After Robin's failed rescue and brutal branding, Lily feared the men might decide that one punishment was not enough.
Instead, exhaustion seemed to overcome even their cruelty. After checking the wound of their injured brother, they returned to their places around the fire and settled down as though nothing important had happened—as though they had not just beaten, burned, and enslaved a boy.
Robin lay beside Lily with his head resting in her lap. One side of his face was badly bruised, his lip split, and one eye had already begun swelling shut. Pain disturbed his sleep from time to time, tightening his expression or drawing a quiet sound from his throat. Whenever it did, Lily gently ran her fingers through his hair until he relaxed again.
Her own body was hardly in better condition. The burns across her shoulder and back throbbed with every heartbeat. Her ribs ached whenever she breathed too deeply, and the collar around her neck felt heavier with every passing moment.
Yet beside Robin, those things seemed less important.
He had come for her. His plan had been foolish, reckless, and almost completely useless—but he had followed four armed criminals into the forest because he believed she was in danger. Now he had lost his weapons, his freedom, and perhaps his future because of it.
Lily could not allow him to suffer alone.
Robin might have been older and much larger than she was, but to Lily he was still only a teenage boy: brave, inexperienced, and completely unprepared for what had happened to him. She, at least, had already lived through one lifetime. She had faced violence, death, loneliness, and years of survival before Robin had ever laid eyes upon her.
Thus, as the only true adult between them—if not in body, then at least in spirit—Lily felt responsible for the brave, foolish boy and his well-being.
So she remained awake long after the cabin had fallen silent, one hand resting protectively upon his head while her violet eyes watched the four sleeping men beside the fire. If any of them approached, she would wake. If they tried to hurt him again, she would do whatever she could to stop them.
She did not know how much protection her small, injured body could truly offer. But she would try.
Eventually, exhaustion became stronger than fear. Lily's eyelids grew heavy, and her watchful stare slowly lost focus. Still cradling Robin's head in her lap, she leaned against the broken wall and slipped into a shallow, uneasy sleep—one hand remaining tangled protectively in his hair.
And when Lily opened her eyes again, daylight had already filled the ruined cabin.
The brothers ate quickly, packed whatever food and supplies they could carry, and divided Robin's belongings among themselves. The tall archer took his bow and quiver. His knife, coins, and the rest disappeared into their sacks.
Then ropes were retied through the rings of Lily's and Robin's collars, both ends now held by the fat man.
They left shortly after sunrise.
There was no farewell. No time to call to the animals watching from the trees, grass, and broken walls. Lily managed only one glance back at the cabin, the lake, and everything she had built.
Art had not come. Reinheart had not come. Nobody had.
The rope snapped tight.
"Move."
Lily stumbled forward and was dragged away beside Robin like a dog on a lead.
She did not look back again.
The brothers led them around the far side of the lake and into a part of the forest Lily had never seen, steadily putting her home—and Einsway—behind them.
As they travelled deeper into the forest, Lily and Robin were kept at the rear of the group, the ropes fastened to their collars tied securely around the fat man's belt.
Whenever the path grew difficult, Robin tried to help her. He guided her around deep patches of mud, caught her arm when she stumbled, and lifted branches out of her way. At one fallen tree, he even crouched and offered his hand as though escorting her across some dangerous chasm.
"I've got you," he kept murmuring. "Don't worry. I'm here."
He was clearly trying to sound brave.
Lily found it strangely touching—and slightly irritating.
Robin still did not understand who she was. He saw a smaller girl who needed protecting, not an adult mind trapped inside a child's body. He did not know that she had already lived one lifetime, died, been reborn, survived alone for years, fought animals and men, and built an entire lakeside kingdom with her own hands.
So, once the brothers had moved far enough ahead, Lily decided to catch him up.
Keeping her voice low, she told Robin what had happened before he arrived. She explained how she had lived alone beside the lake, growing food, building tools, and maintaining an uneasy peace between the animals around her. She admitted that she possessed a strange form of magic—one that strengthened plants, encouraged growth, and allowed her to understand animals better than she should.
That, she explained, was why the brothers now carried berries larger than their fists and vegetables no ordinary farm could produce.
