“Trying to figure out how to pick up two at once?” she joked, and jogged between tables and barrels to help him.

Will didn’t respond, but instead he grew larger, sideways, a shadow growing from behind him, cloaked in black—its arm was wrapped around to the front and held a knife to Will’s throat.

“Silently she gets on her knees,” the voice said, and Elena’s blood went cold. “Silently, or she watches her lover die.”

But Elena was already on her knees. She hadn’t even thought about it.

“Silently she unbuckles her belt, silently,” it said again, “and drops her weapons on the ground.”

Elena’s fingers fumbled on the buckle, even though she had no weapons on it, and she tried so hard, so hard, to place it down without making a noise.

“Silently, she moves back, silently.”

Elena crawled back on all fours, sliding each limb without a breath.

“Not as much fun on that end, no?” said the voice. “As Captain of the Sheriff’s Guard, I should let you know that I speak for the Sheriff himself and you may consider my word his law.”

Elena closed her eyes and there was a sharp noise, the sound of Will’s throat opening, but no, it was the back door slamming open.

“Come on, you two!” John shouted, and was five paces into the room before he registered what was happening.

“Put your weapon down and get on your knees,” Gisbourne said softly.

“Damn it, that’s fine, that’s fine.” John leaned his quarterstaff against the wall. “Just don’t hurt him.”

“On your knees.”

John put a hand on a table, but his legs wobbled when he tried to lower himself. “They’re not so good these days.”

“My apologies then, why don’t I fetch you a divan to rest on, or you could get on your fucking knees.”

John winced as he did.

However long the next moment lasted, it was an eternity. But it ended with a quiet hoot from outside. “That’s it, Captain.”

“Very good, come and grab their weapons, will you?”

The front door opened and men poured in, more than had ever been at the fire ring, clattering through the room, taking their weapons. Elena’s eyes darted for anything left behind, a smithing hammer or a small blade, anything. A long thin hook lay on a table to her right, maybe small enough for her to pocket, if she could get to it. Gisbourne shoved Will forward and the chest spilled coins like blood on the ground. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this earlier,” he gloated to a skinny man beside him in a light cloak. “Why bother wasting time trying to find a bunch of rebels in the woods when you could get them to come to you instead?”

John still had some fire in him. “What you’re doing here is wrong.”