My fingers closed on empty air. Where was it? I groped again, stretching farther, but still found nothing. My balance shifted. The sill seemed to tilt beneath my boots, and suddenly there was no time to recover. I toppled straight through the open window and in a sickening instant, I found myself falling.
My hands grabbed wildly at the darkness. My right fingers brushed stiff rope, and I clamped down with everything I had. The rope snapped tight through my palm, but my weight was too much for one hand to stop. I slid downward fast, gripping until pain shot through my hand and up my arm. I flailed with my other hand, desperate to catch hold before I lost too much speed.
At last, my left hand found the rope and my body jerked to a stop so violently that my shoulders screamed in protest. I hung there, suspended in the darkness against the tower wall, breathing hard and trying not to let go. My hands burned. My arms shook. Above me, the banging continued, followed by a tremendous crash as the guard finally broke into Prince John’s rooms.
A furious shout rang out then the window banged open overhead. “There he is,” a voice cried. “Give me your knife.”
Blast.
They were going to cut my line.
I arched my back and swung my legs, forcing the rope to sway. I had to reach the outer wall. There was a trellis of roses on the other side, and if I could just land on top of the wall, I’d be able to climb down and escape before the guards reached me. If I could just reach it…
It was, quite possibly, one of the worst ideas of my life.
I swung forward, trying to build up enough momentum that I could cross the distance. The rope stretched out toward the wall, but not far enough. Above me, men shouted. The rope jerked as someone grabbed it near the window, and I prepared to let go, but I timed it a second too late.
The guard cut the rope.
My trajectory shifted and instead of landing cleanly on top of the stone wall, my shins struck the hard edge. Pain exploded up my legs, and I collapsed across the wall with a strangled gasp. An arrow whipped past me and I rolled at once across the stone and dropped off the other side to avoid any others that might follow.
My hand caught the rose trellis and for the briefest moment, I thought I’d saved myself. Then my fingers slipped and I fell again. But this time, I didn’t fall cleanly. The thorns and rusted iron tore at my side as I scraped down the trellis, my entire side and abdomen being shredded by thousands of thorns and the rusted iron claws that formed the trellis. My thin tunic was no protection at all and ripped wide open. I would have screamed, but I couldn’t find the air to do so. My belt got sliced and fell off, and all the papers I had tucked into the belt came loose.
I hit the ground hard enough to knock all the air from my body. I gasped, helpless as a fish out of water, for a full minute. I couldn’t move and all I could do was watch, stunned, as the precious documents drifted down around me like pale leaves. Several fell into the slow-moving, foul contents of the moat and were lost at once.
No.
No, no, no.
Finally, I managed to inhale tiny amounts of air at a time, then rolled to my side. My eyes streamed from the pain, but I struggled to my feet and gathered up every sheet of parchment I could see. Shouting rose from the castle behind me. I didn’t havetime to check how badly I was hurt. I didn’t have time to think about anything other than my escape.
I bolted the servants’ door from the outside, then staggered across the makeshift footbridge. No swimming in that muck for this girl today. Once I reached the other side, I heaved the planks off the castle’s bank so no one would be able to follow me without lowering the drawbridge or swimming across the moat. Then I turned toward the northern wood. The forest meant safety. James was waiting there.
I just had to reach him.
My entire body ached. With each step, pain throbbed through my shins, and a sharper agony burned across my side. I didn’t want to investigate the extent of the injury. I could move for now, and that was enough.
I would be fine.
I was always fine.
Fixing cuts and scrapes was what healers were for, wasn’t it? Once I got back to camp, I would drink something, sit down for a bit, and let someone fuss over me. Then I would be all right.One step at a time, I told myself.Just one step at a time.
But the steps grew harder.
Despite the adrenaline pumping through me, I became light-headed and dizzy. The heat of the summer night pressed against my skin, and it became increasingly difficult to draw a full breath. Nausea rolled through me and darkness crept in at the edges of my vision, and I blinked hard, trying to clear it.
One step at a time.
The parchment clutched in my hands might hold the information that would change the outcome of our mission. It potentially could alter our country’s future. Everyone was counting on me—Father, James, the Merry Men, even King Richard.
I kept moving, but the forest wasn’t growing any closer. If anything, it swayed and shifted in the distance, the line of trees blurring until I couldn’t tell whether I was walking straight or drifting sideways. I fought with every bit of strength I had to place one foot in front of the other. Pain became somehow distant and everywhere all at once, impossible to escape.
Step again, I coached myself.And now one more.
The sounds around me faded. I could no longer hear the soldiers shouting in the castle or the night creatures calling from the woods. Only a rushing filled my ears, loud and endless. All I wanted to do was sink to the ground and sleep.
What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I get hold of myself? I had to reach the rendezvous point. I shuffled all the papers into my left hand and slapped my own face sharply with my right. The sting helped for a moment, but only a moment.