Several paces ahead, the fat man loudly tore another bite from a cabbage nearly the size of his head. Juice ran through his beard and dripped down the front of his tunic as he chewed with his mouth open.
Robin stared at him with open disgust.
Lily continued.
"The men think I valuable," she whispered. "They plan sell me, or force me grow things for them. Whatever makes most coin."
Robin's expression darkened with every word. His jaw tightened, and his bruised hands curled into fists, but he listened without interrupting.
Before Lily could explain more, the tall archer glanced back over his shoulder.
His narrow eyes moved between them.
"What are you two whispering about?"
"Nothing," Lily answered immediately.
The archer clearly did not believe her.
He slowed until they were close enough to hear him without raising his voice. Then he began laying out their new rules in the calm, deliberate manner of a man explaining how much pain awaited anyone who disobeyed.
"You do what you're told," he said. "You work when we tell you to work, walk when we tell you to walk, and keep your mouths shut unless one of us asks you a question."
Neither Lily nor Robin answered.
The archer continued.
"Make yourselves useful. Make the Brotherhood enough coin, and perhaps you'll earn better treatment. Enough years of loyal service, and you might even earn your freedom."
Lily swallowed.
That part was almost certainly a lie—especially where she was concerned. If her magic proved as valuable as the men believed, they would never willingly release her.
The archer's mouth twisted into a thin smile.
"But try to run, fight, steal, call for help, or cause us trouble, and the punishment will be severe. You already know what that means."
The fresh burns beneath Lily's clothing throbbed as if in answer.
This was not school. There would be no detention, no lecture, no disappointed teacher asking her to think carefully about her behaviour.
These men punished disobedience with fists, blades, fire, and iron.
"And understand this," the archer added. "Your lives are tied together now. If one of you escapes, the other suffers for it. If one refuses to work, both are punished. If one becomes worthless, both of you pay the price."
His eyes lingered on Lily.
"So keep each other obedient."
Then he turned and resumed walking.
Robin glared at the man's back, fury trembling through him. After a moment, he reached down and took Lily's hand.
"Don't worry," he whispered. "I'm right here."
Lily looked at him in surprise.
She had been preparing to say exactly that to him.
For all his bruises, pain, and terrible judgment, Robin still believed it was his responsibility to reassure her. The thought softened something inside her.
She squeezed his hand.
"And I right here with you," she replied.
Together, they continued onward.
For most of the journey, Lily and Robin remained silent. Neither wanted to attract the brothers' attention again, so Lily listened instead.
The men complained constantly.
They had no horses, no proper tents, little food, almost no coin, and equipment held together by rust, old leather, and stubbornness. Their boots leaked. Their cloaks were torn. Their weapons needed repairs they could not afford.
They called themselves the Brotherhood of Kane, though Lily soon gathered that none of them seemed entirely certain whether their leader—Big Brother Kane—actually knew what he was doing.
Between complaints, they fantasized about the future.
They spoke of chests overflowing with gold, private castles, servants bowing whenever they passed, and frightened peasants obeying every command. They imagined themselves dressed like lords, eating meat every day and drinking wine until they could no longer stand.
Then the conversation became filthier.
They laughed about filling their beds with big-breasted women, arguing over who would have the largest number of mistresses and describing the women they wanted with crude enthusiasm. One bragged about having women with "fine tits" sitting in his lap from morning until night, while another insisted he wanted one between his legs during dinner.
The brothers roared with laughter.
Lily did not understand what was so funny.
A woman sitting on someone's lap did not sound especially impressive. It sounded uncomfortable, crowded, and likely to interfere with eating. The brothers clearly possessed a terrible sense of humour.
More importantly, she learned that Kane supposedly had a grand plan.
Unfortunately, the grand plan required money, and the Brotherhood possessed almost none.
From what Lily could gather, this so-called Brotherhood was probably nothing more than several groups of desperate bandits pretending to be an organization—less a true order and more a small, badly managed medieval mafia held together by greed, violence, and one man's promises.
Whatever Kane intended to build, Lily suspected she and Robin had just become the money meant to pay for it.
By sunset, the brothers chose a place beside a narrow forest stream and ordered everyone to stop.
