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Back Nottingham Save as PDF
Chapters (76)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. PART I
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. FIVE
  11. SIX
  12. SEVEN
  13. EIGHT
  14. NINE
  15. PART II
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. PART III
  27. TWENTY
  28. TWENTY-ONE
  29. TWENTY-TWO
  30. TWENTY-THREE
  31. TWENTY-FOUR
  32. TWENTY-FIVE
  33. TWENTY-SIX
  34. INTERLUDE
  35. PART IV
  36. TWENTY-SEVEN
  37. TWENTY-EIGHT
  38. TWENTY-NINE
  39. THIRTY
  40. THIRTY-ONE
  41. THIRTY-TWO
  42. THIRTY-THREE
  43. THIRTY-FOUR
  44. INTERLUDE
  45. PART V
  46. THIRTY-FIVE
  47. THIRTY-SIX
  48. THIRTY-SEVEN
  49. THIRTY-EIGHT
  50. PART VI
  51. THIRTY-NINE
  52. FORTY
  53. FORTY-ONE
  54. FORTY-TWO
  55. FORTY-THREE
  56. FORTY-FOUR
  57. FORTY-FIVE
  58. INTERLUDE
  59. PART VII
  60. FORTY-SIX
  61. FORTY-SEVEN
  62. FORTY-EIGHT
  63. FORTY-NINE
  64. FIFTY
  65. FIFTY-ONE
  66. FIFTY-TWO
  67. PART VIII
  68. FIFTY-THREE
  69. FIFTY-FOUR
  70. FIFTY-FIVE
  71. FIFTY-SIX
  72. EPILOGUE
  73. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  74. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  75. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  76. Newsletter Sign-up

When the tip was hot, Gilbert placed the blade down long enough to peel off his glove. In the candlelight the hand looked worse than ever, swollen and slimy, massive cracks winding through the twisted scar tissue. Alternating soft and stone patches, a history of pain. Without breaking eye contact with Jacelyn, Gilbert placed his own wrist over the fire, the very base at the palm, the sting was an old friend, an old enemy. He had saved this spot in his wrist for a long time. The smell of burning flesh was one that compared to nothing else. When he felt his skin churn into char he pulled his wrist away and plunged only the tip of the dagger into the wound, and his vision went white and every nerve in his body ripped open, cleansing him, erasing what he had done that morning. Reborn out of the pain, and the white faded to black and his head was on the table.

“Here’s what I want to know,” her voice was the only thing in the world. “If you’re going to kill, why not kill someone who deserves to die? They’re everywhere, you know.”

The words struck him as clearly as the pain. The pebble, the guilt, wasn’t about killing the nothing man. It was about wasting his time on the nothing man. He had left Marion’s men because he was done wasting time, which was their chiefest of skills. His rules had protected him, true enough, but they’d also hampered him. His bones would itch again, and soon, and here in the Black Guard he could put its relief to better use than nothing men.

Though whether he’d do so alongside the Guard, or upon them, was the curiosity.

Gilbert wrapped up his wrist, he caught his breath and held it, counting. Slowly. He wiped the blood from his arm, which was stiff up to the elbow. He stood from the table and leaned down to Jacelyn.

Thank you, he whispered, and kissed her on the dead side of her face, and stood and left, didn’t he?

PART VII

ARNALDIA

FORTY-SIX

GUY OF GISBOURNE

NOTTINGHAM CASTLE

THE PUNCHLINE CAME, AND the endless parade of Guy’s misfortune was complete. All he could do now was laugh.

What a welcome relief it was, this turning point. Up until that moment, when the dramatics crashed into hysterics, Guy had been clenching his fingers into fists, and his toes, too. Little footfists. But this final proverbial straw let Guy break down into laughter, a slap-happy ticklish sort of mania that brought tears to his eyes. The others at the longtable gaped at him as if he had gone mad, and they were exactly incorrect. In reality, Guy had finally gone sane. Trying to keep common sense in Nottingham—that had been insanity.