive right into the empty-handed soldier. His mouth opened in shock before he dropped to the ground and stopped moving.

I had an arrow aligned on my bow again before his body hit the grass.

The man who held David - who thrashed and kicked like he was on fire - turned around, hand diving for his sword and his eyes fervently searching the darkness I hid in.

He wouldn't be able to see me, not after he'd been staring into the fire light ahead of him for over two minutes. His eyes would need to be accustomed to the darkness again, and I'd make damn sure he was dead before that would happen.

I let the bowstring and arrow loose from my grip and watched it thunk into his thigh, his whole body dropping as he roared a scream.

David dropped from the knight's hold plummeting into the grass and sprawling there, trying to get his breath.

I was standing and running, thoughts focused on one thing only: kill.

I wasn't a murderer. I didn't like taking lives. But, there was something in this man's eyes when he looked at little David Tanner - something evil - and I'd rather die than let something evil happen to David.

I slowed to a walk when I approached the man, sitting in the grass, fingers desperately trying to stop the hemorrhaging at his thigh.

When his eyes finally shot up, realizing I was there and I'd been the one who shot him, his slick, red fingers groped for the sword on his belt.

Then, they fell limp when I unsheathed my sword and plunged it deep into his chest.

I am not the monster here.

At least, that's what I told myself.

Turning to the side, I saw David, scooting backward and away from me on the grass, pushing himself closer to the shadows of the only unburned house in the square. His eyes sat wide on his face, a mixture of wonder and fear.

Sheathing my sword, I stepped closer to him, holding my hands up at him in surrender. "I'm not going to hurt you, David."

His eyes stayed wide as he sat speechless. He was completely unconvinced.

I couldn't blame him. I'd probably be afraid, too.

Lifting my hands to the hood that sat at my head, I slid it back and let it fall on the nape of my neck, showing him my face.

"Eden!" David screamed, his voice a piercing squeal to my ears. He scrambled to his feet, barreling toward me, his arms engulfing my waist when he collided into me.

"Come on." I said, sliding my hands under his arms and lifting him up to my chest. I held him tightly to my chest as I jogged back into the direction I'd been going before I saw him: toward home.

*~*~*

"What happened here?" I asked, putting David down as we squatted in a shadow a few streets away from the home I'd grown up in.

David shrugged. "I don't know. Papa told me to hide, so I was in the chest with Mama's clothes, and I heard loud noises. I heard them fighting. He wasn't moving when I came out..."

I swallowed down a lump of sorrow. He's dead, then, I thought. "Do you know how to use a knife?"

David nodded. "I think so."

I nodded, slipping a knife from my boot and handing it to him with the handle held out to him. "If you need to use it, aim for the groin."

There were some shouts coming from around the corner.

I turned, peeking over the corner of the building.

Soldiers stood in a congregation of madness, setting ablaze a bare home.

I narrowed my eyes at the men for a moment before turning back to David. "Can you run or do I need to carry you?"

"I can run." David said, gripping the knife in his hand.

"Okay," I whispered, leaning closer to him and letting my gaze burn into him. I wanted to make sure he heard me, that he was listening to me. "You stay next to me. Don't leave my side for a second. And, if they get to you, you fight. Do you understand? Do not let them take you."

David swallowed and nodded.

He was nervous, scared.

Good, I thought, he should be scared. That fear is what will keep him alive.

I scooted toward the corner of the home whose shadow we were hiding in again and let my eyes wander over the town, it's secrets flickering in the fire's light. Just ahead of me, I caught sight of an alleyway. Childhood memories played back in my mind; I knew this alleyway. It would take me right where I needed to go.

"Follow me." I said, giving the soldiers one last glance before I bolted for the other end of the street, David in tow. We met the shadows that would keep us hidden and waited for sound, but there was nothing.

The men hadn't seen us.

I wondered if anyone were in the home that home that the soldiers were setting on fire. I wondered if I could save them. But, then I wondered if that would mean losing David, and I refused to let that happen.

I had left him behind when I went to Sherwood two years ago, but I knew he had is father and the women of the village to care for him. But now?