Before the camp was even properly marked out, the tall archer turned toward Lily.
"What are you good for?" he asked. "What skills do you have?"
Lily answered without much thought, almost proudly.
She knew how to cook better food than most people had probably tasted in their lives. She understood plants, herbs, mushrooms, animals, tracking, shelter, and forest survival. She also knew something called hygiene, which, judging by the smell of the brothers, none of them had ever encountered.
"And I fight better than most," she added, lifting her chin.
The archer smirked at that, as he then stepped toward her.
Lily's confidence vanished so quickly that her breath caught. Robin immediately moved between them, but the man shoved him aside with one arm. Robin stumbled several steps before catching himself.
The archer gave him a single cold look.
Robin stopped.
Then the man placed one hand upon Lily's injured shoulder and pressed down.
Pain tore through her as she fell, and her knees struck the ground. Before she could recover, his other hand tangled in her hair and pulled her head back until she was forced to look up at him.
"You'll do fine women's work, then," he said. "First, lose the attitude. Second, stop yapping unless one of us asks you a question. You'll clean, cook, wash, and do whatever else we tell you. Do you understand, girl?"
Lily's throat tightened.
For one terrible moment, she could still feel the heat of the branding iron against her skin.
"Yes, sir," she answered quietly.
The archer released her with a satisfied smile.
Just like that, the brothers decided Lily would become their personal maid.
Robin, meanwhile, was assigned to the archer. The two of them disappeared into the forest to hunt, though Robin was not permitted to carry a weapon. The archer kept the bow, knives, and arrows. Robin's duties were to gather whatever the man pointed at, retrieve missed arrows, carry the game, and obey without argument.
Back at the stream, the remaining brothers began constructing the camp.
The short brother knelt over a shallow fire pit and struggled to bring a flame to life. The muscular brother cleared brush from the ground, dragged several short logs into place as seats, and gathered stones from the riverbank.
The fat brother remained with Lily.
He watched her constantly, carrying anything too heavy for her one working arm and jerking the rope attached to her collar whenever he wanted her attention. Each pull causing the iron ring within the leather to press painfully against her throat.
Lily's anger grew with every task.
She washed the brothers' filthy clothing in the cold stream, scrubbing away mud, sweat, old blood, and stains she did not want to identify. Then she hung the garments across low branches to dry.
She organized their miserable supplies, separated usable food from spoiled scraps, cleaned the greasy cooking pot, and arranged everything they would need for the evening meal.
The thought of slipping something poisonous into the food crossed her mind more than once.
She dismissed it just as quickly.
If even one of the men became sick, they would know exactly whom to blame. And Robin would likely be punished with her.
Whenever Lily struggled, the fat man helped. He steadied bowls, lifted water, and held objects in place while she worked with her single usable hand.
It almost appeared kind, yet Lily knew better. He merely wanted her to finish faster so he could eat sooner.
Once the fire was burning, Lily directed the muscular brother toward the stones he had collected. At her instruction, he arranged several of them around the flames, then placed a broad, flat river stone across the top.
The stone absorbed the heat and created a crude cooking surface, allowing Lily to prepare food without dropping everything into the fire.
The brothers were genuinely impressed.
The short man praised the design. The muscular one slapped the stone and declared it clever. Even the fat brother nodded approvingly.
Praise, however, was the only reward she received. Still, being useful was better than being considered disposable.
By the time Robin and the archer returned, darkness had gathered beneath the trees and the camp was ready for cooking.
Robin carried two dead rabbits over one shoulder. His arms were also filled with mushrooms, edible herbs, forest greens, and several chicken eggs found inside a nest wedged between the branches of a low tree.
According to him, the forest was overflowing with food.
Rabbits appeared everywhere. Mushrooms and useful plants grew thick beside the stream. Chickens wandered through the undergrowth and flew like birds into the trees the moment they saw armed men approaching.
Lily suspected those birds were descendants of the wandering citizens of her Lake.
The thought of letting these men eat their eggs made her stomach twist, but she had no power to object.
So she worked.
