“It wasyou!You were the one?—”
“Chained to your daughter when you came to rescue her, yes,” Baron cut him off crisply. “We’ll catch up later. We have to get out. Now.”
The door creaked open and Father hobbled out of his cell, eyeing Baron suspiciously. I pulled Father’s arm around my shoulder to support him to the next cell.
As Baron worked his way down the row of cells, unlocking each door with quick, silent efficiency, I leaned closer to Father. “Who died?” I whispered, bracing myself.
His face tightened. “Jerome,” he murmured. “And Much the Miller’s Son.”
The words struck like physical blows. For a heartbeat, the hallway tilted. Jerome, steady, dependable Jerome, who’d taught me how to fletch my first arrow. And Much, who always tried to make us laugh, even in the bleakest moments.
A sharp ache burst behind my ribs. I swallowed hard, forcing the sound back down my throat. There was no air to breathe, no space to grieve. I nodded, blinking fast until the torches steadied again. My heart felt raw, like it had been cut wide open, but we had no time for mourning, not while lives still needed saving.
The rest of the men seemed to have fared slightly better than Father. They could at least walk normally, but all had lost a significant amount of weight and had a variety of injuries. I exchanged worried glances with Baron. How could we escape with them all this badly weakened?
“Follow me,” Baron instructed.
He marched off through the empty corridors, checking furtively around each corner before striding on. The men struggled to keep up his aggressive pace, and I helped Father limp along the best I could. We ascended two stories, until we were just one level below the main floor. Baron held up a closed fist, signaling us to halt. Then he gestured for us to wait while he went on. He strode into the hall beyond, out of our sight.
“Can we trust him?” whispered Father.
“Shhh. Yes, we can,” I answered, nerves jangling.
“We have to trust him,” murmured Little John. “We don’t have any other choice.”
We heard Baron’s voice ring out, powerful and commanding. “Who goes there?”
A nasally voice replied. “Who goesthere?”
“I’m Baron Blackwellson, a senior officer in Prince John’s first battalion of soldiers, the son of the Sheriff of Nottingham!” Baron said authoritatively. I heard several of the men behind me inhale sharply and I flapped my hands at them to stay silent.
“Baron Blackwellson?” the nasally voice repeated. “My, my, I didn’t know you were expected. Is your father also?—”
The rest of his question was cut off as we heard a heavythump. Baron poked his head around the corner. “All clear.”
As Father passed him, he narrowed his eyes. “You and I are going to have a chat later.”
“I’m sure we will,” Baron said hastily, still pressing us on urgently. He nimbly ran to the front of our column and continued to lead the procession. Past the now-unconscious guard slumped on the floor, up another flight of stairs, then through the main dining hall. We were close to the main gate now. But this would be the most dangerous part of all.
I looked at the exhausted, famished men we had in tow and wanted to kick myself. Baron and I hadn’t thought about thepoor state Father and the others would be in when we had made our plans. We’d assumed that we would be able to rush out, fighting all the way. But now, even Little John seemed devoid of his usual strength. How had we made such a huge oversight?
I helped Father sit and approached Baron. “We need a diversion,” I said quietly.
Baron nodded. “I suppose I could take on the left wing while you lead?—”
But I shook my head. “No, it has to be me. The men need you to get them out safely.” Baron looked ready to protest, but I forestalled him. “Baron, I physically cannot support someone like Little John. I couldn’t carry any of them if they needed it. But you can.”
“What is your plan?” he asked.
A smile lit up my face. “Probably something heroic and stupid. You’ve been a bad influence on me.”
Baron exhaled sharply, worry tightening his features. “Laurel…”
“I’ll be fine,” I whispered, touching his arm. “I know what I’m doing.”
He held my gaze for a long second, fighting the instinct to argue. Finally, he nodded. “Then come back to me. Don’t take any unnecessary risks.”
A laugh caught in my throat. “On that, I make no promises.”
