I refused to speak again.
The sheriff stood waiting just inside his tent when we returned to camp, arms folded over his broad belly. His smug, self-righteous expression made me want to slap him. “Well done, Baron,” he said, nodding at the tracker at my side, then he turned his attention to me. “Young lady, what have you to say for yourself?”
I let the tears come on cue, shoulders shaking. “I am so frightened!” I sobbed in an exaggerated, trembling voice. “I miss my family. I just want to go home!”
The tracker dropped his voice. “Don’t fall for it. I found sophor berries in the stew the guards ate last night and she knew exactly where to go once I bound her. She walked straight back here.”
Curse my sense of direction. I should have meandered incompetently through the woods like a confused, helpless girl.
The sheriff, however, waved the tracker’s warning away with a belittling chuckle. “Honestly, Baron, Goric and Flavius have never been the brightest. They likely picked the berries by accident and ate them, not knowing what they were. And you were with the girl today, so naturally she would follow your lead. She was merely following you.”
His gaze sharpened as he inspected me. “That little performance you gave last night was admirable,” he said, circling me. “However, there is no Gerald or Pippi employed at the inn. I was right; youareRobin Hood’s daughter.”
I swallowed and watched him, waiting to see how dangerous he thought I was. Baron’s jaw tightened. He tried again, his tone edged with frustration. “I’m telling you, she’s cleverer than you think. Double her guard or she will be gone before this time tomorrow.”
The sheriff clicked his tongue in dismissal. “She’ll be guarded. I just need someone actually competent to watch her. Dorian!”
A figure snapped to attention at the tent entrance and stepped forward smartly. The sheriff took the rope from Baron’s hand and tossed it to Dorian. “Don’t let her escape, and watch what you eat around her or she might try to dump sophor berries into it. Keep her secured until her father arrives. I have waited years to best Robin Hood, and I won’t let some girl ruin it for me. A few more days and I’ll have him at last.”
Dorian glanced down at me with outright contempt. “Do we have more king’s wort?” he asked, lip curling. “It would be less trouble.”
“No,” the sheriff snapped in a tone that ended the discussion. “We don’t. Now go.”
Dorian jerked hard on the rope, and my arms were yanked painfully so I had to stagger to keep my balance. I stumbled sideways, fighting to maintain my composure.Keep it up, Dorian, I thought darkly.You’re next on my list.
CHAPTER 7
Most regretfully, the sheriff had been right. Dorian was much more observant than my first three guards. He tracked my movements with an unblinking intensity that would have made anyone uncomfortable. He was a man somewhere past his prime, though no weaker for it. Gray speckled his dark hair and beard, shadowing a pointed, swarthy face. His medium frame was wiry and hardened, with the kind of muscle that had been earned through years of use.
But it was his eyes that unsettled me the most. They were cold, black, and empty of any compassion or feeling. This was a man who had misplaced his humanity long ago and never once missed it.
He made a small game of cruelty throughout the day. Without warning, he would give sudden jerks on the rope binding my wrists so a flare of pain ripped through my shoulders each time. My joints ached as though the sockets themselves were crying out, begging him to stop. Dorian never laughed, but I could tell he was entertained.
How I hated him.
I made sure to whimper and tear up as he expected me to each time he injured me, but also made sure he saw fear in my eyes between each incident. Each time I let out a noise of pain, his lip curled in satisfaction, and a little extra time would pass before he yanked on the ropes again. All I needed was to buy a little bit of time to create a new plan.
I couldn’t use sophor berries again; he had been warned of that and had been inspecting and sniffing each bite of food as thoroughly as a suspicious wolf. He prided himself on his caution and superiority, and pride was a trait I was familiar enough with to know how to exploit.
But hunger had begun to slow me. Two days without food I could tolerate, not cheerfully, but I would manage to endure. But thirst…my leathery tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and my thoughts thickened. I dared not drink or eat anything offered here; I wouldn’t put it past the sheriff to triumph by my quiet death before Father arrived.
So at dusk, I forced the matter.
“I need to wash,” I told Dorian, pitching my voice to pitiful sweetness. “Please—the brook. I can’t go on like this.”
He snorted derisively. “Your hair isn’t smoothed to perfection?”
“Tisn’t my hair that needs washing,” I said, blinking up at him with wide eyes.
“Then what?”
I hesitated. “Well, you see… It’s…my time of the month. And unless you can find some soft moss?—”
“All right! All right! Enough!” Suddenly squeamish, color drained from his face and he jumped to his feet, not even bothering to jerk on my ropes again. “Womenfolk,” he muttered under his breath, shuddering. “Disgusting.”
I nearly smiled. It never failed to amuse me that men like Dorian, so prone to act with a great deal of bravado andmanliness, would fall apart at the mention of feminine needs. These types of men would fold instantly rather than hear one word about it at all.
As we made our way past the tents, curious faces peeked out. Dorian waved them off with a jerk of his head and an expression that suggested he would rather fight a bear than explain.