With the fat man holding ingredients steady and cutting whatever required two hands, Lily cleaned the rabbits and prepared the meat. She chopped mushrooms and herbs, mixed them with forest greens and beaten eggs, then cooked the mixture in thin, folded portions upon the heated stone.
They were a rough imitation of her forest egg rolls, prepared without proper tools and under the watch of four criminals.
Even so, the smell silenced the camp.
The short brother stopped tending the fire and stared. The muscular man leaned closer, sniffing openly. The fat brother attempted to steal a piece before it had finished cooking and burned his fingers badly enough to make Robin and the other men laugh.
When Lily finally placed the food into wooden bowls and served it, the men attacked it like starving wolves.
They tore through the rolls so quickly that the fat brother nearly choked while trying to swallow one whole. The muscular man scraped his bowl clean with his fingers. Even the archer paused after his first bite, genuine surprise briefly crossing his narrow face before his expression hardened again.
Robin also ate as he was permitted to sit beside the men near the fire. Lily on the other hand remained standing at the edge of the camp, waiting. She watched them eat expectantly, thinking that surely one bowl would be left for her.
Instead, the archer pointed toward the remaining ingredients.
"Make more."
Lily stared at him.
His expression did not change.
So she returned to the cooking stone.
While the men ate, talked, and laughed, Lily continued working. She prepared every remaining scrap of rabbit, every egg, every mushroom, and every usable leaf. Only when there was nothing left to cook did the archer finally allow her to stop.
There was still no bowl waiting for her.
Her reward was the privilege of kneeling beyond the edge of the firelight and watching them finish the meal she had made.
The archer was tormenting her deliberately. Lily understood that now.
He remembered the knife she had dropped onto his hand. He remembered the chase, the injury, and every moment she had resisted him. And now this was his revenge.
Lily said nothing, but Robin had noticed her watching. Guilt crossed his bruised face, and he started to hold out his bowl.
The muscular brother caught his wrist.
"Not yet," he said. "Men eat first. Women eat what remains."
Robin glared at him. Yet the man's grip only tightened, until slowly, Robin lowered the bowl.
Lily remained on her knees with her useless arm held close to her body. Hunger twisted through her stomach while the smell of rabbit, herbs, and roasted egg surrounded her. And as she sat there, rage built quietly within her.
Then the archer looked at her.
"Come on, girl," he said. "Sing us a song."
Lily stared at him, one violet eye twitching.
She had no lute. She had no reason to sing. And she had no desire to entertain the men who had hunted her, beaten her, burned her, and placed a slave collar around her throat.
The archer's wounded hand rested close to his knife.
His fingers curled slowly into a fist, as though he were deciding which would discipline her more effectively—the blade or his knuckles. And his stare made one thing perfectly clear, this was not a request.
Lily swallowed the first answer that rose into her throat, gave him a poisonous glare, drew a slow breath, and obeyed.
At first, nothing came to her.
There was only the crackle of the fire, the wet murmur of the stream, the sound of men chewing, and the darkness pressing close around the camp.
Then Lily searched through the memories of her former life until a melody finally surfaced. She lowered her eyes, drew a slow breath, and began to sing.
"Home is behind, the world lies ahead, and many are the paths we tread. Through shadow, to the edge of night, until the stars are all alight. Mist and shadow, cloud and shade, all shall fade. All shall… fade."
Her voice drifted softly across the camp, rising above the stream and slipping between the trees. She continued for several minutes, each verse carrying farther into the darkness until the final note faded into the forest.
For a time, no one spoke.
Even the brothers had stopped eating. The song seemed to have reached something buried beneath their greed and cruelty. For a few quiet moments, they looked like men remembering distant homes, lost roads, and all the choices that had brought them to this miserable camp.
Then the fat man sneered.
"Too gloomy," he complained. "Sing another."
Lily's fingers curled against her knees.
A small, furious hmph escaped her before she could stop it. She swallowed the rest of her anger and began again.
This time, she sang of an age before the kingdoms of men, when dwarves carved immense halls beneath mist-covered mountains and filled their caverns with gold. Their greed grew deeper than their mines, until a beast of flame rose from beneath the earth and claimed their kingdom for itself.
