“Get the hell off her!” Rob yelled, and I saw his sword appear at Gisbourne’s neck, ready to stroke through his throat.

Gisbourne let me go and rolled away to block. Robin charged him. Between the smoke in the air and the lightning in my eyes, he looked like some angel, all holy fury and righteous fire. Their swords hit and sliced through the smoke, Robin battling him back fast. “Get to the tunnel, Scar!” he roared. “A guard made it in, I don’t know how far!”

I were still sputtering for breath, and a guard came at me, but I kicked him in the chest and sliced his face, sending him to the ground. “I won’t go without you!” I snapped.

“How sweet,” Gisbourne said, hacking at Rob. “So you’re the little drab’s new lover? Don’t believe her if she says she’ll marry you,” he taunted, lunging at Rob again.

“Get the guard or the people are dead, Scar! I’m behind you!”

“Guards, don’t let her get away!” Gisbourne called.

I fought off another guard, hesitating. “Rob, come now!”

Gisbourne backed him up against the wall, and Rob hacked him to the side.

“He’s a little busy, Marian!” Gisbourne said. He had blood on his face and it made his smile look like it were slashed with demon blood, wicked and mad.

“Robin!” I shrieked, letting the guards push me back.

“Dammit, Scar, get that guard now!” Rob ordered.

Every bit of me screamed, but I dispatched two more guards and made for the tunnel. I slammed the door behind me and started running, listening for the sound of the door opening again or for the heavy chain-mail steps of a guard ahead of me. It were pitch-black, but I listened, hearing the people’s voices far ahead, and a labored breath close by.

“Robin?” someone asked.

I touched a body, and it were wet with blood. “You’re hurt,” I said. “Where is he? Did he get far ahead?”

“Who?” he asked.

“The guard!”

He heaved out a breath. “I was hurt in the prison,” he said. “Where’s Robin?”

It were the man Rob brought out. I turned back, realizing what he’d done as my belly pushed up into my pipes and the world went off-kilter round my ears. I could hear guards now, entering the tunnel.

Rob had sent me running off without him, knowing he wouldn’t be behind. Knowing Gisbourne would kill him. He’d lied ’bout the guard, knowing it were the only way I’d leave him.

And he’d done it to save my life.

I dropped to a knee. My muscles couldn’t hold me none, and my eyes went wet. My head felt fair twisted, because half my heart squeezed with fear for him, with awful guilt, for his life were worth thousands of mine. Then, worse, the other half of my heart flew with the thought that maybe he trusted me after all. Maybe things weren’t as broken as I thought.

It were a terrible thought, for Rob might have been dying for me just then.

My mouth twisted to a frown. That damn hero needed a few lumps to the head if he thought I were just going to let him do it.

The heavy sound of chain mail rattled through the tunnel.

“Come on,” I told the injured man, struggling to my legs like a new foal and pulling his arm ’cross my shoulders. “We have to run now so I can get back to Robin.”

He hobbled and I ran, seeing bleak moonlight at the end of the tunnel, hearing the heavy steps come closer. John stood at the end of the tunnel, and he took the man from me. I turned to go back and he grabbed me. “Scar, can’t you hear them? The guards are coming!”

“Rob’s back there!” I wailed, fighting him. “Rob’s back there—I have to help!”

“You can’t take on the army yourself!”

“Get your damn hands off me!” I shrieked. “I have to help Robin!”

John didn’t let me go, climbing down and cutting the rope with me fighting him tooth and nail. Every inch farther he forced me sank and broke my heart. We were almost to the bottom when the guards appeared, watching us and the injured man climb down to Much and the rest of the villagers. John pulled me into the cover of the trees. “Christ, Scar, you’re bleeding everywhere.”

I couldn’t feel it. I felt sick and numb, my heart racing and slamming without any emotion behind it. I felt tears—or maybe blood—on my face and I ground my palms into my eyes.

“Scar?” Much said.

I ignored him.

“Scar, I doubt the sheriff will kill him. He’ll want someone to hang, and the Hood is a pretty damn good catch. Come on. We’ll fix you up and come back; no one’s leaving Rob to die.”

The only thing I could hear were running water. Running water and my heartbeat, beating my insides up. Wait—running water.

I looked up, searching the rocky cliff. There it were, tucked far to the side, not so much a tunnel as a spout, a river of water draining out from the castle. From the prison.

“Scar!” John yelled.

Before anyone could stop me, I scaled the rocks and slid into the spout. Water splashed down my front and I yelped, but I fit. I fit, and no one else would. I pushed forward against the water, crawling deep into Castle Rock.

He damn well better be alive.

The tunnel ran at a sharp incline and I had to claw my way up, freezing water running over the worn rocks. It ran over me, too, like it didn’t know that I weren’t no rock, quick and cold through my wound so I didn’t feel it none. I weren’t sure if it were still bleeding or if it would kill me, but I didn’t much care.