She slowed her rouncey Medus, who stomped his hooves in protest. They stopped before the dead jaws of the castle’s once proud main doors. Neither moat nor wall had ever protected Locksley’s entrance, often prompting Walter to insist it was a manor and not a castle, a scholastic distinction that would never matter again. She swung her leg free of Medus’s saddle and Sir Amon Swift helped her down, as diligent in his duties as he was silent in his opinion of them.

“I’d prefer to take a look first, my lady,” he said, and she let him. She doubted there was any danger here, but he was the most expensive gift she’d ever received and it was best to let him feel useful. A knight in times as these was a rarity, but her father had insisted on her protection. He paid the entirety of Sir Amon’s retainer after realizing he couldn’t stop his daughter from “gallivanting through the woods.” Sir Amon wisely bit his tongue on such matters, but had little issue in reminding her that his orders came from her father, and not her.

As Sir Amon side-stepped to the castle’s front entrance, Marion helped her attendant Clarell down from her own horse. Her puckered face was bright from the long ride.

“Stay here,” Marion said. “Tend to yourself, and the horses.”

In little time, Amon returned. Although there was little light left in the sky, Marion had no difficulty identifying the lean man at her knight’s side.

“Lady Marion.” Alan-a-Dale seemed relieved, and stumbled over himself.

She did not waste any time. “Where is he?”

“Inside.” Alan blew out his cheeks. “We didn’t think you’d get here so quickly.”

“I was in Sheffield, luckily.” She rarely used the room she paid for there, but David of Doncaster had found her with no difficulty. “We found someone you’ll be interested in,” he had said. “We’re bringing him home.”

Alan shifted. “Do you want to—”

“Lead the way. Sir Amon can stand watch.”

Alan abided and hurried within, through corridors she had once known well. Its air was cruel with echoes now, its floor littered with careless debris. The orange light at the end of their path seemed like a threat. She almost wished Alan would not walk so fast, to put off seeing it a bit longer. But all too soon they were within the cadaver of Locksley’s great dining hall. Once lit from above by either daylight or chandeliers, now the hearth was its only light. Lit from below, it was like walking into hell. Giant’s shadows stomped across the crumbling walls, every crag and cleft was turned into an open canyon.

“Does anybody need a pretty lady?” Alan announced glibly to the room. “I found one just wandering around.”

Will Scarlet perked up from where he lay beside the fire. “How pretty?”