She sang of the surviving dwarves being driven into the wider world, wandering as smiths, merchants, and warriors while they waited for the day a hero would lead them home and reclaim the mountain that had been stolen from them.
The brothers listened with far greater interest than Lily expected.
She had assumed the mention of gold would satisfy them. Instead, something else in the story caught their attention.
At the first mention of dwarves, the short man leaned forward.
"You know stories about dwarves?"
Lily faltered.
"Well, yes. I know dwarves." She frowned. "But they are not real. At least, I do not think they are. Is that what you asking?"
The brothers looked at one another as though she had just questioned the existence of rivers. Even Robin appeared confused.
The tall archer studied her before answering.
"Of course they're real. Across the sea, mostly. Mountain folk. Miners and smiths. Merchants still trade with them, though few dwarves travel as far as Albion these day's."
The others nodded.
"They once lived here too," the archer continued. "In the mountains beyond river Rose, supposedly. Grand halls beneath the stone. Finest armor ever forged, hammers and axes strong enough to break ordinary steel."
The fat man licked grease from his fingers.
"Never seen one myself," he said. "But I once saw a dwarven shield in a merchant's hall. Black steel, shaped like a door, with spikes along its face. Took four men to lift it."
The short brother leaned closer to the fire.
"They say every dwarven vault holds enough gold to buy a kingdom. For their people were here long before ours arrived upon this earth from the stars."
Lily went still. The words struck something buried deep inside her memory.
She remembered her rebirth.
She remembered drifting between worlds and seeing colossal ships descending toward a distant planet. She remembered burning hulks tearing through the sky, crashing into the surface as darkness swallowed everything below. Then, much later, life had risen again from the ruins.
Until now, Lily had assumed she had been reborn somewhere in the distant past of an alternate Earth.
But what if this was not Earth at all?
What if humanity had come here from somewhere else? Another planet. Another star system. An entirely different galaxy.
The possibility was absurd. Yet the more she considered it, the less impossible it seemed.
She had heard the names Albion, Camelot, Uther, Arthur, and Leo. She had seen technologies that did not fit neatly together. She had heard of monsters, ancient ruins, vanished peoples, and now dwarves who had supposedly existed before humans descended from the stars.
Lily's thoughts began racing.
The archer's narrow eyes fixed upon her.
"What misty mountain was the song about?" he asked. "Do not hide it, girl. Everyone knows witches possess magic and foresight, even young ones. Your kind are rare, but the stories are clear enough. So tell us."
"I do not know," Lily answered carefully. "It only song I learned."
His suspicion deepened.
"And who taught it to you?"
Lily hesitated.
"A travelling bard," she said. Then, because panic and exhaustion were apparently determined to ruin her lies, she added, "But mostly the World Wide Web."
The brothers stared.
Lily continued before common sense could stop her.
"Nobody truly teach me. I opened screen, searched for information, found song in movie, heard it, and watched it. That all."
Silence followed. The men exchanged deeply suspicious looks.
The fat brother finally waved his empty bowl dismissively.
"Enough questions. The girl clearly knows nothing useful. If she knew where dwarven gold was buried, she wouldn't have spent her life beside some miserable lake. And she certainly wouldn't be travelling with us wearing a slave collar."
Lily's jaw tightened.
The fat man pointed his bowl toward her.
"Now sing another."
Lily looked toward Robin, expecting him to object—or at least recognize that the brothers were humiliating her for their entertainment.
Instead, he remained seated beside the fire with the same fascinated expression as the others. Even he wanted to hear more.
Traitor.
The minds of teenage boys were apparently far too easily conquered by songs about swords, treasure, and underground kingdoms.
Lily sighed and continued.
She sang of ships sailing west across forgotten seas. She sang of knights gathered around a round table and a heroic king who united a broken land and made his kingdom flourish. She sang of ruined fortresses, ancient swords, lost heirs, and heroes returning when the world needed them most.
One song became another.
The brothers kept demanding more, interrupting whenever a story caught their interest and arguing among themselves over whether any of it might be true.
At last, the archer leaned back with a satisfied smile.
"That's enough."
He tore a piece of meat from his bowl and tossed it toward Lily.
It landed in the dirt near her knees.
