John looked at me, but I just shoved into my boots and grabbed up an armful of Rob’s things before going outside.
Rob were striding down the cloisters, and I ran to catch up with him.
I threw his boots down at his bare feet. “Don’t run away from me,” I snapped.
“Don’t?” he growled. He bent over and shoved one boot vengeful on his foot. “I could have killed you, Scar!” he yelled. He put the other boot on and stayed bent over, crouching down low. “I could have killed you,” he said again.
I sat on the snow-dusted stone, stretching my legs out and leaning against one of the stone pillars of the archway. “You didn’t,” I said, handing him a cloak. He stared at it. “Put it on. Anger may feel warm but it ain’t going to keep you from falling sick again.”
Rob’s jaw rolled with muscle. “I didn’t fall sick,” he snarled, swinging the cloak round his shoulders and sitting on the ground across from me. “I was laid on a board with spikes on it, and I felt it as each one pushed through my skin. And those gaping holes didn’t quite heal right, did they?”
My knuckles were rubbing over my cheek before I knew what I were about. He weren’t the only one that Gisbourne and the sheriff had left marks on. The new scar I’d gotten for marrying Gisbourne to save Rob’s life were harder than the last, like something were stuck deep inside it. It were longer too. “They never do.”
He let a moment pass. “I don’t want you out here.”
“Yes, you do.”
“You need sleep.”
I just huffed at that.
“You’ll freeze,” he said.
“I like the cold,” I said, tucking my cloak tighter around me anyway. He opened his mouth to try and shake me off again, so I asked the one thing I knew would hush him. “What do you dream of, Rob?”
He glared at me, but his eyes fluttered shut and he shook his head.
I rested my leg against his. He breathed a deep sigh, but his leg eased into mine.
We didn’t talk more. We stayed quiet and wakeful in the cloisters till we were half-froze, until the sun came up and the monks walked their silent ways and I wondered if God were making Rob pay for his sins or just my own.
Chapter Two
John kicked my boot, and I jerked. It weren’t like I’d been sleeping, just tucked inside a half-frozen stillness that had settled down on my skin. Rob kicked him back for it, and John stepped free. “You really want to take me on, Rob?” he asked. John were smiling, but he were standing between me and Rob again.
“Not at the moment,” Rob allowed, standing and pulling me up, going round John to do it. He held me a moment, his hands on my arms, his face glowing heat onto mine.
John looked over his shoulder at us.
“Don’t want to be late,” Much said.
Rob let me go and I glared at Much. It weren’t like me and Rob had more than our share of soft moments.
“What?” Much asked me, but I shook my head. The boy had less sense than a wooden post sometimes.
Rob led the way, and I followed behind him, with Much behind me and John at the flank. The winter forest were different for us; the snow covered the ground and made everything in the forest a lie, a trick. Holes were covered over, once-strong branches were brittle and weak. Everything looked beautiful and clear, like the world were at peace, but what it really meant was not a thing could live upon its frightful cold.
Not even me, and I were a creature meant for no warmth, no sun, no light. The winter forest wouldn’t hide me in its branches, weren’t strong enough for me to run along the trees, and it made me stand out against its snow.
My forest had turned on me.
The closer we got to Edwinstowe, the more the thing turned into a dance. In the winter forest, you could see farther than were fair good for a thief or her friends, so each step forward were a step to the side, stepping close to a tree to blend dark clothes to dark wood.
On the edge of Edwinstowe, the others stayed against the trees while I moved forward. I were still the best at this part, moving silent and unseen through a place. I taught the others what I could, but there weren’t no teaching the shadows to welcome you in.
I stole through the rough rows of houses to the well in the center of town. I waited on the side of the nearest house, listening.
Their heavy footfalls were loud enough to announce them from far off. The knights strode through the town, the lane empty but for them. The villagers had learned to stay well below their notice; the knights were wont to take whatever they pleased.
I heard a door open in the quiet, and the footfalls stopped. “Sirs,” said a breathlike voice, so oversoft I couldn’t tell who spoke.
“Miss,” the two returned.
“Why, I was just headed to the well for some water,” the voice purred out.