“He got people out through the tunnel,” Much told me.

“The tunnel? I thought they blocked that,” I said, looking at Rob.

He lifted a shoulder. “Not well. I opened it while I was sheriff.”

My mouth tightened. Why would he have done that? I couldn’t guess, but it felt like it had something to do with me. With me being away from him.

“He sent word to me,” Much said. “And I got everyone from the villages to the forest before they could come for their homes too.”

People squished closer to one another at this, like being close would prevent it from being true. Or maybe from happening again. Or both.

“Who were the people on the battlements?” David asked soft.

“Two of the knights that remained,” Rob said. “The others were just people that didn’t come to the castle fast enough.” He shook his head, looking grim. “They just killed whoever they could get their hands on. Like life meant nothing to them.”

“They didn’t get their hands on many,” said another voice, coming through the gathered people. “Thanks to you, Sheriff.”

People moved aside to let Bess through, and I saw why. She were heavy with child, big and round and slow in the way she walked. Much stood, taking her hand and guiding her to him, and when she were close enough, he kissed her cheek. She gave him a gentle smile and sat down. He sat beside her, and she moved closer to him, leaning into his form.

Much’s eyes closed for a moment, like it were a joy to have her close to him. And then they opened, and looked at me. “You remember Bess, Scar?”

Loosing Rob’s hand, I stood and knelt by her so I could hug her. She touched my back to do it, and I stiffened but didn’t pull away. “You look—you’re . . .” I couldn’t. I had no words to say to her, when all I could see when I looked at her were John, dead in the snow.

“I’m Bess Miller now,” she told me. She fished a simple ring on a thread from around her neck with a smile. “I used to wear it on my finger but my fingers have gotten fat,” she told me, holding her hand up like I could tell it were thicker. I couldn’t.

Much took her hand, smiling at her, and it took me a breath to remember Miller were Much’s family name. She were Much’s wife. Much, who were bare a man. “Congratulations,” I said, stunned.

She covered my hand with a watery smile. “Thank you, Scarlet.”

“I’m sorry . . . I wish I had been here for the wedding,” I said, looking to Much.

He shrugged, and his throat worked. “You were dead, Scarlet,” he said. “Everyone said for months that you were. You’re not, and that’s more than I could have ever hoped for.”

“We have had enough of death,” Bess said. “Scarlet, please tell us your story. You cheated Death.”

A stone settled inside my chest, and I could bare breathe around it. Cheated Death—no, I brought death straight to their doors.

“There’s not much to tell,” I said, shrugging and going back to Rob.

“Not much to tell!” Allan laughed. “I’ll tell you her stories, if the lady won’t. First, the prince stole her from the gaze of the queen mother, hiding her in prisons round the country. Then he ordered for her to be killed in true, and her valiant knight, Sir David, fought them off—and nearly got her killed in London, where I saved her from hordes of rioters!”

David scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Why did he change his mind?” Rob asked, quiet, looking at me. “Why hide you one moment to kill you the next?”

“Prince John is going to try to prevent Richard from coming home,” I whispered to him.

“What?” Rob asked, frowning.

“And then, determined to protect her father—”

“Enough, Allan,” I said sharp. Everyone looked at me, and Allan looked hurt. “These aren’t stories. This is my life. And I don’t—I want—” My breath caught, and my hands curled tight on Rob. There were so many things to tell him, so many things I didn’t want Allan to be the bearer of.

I found my breath wouldn’t uncatch. I couldn’t breathe, and I shook my head, standing. I leapt over the log and moved through the people. They let me go, stepping aside until I got into the deep, empty woods, and I couldn’t hear people around me. I kept going, not knowing where I were headed.

“Scarlet!” Rob called, surprising close. I halted, and his heat touched me before his hands did, warm on my waist. “Scarlet,” he said soft. “Where are you running to?”

I turned to him. “I’m not running. I’m walking. And I just . . . I just . . .”

“Needed to get away from us,” he finished. “From me.” He didn’t sound angry. He sounded like he knew what I meant. Worse, he sounded hurt, and his eyes told the same.

“Those stories aren’t meant to be told,” I said, shaking my head. “Not like that. Not like I’m some damn hero for murdering people. Not like I cheat Death when all I do is bring it down on the heads of others.” I put my hands on his chest, looking at them. “The thought of you, Rob—it was all that got me through. That got me back here. I’d never run from you.”

His head pressed against mine. “You’re alive. You’re here. That’s all that matters now.”

“Is it?” I whispered.

“Yes.”