More arrows. More grunts of displeasure. But I don’t sense blood drawn or pain from my knights.
A voice rings out from the trees. “Halt in the name of—” An arrow thuds into the ground near the speaker. “Ow. Who fired that?”
Another voice yells back, “You told us to fire but not hit them.”
“Not at me, you cabbage.”
“Barry the unreliable strikes again,” someone grumbles.
“At least I hit something. Miss by a mile Mike couldn’t hit a giant from two feet away,” the guy who I’m assuming is Barry says.
I wriggle under Theo, trying to see who’s ambushing us. Mike and Barry don’t sound like threatening names.
The forest rustles, and ropes drop from the towering trees to the ground. About a dozen figures wearing mismatched leather, bits of armor, and green cloaks spiral down them on both sides of us. Several have masks made of carved wood. One has what appears to be a saucepan strapped to his head. Interesting choice of headwear. Are our pans still in our room at Hallows Castle? I have a medium-sized one that I was fond of. Great size to make tea, soup, and wash my face in—all in one.
One of the gang steps forward. Tall. Lean. Hooded. He sweeps his cloak aside as if he’s unveiling a statue we should bow to. Very dramatic. I’m enjoying the production.
“Travelers,” he roars. “I am Dave.”
Hart raises his sword. Nash spins a dagger in his hand. Malachi raises an eyebrow while still clutching Excalibur. Theo raises absolutely nothing because he’s too busy squishing me against the horse and deciding whether to set the entire forest on fire.
The hooded man spreads his arms. “You have been waylaid by the Brotherhood for the Unburdening of Tyrants’ Treasure!”
Silence.
I blink. Do they think they’re famous? “The what?”
“The Brotherhood of?—”
“I heard the first time,” I interrupt. “I just hoped it would improve on the second pass. You know you literally called yourselves BUTT?”
Dave sighs deeply. “I knew we should have recast the vote.”
Another man steps forward, an arrow still lodged in his bow as he shakes off his hood.
Oh, my. He’s pretty. Deep brown eyes, a chiseled jawline like the Idols carved him to enrapture everyone around him. A plush mouth set in a cruel smile that would melt the panties off half the maidens. Pity my panties already left the party, or I might have thrown them at him in approval.
Theo snarls.
Oops, this mind-meld thing is going to be a pain.
“Only if you comment on others’ beauty and panties,” he snaps.
Malachi tilts his head like he’s trying to figure out the context. Later, I’ll explain that his eldest brother stole them while he made me squirm on the ground under the stars.
I roll my eyes and jab my elbow into Theo’s stomach. I feel ridiculous being pinned like this.
“And we work closely with the Alliance for the Seizure of Silver,” another informs us, shaking a small green banner displayed between him and another guy.
BUTT endorsed by ASS.
I snort alongside Malachi, who looks close to falling off his horse.
“Branding is epic, guys,” Hart mutters.
Theo rises an inch at a time. I crack my neck and smile at the men surrounding us in a circle.
“So you’re a criminal organization built entirely on backside humor,” I point out.
