“Get out of here!” William admonished the squire. “Get us some drinks—and some gauze—and tell everyone else to settle down.”

His mouth fluttered about, searching for a response. “They snuck in through the servants’ gate,” Ferrers explained. “There’s another one—”

“Ferrers!” William shouted again, using it as both the name and the insult. He pointed out the door, as if it were not obvious that Ferrers was unwelcome. Robin did not mind the pause. He took the opportunity to catch his breath, to steady his nerves, to prepare for what had to follow. Ferrers eventually left, the door floating shut of its own accord, the broken plank keeping it slightly ajar.

“I’m sorry about that,” William chuckled, as if they had nothing to deal with other than idle banter. “You could have told me you were coming, you know? Would you put that away? This room is tiny, what do you suppose you’re going to do with it?”

William batted at Robin’s sword again, but Robin did not let his casual swagger sway him. Of course he would try to downplay everything. He knew he was in the wrong, so he was appealing toward Robin’s sympathies.

The words rose from a place of fury in Robin’s gut. “You’re a traitor to the King, William.”

“What? Who have you been talking to?” William sat on his side of the table, kicking beneath it at the other chair. “Have a seat.”

The chair slid across the cobbled floor, caught a stone, and tumbled over, which was perfectly fine. Robin had neither the time nor the desire to sit.

“I’ve been talking to your dog, Lord Gisbourne. He brought me this.” Robin withdrew the edict, stamped equally now in both wax and blood. He threw it onto the table for William to deny. “Are you going to tell me that’s not your signature?”

There was only a low, selfish sort of laughter from William, as he poked the paper with two fingers. “Do you think I’m insane? I’m not going to burn down a forest. This was just a ruse, it was Gisbourne’s idea, he insisted upon it. He thought it might lure you out into the open.” He chuckled a bit more, tapping the table in delight. “Apparently it worked!”

“It bears your signature!”

“If I thought you’d actually fall for it, I wouldn’t have signed it. Robin, this is a delicate position, I think you could appreciate that. Anything I could do to keep Gisbourne off my back was worth it. I’m barely keeping things from unraveling here.” He traced his fingers through the papers on his desk, as if his menial administrative tasks could in any way compare to what Robin’s men had experienced. “What about you, how are things going on your end?”