John looked at me, fury clouding over his mug.

“John, it’s done,” I said quick. “You don’t need to fuss.”

“What happened, Scar?”

My shoulders lifted. “The prince punished me,” I said, trying to say it like it were nothing. “He cut off two of my fingers.”

“Your—” His nostrils flared and he turned away from me, crossing his arms and glaring at the ground.

I stared at his back for a long moment before looking to Allan. “What word, Allan?”

“About your parents, none.”

“Allan! Why—” I started, but he shook his head.

“They switched the arrows.”

Chapter Twenty-One

“Who switched them?”

“Rob’s arrows?”

“For this round?” John, Much, and I all spoke at once.

“The prince’s men.” Allan looked at me, answering my question. “I don’t know what they did, but Gisbourne has the same arrows he did for the last three rounds. Robin’s are different.”

“So?” John asked. I scowled at him, but he shrugged. “Bow’s not really my weapon, is it?”

“If the spine is even slightly different, it will be damn near impossible for Rob to get a perfect shot, which he’ll need. And Gisbourne will win, and it will be very hard to prove they cheated,” Much explained.

“Like the prince would do anything about a cheat he helped with,” John grunted, half turning back to us. His eyes fell on my hand and his shoulders rolled.

The horn sounded and I whipped my head over to see pages walking onto the field with the arrows, filling two of the standing quivers. Rob and Gisbourne set out onto the field, walking toward the marks.

“Allan, please tell me you’re better at sneaking than wagging your chin,” I said, nodding him forward and pushing through the crowd to the edge.

“Scarlet, what are you doing?” John yelled.

“John,” I said, turning to him. “Stay here—we have to switch the arrows back.” He stepped forward, but I shook my head. “You’re one of the people we protect now. And that’s a good thing.”

He looked at me, and he looked less sure and cocky than I’d ever known him. He nodded once, and I took off.

The first steps jangled pain through my hand and stole my breath, but I kept moving, desperate to get to them before a shot were flown. My dress and cloak dragged over the snow like a horse’s harness, hauling me backward, but I kept going, Allan keeping pace at my side. We weren’t close. We weren’t going to make it.

The herald raised his horn and I cut onto the field, running through the snow.

My head and hand were pulsing. My feet were awful heavy to lift and I were going slower.

Slower still. I twisted my arm out from the sling—I couldn’t much run like that, hobbled by the awkward weight on my chest.

“Scarlet!” Allan yelled. Had he stopped running with me?

I turned and Winchester were there, catching me about the waist and bodily pulling me off the field. “Let me go!” I howled. “I have to warn him! The prince switched the arrows!”

Winchester gripped me, holding me still to watch from the fencing. “The only thing you will accomplish is getting yourself—or possibly Robin—hurt,” he told me. “Robin knew he was always going to cheat somehow, Lady Marian.”

I pushed him off. “You don’t know what you’ve done,” I told him, slumping against the fencing. My heart felt heavier than any of my injuries or snow-soaked clothing. My chest were trembling for breath. “If he loses—this is the only chance for the people.” For Rob.

“Have a little faith, my lady.”

Marshal strode out onto the field. “Three shots,” he yelled, and I could bare hear him from where I were—I doubted the common folk could hear him at all. “Best single shot of the three is the winner.”

With this he raised his arm, and lowered it. Gisbourne and Robin both let their arrows fly at the same moment.

From the second it left his fingers, I saw Rob could tell something were wrong. The arrow flew wide, lodging in the outermost ring. The stands went silent, and I heard chuckles and laughs from the nobles.

Gisbourne’s arrow were within the innermost black circle, but it weren’t dead on. His shot drew cheers from the nobles, and quiet from the stands as the people looked to each other, wondering what had happened, wondering how they were being cheated of their hero.

Rob’s chest were rising hard and fast, pluming white steam into the air from his breath like magic were circling him, giving him power. Rob’s feet drew together, and he raised his chin. He were staring down the target, running his fingers over the arrow.

He were the best shot I’d ever seen. He could do this. He could do this.

Marshal’s arm raised again, and they notched their arrows and drew. Gisbourne let his arrow fly first, singing in a careful line. It bit deep into the target. It were to the other edge of the inner black circle.

A good shot. An excellent shot, to any other archer. But it still left that small circle of hope, the size of my fist. A chance.

Rob’s stance were wide and comfortable, and he shook the tension out of his shoulders. His elegant, long arms raised again with the bow and arrow, and he let the arrow fly after a moment more.

It struck the outside of the second ring, and though it weren’t enough even to compete with Gisbourne’s strikes, the common folk leapt to their feet, cheering and shouting.