Nicolas prods me up, and soon I am scrambling across the hay just as something creaks below. Nicolas scampers after me, grabbing my ankle to stop me. As I turn, light floods the dark barn. Someone is holding open a door.

“It’s a barn.”

The man’s voice echoes through the cavernous space. Is it one of the duo who confronted Nicolas the day before? I believe so, though I cannot be sure.

“An empty barn,” he continues.

“Which is why we are looking for him here.” That does sound like the first man from the day before. “He has gone to ground in some hole or other. He is injured and in hiding, and I am not telling his lordship that we lost him again.”

I glance at Nicolas. He has settled in beside me, both of us stretched out on our stomachs. His hip presses against mine, and while I realize it is not the time for such thoughts, I must reflect that if this is how things were in the past, I wish they were so again. It is lovely to be with a man and not need to worry about—gasp!—touching, even in the most innocent way.

“There is no sign of him here,” the second man from yesterday says.

“No? Then explain this half-eaten apple, not yet browned?”

Nicolas closes his eyes in a wince. I whisper an apology, but he waves it off.

“I thought we were safe,” he whispers, his breath warm against my ear. “They do not usually pursue with such vigor.”

I turn my mouth to his ear. “It will not take them long to come up here. There is a hole in the roof behind us. We ought to climb out.”

“Why did I know you were going to say that?”

“Because it is the only escape route. Unless you would like to fight our way out.” I perk up. “There are only two of them. You have your sword. I have . . .” I pat my pockets and brandish one of my knives.

He shakes his head. “First, crécerelle, there are three horses. That means three men, presumably also the one who shot you. While I have my sword, I am never eager to fight. It is too easy to kill a man, and then I shall hang. As of now, a trip to the gallows is only a possibility. I would hate to make it an absolute.”

Below, the men are searching. A third has indeed joined. We are fortunate that the barn is both large and in poor repair, meaning there are many places for them to search.

We creep to the hole. It is not overly large, but we should be able to fit through. I grab both sides. Nicolas clamps a hand on my uninjured arm.

“Have you looked first, crécerelle?”

I have not, admittedly. Now I do, and I map out my options. When I do ease through, he does not try to stop me. I climb onto a narrow ledge and then lower myself with care to a crossbeam. I am poised there, flexing my feet, when a voice inside says, “I’ll check the hayloft.”