A groan cut through the air.
Dale stirred on the forest floor, rolling onto his side and grimacing. I crouched beside him and laid a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Good to have you back among the living. I’m sorry about your arm.”
He squinted up at me. “You didn’t shoot me. Why are you apologizing?”
I grinned. “I pulled the arrow out of your arm then used it to shoot the sheriff.”
Dale’s eyes widened as he took in the clearing—and the still bodies lying nearby. “Well,” he said slowly, “a sore arm seems a fair trade. Well done.”
Lincoln dropped down beside him, already filling him in, while I stood and addressed the rest of the group. “We don’t have much time. We have to make a decision now.”
Father turned back to Baron. “We need your answer. Our plan will be dangerous, but itisa plan. You haven’t offered an alternative. If you have even a shred of doubt, it will ruin everything. I need to know—now.”
Baron met his gaze without blinking. “I’ll do it.” The words were steady and certain.
Father studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “Very well. Here’s how it will go.”
He moved quickly, then snapped into command and spoke in a low, rushed voice. “Will Stutely, Alan, and I head for Vienna to free King Richard. On foot, it’ll take at least two weeks unless we steal horses along the way. You won’t hear from us often. Little John stays in Sherwood to recover and keep things running at camp. Will Scarlet, you and Dale get yourselves recruited into Philip’s army and start feeding us information.” He eyed Dale’s arm. “Sorry about your arm, Dale, but we need you and you’ll heal faster than John.”
Nods rippled through the group.
“Baron will go back to take Blackwell’s place and lead his platoon,” Father continued. “Laurel will pose as a servant at Prince John’s castle and gather information.” He stopped to fix Baron with a lethal stare. “Betray us, and Iwillkill you, no matter what my daughter’s feelings are. It isn’t just our lives at stake; this is for all of England.”
I looked at Baron. He hadn’t flinched; death threats clearly held little novelty for him.
“That leaves Lincoln and James as messengers,” Father went on. “James, you’re responsible for Laurel and Baron. Check in on them regularly and you two, send in regular reports. Lincoln, you handle Dale and Will Scarlet. Reports to Little John oncea week. Anyone injured or compromised returns to Sherwood immediately. Understood?”
Heads nodded.
Father clapped his hands together, a fierce grin breaking through at last. “Good. Now for the fun part.”
BARON
How on earth was this supposed to be fun?
I stood in the clearing beside my father’s corpse, sword heavy in my grip, the scent of iron thick in the air. Blood soaked the grass in dark, sticky patches and there was a feeling of deep unease hovering in the air. This place had become a stage, and right now, every detail mattered.
Several members of the Merry Men, including Laurel, lay scattered across the ground, perfectly still. They had been arranged to look as though I’d cut them down in a blind, vengeful fury after Laurel murdered the Sheriff of Nottingham. The lie was simple in theory. Two surviving members of my former platoon had been unconscious when it happened; they would know no different… But I still needed to convince them.
My only real fear was what they might do to the bodies of those feigning death. I couldn’t let them deal any retaliatory kicks or let them examine them too closely.
We’d smeared blood across Laurel’s clothes, across Will Scarlet’s chest, and along Lincoln’s neck. Dale and Little John had already bled enough for the story to sell itself. I forced myself to look at them. Lincoln’s limbs were twisted at unnaturalangles, his body limp. It was plenty convincing. Will Scarlet lay on his side, eyes closed, mouth slack, blood streaking his temple.
Laurel was face down in the dirt, red hair tangled and darkened with blood, the earth beneath her soaked nearly black. I hated how real it looked. Something sharp and unwelcome twisted inside me, and I shoved the feeling down where it belonged. If I faltered now, even for a second, this all unraveled. If being calloused and unfeeling was what would protect Laurel, that is what I would do.
Little John and Will Scarlet looked dead enough, but Dale, the former minstrel, was a masterpiece.
He lay spread-eagled on his back, mouth open, eyes wide and glassy, looking utterly empty of life. I crouched beside him, studying his face. He didn’t betray a single flinch or even a blink. I waved a hand inches from his eyes.
Nothing.
“I’m not sure whether to be impressed or disturbed,” I whispered to him before rising and drawing a steadying breath before turning to the two of my former platoon members who still lived—Sebastian and Dominic.
I knew them both well enough. Sebastian had joined the ranks about a year before. He had a sharp mind, was quick with a blade, and always followed my orders without complaint. I liked him well enough; he made a good, obedient soldier. The other was Dominic, the large, brutish thug who had been sent to kidnap Laurel in the first place. He had an extensive criminal history and had spent a good deal of his adult life in and out of prison. He was the kind of man drawn to power for all the wrong reasons, and I heartily disliked him.
I grabbed Sebastian’s shoulder and shook him. “Wake up, soldier.”
He groaned, stirred, and fell still again.