I went back from the window and asked Tuck where John were. John came up from around the bar, glaring at the door, where Rob were just beyond. “What?” John asked.
“Find out what Gisbourne wants,” I said. “And find out when the prince comes.”
Chapter Six
Three days later, I hadn’t much moved from the bed Tuck had given me. I’d looked once in a glass, and my face were purple by half. My belly were yellow and black, and my hand had set to aching fierce. From what the girls were saying, Rob were outside most of the time, which were like to mean he ain’t slept. Weren’t nothing good coming from that.
It were dusk when Much came to me. I were downstairs, hanging back from the windows to watch Rob without him seeing me. He were just sitting now, waiting. Watching.
Much looked bigger to me, like his bones were growing, and it made me remember how young he were still. He were only half formed, half grown. A few years never seemed like much between us, but he still had changing to do. “John told me,” he said. “What you’re thinking of doing. And I tried to find out what Gisbourne wants—we both did—but we couldn’t. And Rob’s suspicious.”
“You can’t tell him,” I said. “Even after I go, keep it as long as you can.”
He nodded. “So you’re going.”
“Maybe. How long till the prince comes?”
“He’ll be here tomorrow. They’re releasing the men at the same time so a good crowd will greet the prince.”
My eyes shut. Weren’t there no luck for me in this world? “I can’t go to him with no way to defend myself, Much. What am I supposed to do with a broke hand?”
Much frowned. He had such a serious face, so oft full of thoughts, but this were strange on him, like there were something he didn’t understand—which happened rare enough. He’d spent most of the winter tearing through the library of monks’ books that I could bare pick up, never mind understand. “What does your hand have to do with defending yourself?”
“Now you’re just making fun,” I told him, standing and drawing closer to the windows as Rob began to pace.
“No, I’m not,” he said. I looked at him and he kept on frowning. “I think you’re confused.”
“My hand’s broke, Much,” I snapped, looking away.
“And you think that’s how you fight,” he said, like light just dawned in his head. “Christ, you think your knives make you what you are?” He came closer and put his hand on my shoulder, but I didn’t turn to him. “You remember when you bought me the kattari?” he asked.
I shrugged under his hand.
“Why’d you do that?”
“Because you were whining and moping all about and complaining that you couldn’t fight.”
“So what did the kattari change?”
“Nothing,” I snapped. “I just gave you a weapon that weren’t hard for you to carry.”
“It changed something. I couldn’t fight without it.”
I shoved his hand off, glaring at him. “Of course you could! You’ve fought every damn day of your life and the person who doesn’t look at your stump of an arm and know it means you’re a better, stronger, harder fighter than someone with two hands is a damn fool.” He started to smile and I pushed him. “And if you’re trying to say I don’t need my knives to fight, it’s different!”
“How?”
My chest felt like it caved in. “Because he will hurt me. Badly. And there won’t be no band. And no Rob. And if he wants to make me every bit the scared, helpless girl, it won’t be hard.” My voice were gone, and the words were bare solid, like dust in the air.
Much stepped forward, looking into my eyes and I looked down. “Scar,” he said soft. “Scar,” he repeated, until I looked at him. “You learned to use your hands to fight for you. And you learned to trust the band to be at your back. You may have even learned to let Rob save you. But you don’t need a damn one of those things. Your power, your great gift, is that you never give up. When something fails you make a new plan, and another, and another. You never accept defeat. You never give up.”
“He’ll kill me.”
“He wants something from you, and I don’t think it’s to kill you.”
“What if it is?”
The corner of his mouth twitched up, and I frowned hard before it turned into a full smile. “Then don’t make it easy.”
I ducked my head.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he told me.
I stood. My body hurt everywhere, and I hated that Gisbourne would see the proof of this shameful thing between me and Rob. I hated that I were going. I hated that I were going alone, for the first time in years without the band behind me. Without Rob.
“Find some way to distract Rob.”
“Scar—” Much said, but he didn’t finish the breath.
“Keep him whole, Much. Find something in those books of yours to make him better. Please.”
Much caught my good arm and squeezed awful hard. “Don’t die, Scar. He doesn’t come back from this if you die.”
That bit, at least, made me smile. “Neither do I. Go on. Make it good so he don’t suspect.”
Much nodded and let go of me. I hoped it wouldn’t be forever.