And she weepeth both night and day.

And by that bedside there standeth a stone:

Corpus Christi written thereon.”

As she continued to weep, slowly the voices got louder, covering her grief over and letting her cry in peace as the rest tried to bear her son’s soul to God’s hands.

I pushed tears off my face and turned away from them. I wanted to honor her grief, but my pain didn’t belong here. Instead, I turned and went up to the castle.

My castle now.

Memories flickered behind my eyes. I remembered when Gisbourne dragged me back from the gate when the people had been rioting, when de Clare near cut the hand off a young girl. I remembered walking, slow and numb, from the snow-filled bailey where Gisbourne’s body hung, where John bled bright red onto the white snow.

I remembered how my knees hurt, being made to kneel before the prince in the snow, on the stone cobbles.

I remembered rage and hate and pain and death.

And I felt so weary of them now. Of the pain that never ended, of the death that never stopped taking, of the rage that didn’t help anyone.

The prison where I’d almost lost Rob. The hall we’d tumbled to the ground, where I’d married Gisbourne, where I’d first met Eleanor.

I went up to the room I’d shared with Gisbourne, but all I could see were the way he threatened me, slammed me against the wall, trying to raise my skirts, trying to force me. I couldn’t even cross the threshold, and tears were starting in my eyes.

Refusing to let them fall, I went down to one of the low rooms, nearest to the prison. The last I’d been here, Rob had been living in these rooms, waiting to fight, taking the punishment that Prince John passed down and rising triumphant and unscathed, like something God himself had ordained. Like a phoenix.

And now the city were a pile of ash, and I would give my people a way to rise again. Somehow, they would be whole again.

I sat on the bed, letting the unwrapped fingertips of my hand skim slow over the pillow.

“There you are,” Much said, coming through the doorway. He went to the window, looking out for a minute before hopping onto the sill, looking at me. “Saw you come up here.”

I looked at him, seeing the changes again.

He chuckled. “You’ve gotten very surly, Scar.” I made a face, and he considered. “Well, I suppose you’ve always been surly. You’re just quieter now.”

I took a breath, looking at him. “I haven’t any idea what to say, Much. To anyone.”

He nodded solemn. “I understand that.”

“You and Bess?” I asked.

This made him smile. “Yes. I couldn’t do that to John—let his baby be born out of wedlock. It were Rob or me, and I couldn’t let Rob do it.”

This struck like ice in my chest. “Rob wanted to,” I said.

He shook his head, frowning at me. “Really, Scar? Of course he didn’t want to. When will you believe that he loves you?”

“I believe it,” I said, touching the bed again. “I just don’t know what it means. I think him loving me will always make Prince John hate us both. I think it’s hard to act for love when you know there can be consequences.”

He shook his head again. “Consequences,” he scoffed. “Our overlord just ordered our city burned, and we have to pay a tax so high to bring our king home that we can’t eat. And without our king, that overlord will probably manage to be the new one, and then what? What is ever without consequences, Scar?”

I looked at him, helpless.

“Nothing,” he answered. “So don’t be a fool and cast stones into a path that isn’t meant to have them. Love Rob. Be with Rob. Keep each other safe, and keep each other happy.”

I looked at him. “Is that what you’re doing with Bess?”

He looked so sad as soon as I said it. “Yes, but I’m the stupid one there. She loves John—she always will. And I love her. And unfortunately, the best I can do is protect her and raise John’s baby and make sure no harm ever comes to them. That’s the only way I can love her.”

Reaching out, I took his hand in my wrapped-up paw. “You’re kind of hard not to love, Much. You’ll win her yet.”

“Maybe,” he said, but I could tell he didn’t believe it. “But you need to see to Rob, Scar. He’s the sheriff of a city that just got slaughtered. And more than that, for once, and I thank God for this, he didn’t run into the fray like he always has. He didn’t put his life at risk. He put the people first, before his sometimes misguided sense of heroism, before his need to defeat an enemy. And while it was the right thing to do, I can’t imagine that was easy for him. And losing you—Christ, Scar, that has not been easy on him.”

I shuddered.

He rubbed my arm. “And I’m sure it hasn’t been easy for you either. So why don’t you take the tiny amount of solace that God offers you and stop being stupid and just be in love with him?”

I nodded. He were right about that, at least. “You’re always the best of us, Much.”

“Now that I’m not the only cripple, I might start to believe you when you say things like that,” he said, holding up my half hand in his.

“Come on,” I told him. “People need to eat. Let’s raid the kitchens.”

He stood and pulled me up by my hand, and I smiled.

“Turning into quite the gentleman, Much.”

He lifted a shoulder. “I do my best, m’lady.”