Things were different, now.

_I_ was different.

Now, I knew I couldn't save everyone, and if I had to choose, then I chose David.

I sprinted down the pathway, keeping to the shadows, pulling my hood up over my head and casting darkness over my face. The green fabric rubbed against the stubble on my chin, a scratchy sound rhythmically playing back in my ears. I turned my head to the side and saw David running behind me, dagger in his tiny fist.

I didn't stop running, but I slowed for David to keep up with me. I could have gone faster, but I wouldn't dare leave David that far behind me.

Turning my head forward, I saw the building I'd been looking for and my legs faltered under me.

Brown wood had turned black with fire, red flames licking toward the sky.

It was the mixture of black and brown colors with red hot fire that made me rush forward. My lips parted, and my heart fell into my stomach. Panic rose in my chest and spread to my fingertips, all consuming – like the fire I set my eyes on.

I was only a few yards from the home, just before the front porch, but my last few steps were stopped by the silhouette of a royal soldier, dirty-faced, his lips bloodied and disgusting. Anger resided over his features as he eyed over me. Malice dripped from the man like sap from a tree. The soldier's eyes twinkled even though mine could tell the man was near death.

"Outlaw," the man sneered, stumbling and struggling to keep on his feet, his sword hanging limply in his bloodied hand.

I held my hand out, turning my head to the side to make sure David was still there.

He was, to my relief, right there behind me, staring terrified at the knight before us.

Using my arm, I pushed him behind me, hiding him from the soldier's sight.

I wondered how many villagers this soldier had killed, and how many of those people I knew? I furrowed my brow, reaching behind my back and grabbing an arrow from my quiver and lifting my bow. I took aim at the soldier's heart.

The man smiled, his eyes squinting as if he couldn't decide if I were even there. "The only thing you outlaws know how to do is murder."

The man swayed, his legs almost collapsing under him.

I knew what it looked like when a man was near death; I knew the soldier had a fatal wound and he was losing blood, fast. My suspicions were confirmed when I saw a sharp object – a blade – protruding from the man's abdomen.

It glistened red, stained with blood.

I was sure that the man's face was pale, even though the darkness hid his features well.

Silently, I pulled back the string and let the arrow fly. I had never been one for dramatics, seeing it more fitting to end the soldier's life now rather than make him wait for the end painfully.

The soldier let out a disgusting, throaty yell before he dropped to his knees and twitched with violent jerks. It only lasted a moment before his body lay lifeless in the grass.

Empty.

I turned my attention to the building before me, where I'd been desperately trying to arrive.

It was in flames, burnt wood laying scattered around the home, it's porch and overhanging roof becoming fragile under its own weight. The front door sat open wide, small specks of embers spitting out as a plume of smoke and flame explored the clean air outside – as if reaching for the night sky.

My eyes widened and my lips parted enough to take in a sharp breath.

Home.

That's what this had been my whole life, and now it was burning to the ground.

When my mind cleared, I turned back, grabbing David's arm and rushing up the weak porch steps. I stopped, let go of David's arm and dug into my pocket for a rag, handing it to David. "Hold this over your mouth and stand inside the doorway!"

Covering my mouth with the fabric of my sleeve, I rushed into the building.

I couldn't make out much of the room, the smoke tickling my eyes, persuading them to close. My heart ached at the sight before me, but I pushed it aside and searched fervently throughout the main room.

" _Oh, God!"_

I whipped my head in the direction of the voice. It was barely audible over the crackling fire and collapsing wood.

I ran, my mouth covered, in the direction of the voice. I barged through a huge archway leading to what had been a bedroom.

The support beams had fallen from the ceiling and landed dangerously on the bed below. It blocked my vision from the person who had spoken, but I saw a second figure standing above the bed, pulling on the burnt wood that pinned against the bed. "Don't worry! I'll get you out of here!"

I felt myself go completely still. I knew that voice, too. I knew it too well to ever forget it.

I shook off the feeling and grabbed the side of the beam, using all my strength to push myself up and over the wood and land on the other side, next to a woman dressed in green and brown outlaw attire.

