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Now I had none of that authority.

The only man willing to retrieve the letter was Hugh Reyner.

He had a wife and two children, and he'd served beside me long enough that I trusted him with my life.

He was offering to risk his own because he still believed in me.

I wasn't certain I had the right to ask that of him.

We were about two hours from camp when Much caught up with us. He'd ridden hard, and his horse was nearly exhausted.

"Another proclamation," he said.

I looked at Robin.

She was already watching him.

"What's happened?" she asked.

"Fitzwalter had it read in Nottingham at noon."

Much swallowed.

"He's given you three days."

Robin went still.

"Three days for what?"

"If you don't surrender yourself at Nottingham Castle by Friday noon, the eleven villagers arrested in Thornby and Edwinstowe will be tried for treason."

I felt my stomach tighten.

Treason carried a death sentence.

Robin said nothing.

That concerned me more than anything she might've shouted. I'd known her to argue with soldiers, noblemen, merchants, and anyone else unfortunate enough to get in her way.

Now she rode beside me without speaking. Through our bond, I could feel her fear and guilt, but there was something else beneath them.

She was considering a decision.

One I suspected I wouldn't like.

After nearly half a mile, I reached across and caught her reins. "You're thinking about surrendering."

She looked away. "I haven't decided anything."

"You don't have to tell me. I can feel it."

"Then you can feel what's going to happen to those eleven people if I don't."

"And what happens when Fitzwalter has you?"

"At least the others might live."

"Robin."