The woman turned her head toward me in surprise, staring at me in awe.

I threw down my bow and gripped the support beam. "What are you doing here?!" My voice came out more like a growl than a string of English.

The woman broke out of her daze and braced her fingers on the wood, pulling with all the force she could muster. "People were being attacked! I had to do something!" She shouted over the crackling fire.

I shivered when the voice reached my ears. It was a voice I'd heard one hundred times: a voice that had lied to me, fought with me, and comforted me.

"This is a dangerous place to be, Harlow!" I yelled at her, still lifting the beam, struggling as embers glided from the ceiling to my broad shoulders.

"I know that!" She grunted.

"Enders?!" A woman peeked her head out from under the bed. Her gray-streaked hair was frazzled, and her cheeks stained with burnt ash. The disbelief was written all over her face, panic exuding from her very soul.

"I'm here, mum!" I struggled, raising the beam higher with sheer power of will. "Crawl out, now!"

I felt Harlow's eyes on me, but there was too much going on to address me. I supposed that I didn't mind it so much anyway...

My mother dashed out from under the bed, making it to safety just behind Harlow and me.

I had waited for Harlow to release her grip on the beam before I let mine falter as well.

The beam fell to the ground and thudded against the bed.

I grabbed my bow and leapt back over the beam, extending my hand to my mother.

She shot out her hand and latched onto my arm, pulling herself over the wood. Harlow followed shortly afterward, not needing nor wanting my help.

I took my mother's hand, pushing her in front of me while we made for the door as quickly as we could. I threw two glances backward to make sure Harlow was following close behind.

A loud cracking echoed throughout the building, and Harlow startled, moving closer into my back. Her hand landed gently on the middle of my spine. I growled at the shiver that drew up the column of my back, repressing the urge to react to it other than that.

A huge bang sounded, a thunderous vibration echoing behind us as another support beam fell and crashed to the floor.

I reached the door first, reaching out and grabbing David's arm, pulling him and my mother through the door. I turned my head and watched expectantly as Harlow moved through after me.

A reluctant wave of relief crashed over me when I saw them all gasping in the clean air, but otherwise unharmed. I stared at them for a while, making sure my initial assessment of their health wasn't in error.

Finally, my eyes landed on the burning home before us – the home I'd grown up in. I felt my heart ache before I turned away from the building and looked at everyone else. Walking toward David, I pulled him into me at his shoulders, giving him a squeeze.

Homes were still burning to the ground, flames sparkling into the distance. Other than the crackling of the fire, all was silent.

I arched an eyebrow as I surveyed the area. It was dead. Eerie.

That wasn't a good sign.

I only took one step forward before I heard the noise in the distance. It was getting closer with every moment, a thumping against grass that I couldn't ignore.

"Do you hear that?" Harlow asked, looking over to me for reassurance.

I nodded, still straining to hear, still unsure of the sounds.

It took no more than five seconds for a group of royal knights to come into sight, torches lit, horses galloping, faces angry as they headed straight for us.

I slid my sword from its holster on my waist and pulled David toward my mother, taking her palm and placing the hilt of the sword in her hand.

"No," she said, staring at me like she'd slap me if I didn't obey her word. "I don't know how to use this, anyway. Give me a knife. That, I can use."

I sheathed my sword and slid a knife from a strap on my thigh, handing the jagged-edged weapon to my mother. "Aim for the throat."

"I thought it was the groin." David piped up.

"That's because you're short." I said, my eyes darting to him quickly.

"I've been doing this since before you were born, Eden." My mother said, an apprehensive and excited glint in her eye as she stared at the approaching horsemen. Turning to me, she said, "take care of her," my mother nodded toward Harlow, "and David."

I turned to find Harlow standing there, staring at the men with two blades in each of her fists. I wished she'd learn to use a sword. Then I wouldn't have to worry about her getting herself killed so much.

Two outlaws, an older woman with a knife, and an eight-year-old boy with a small dagger against a group of trained royal knights?

We're practically defenseless.