"Eat and rest. We leave before sunrise. We don't have the luxury of wasting half the night listening to you."
By then, nearly all the food was gone.
The archer ordered Lily to gather the wooden bowls, scrub them clean in the stream, and clear away whatever remained around the cooking stone. Her own meal amounted to the piece of meat he had thrown into the dirt, a few scraps the brothers had deemed unworthy of eating, and several berries from her pouch.
Lily carried the miserable collection to a patch of grass beyond the firelight and sat with her back toward the others.
Then she placed a berry in her mouth and chewed it with enough fury to make it regret being born.
Behind her, the brothers continued discussing dwarven gold, private castles, servants, and the women they intended to buy once Kane's grand plan made them rich.
Robin remained seated among them.
Lily refused to turn around.
She was too angry, too tired, and too humiliated to listen any longer. Pulling Art's damaged cloak tightly around herself, she lowered her head beneath the moonlight and tried to sleep.
Then one of the men mentioned her name.
Lily's ears immediately sharpened despite herself.
"Truly?" Robin asked, sounding astonished. "You would allow that?"
The archer answered with an amused laugh.
"Serve the Brotherhood well. Make us enough coin. Prove yourself useful, and anything is possible."
Robin did not object.
Lily had no idea what they were discussing, and she was too furious to care. She huffed into the cloak and muttered something about stupid, irritating, primitive men.
Still, a bitter sense of betrayal settled inside her.
Robin had not challenged them once during the meal. He had sat beside the brothers, eaten her food, listened to her songs, and spoken with the criminals as though they were travelling companions rather than the men who had beaten, branded, and collared them both.
Perhaps she had been foolish to expect anything different.
Robin was only a village boy. He had made one reckless attempt to rescue her and failed. Now that failure had frightened whatever courage remained out of him.
Angry and disappointed, Lily rolled onto her right side, keeping her injured shoulder away from the ground. She wrapped Art's damaged cloak more tightly around herself and closed her eyes.
The brothers gradually settled around the dying fire. Their conversation weakened into muttering before fading altogether.
Robin remained nearby, still behaving strangely, but Lily ignored him.
For the first time all day, no one was ordering her to cook, clean, carry, sing, kneel, or obey. The silence felt almost luxurious.
She had been useful, at least. Soon she would become even more useful. Useful enough to regain her strength, escape, and beat every one of these men until they learned proper manners.
That pleasant thought had nearly carried her into sleep when someone lay down directly behind her.
Lily opened one eye.
"What do you want?" she asked, irritation sharpening her exhausted voice.
"Nothing," Robin whispered. "I only wanted to make certain you were safe."
Lily groaned.
"I am fine, Robin. Go to sleep and leave me alone."
He said nothing.
Lily closed her eye again.
She had almost drifted off when his hand closed around her left hand.
Pain shot through her injured arm.
Her eyes snapped open.
"Robin," she hissed, jerking her hand away. "What do you think you are doing?"
He withdrew immediately.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I thought it might comfort you."
"It hurt."
"I know. I'm sorry."
His voice sounded so miserable that Lily's anger weakened slightly.
Robin hesitated before continuing.
"You seemed troubled. I wanted to do something, but I failed you at the cabin. I thought I could save you, and instead I only got caught."
Lily stared into the darkness ahead of her.
Robin drew a shaky breath.
"I don't know if I can protect you yet," he admitted. "But give me another chance. Let me try."
"What were you talking about with those men?"
Robin fell silent.
Lily turned her head enough to look at him.
"Robin."
He lowered his voice further.
"I spoke with the brothers. They said that if we work hard and make them enough coin, they may decide not to sell you."
Lily's stomach tightened.
"And?"
Robin hesitated.
"They said that if I proved myself useful—if I became one of them properly—then perhaps, one day, they might let me keep you."
Lily became completely awake.
"Keep me?"
The words sounded too much like ownership. Like livestock, property, or some reward handed from one man to another.
Robin quickly continued.
"Not like they mean it. I wouldn't treat you like a slave."
"That not answer."
"I mean I could protect you. No one else would be allowed to hurt you, sell you, or put their hands on you again."
Lily watched him carefully.
"You think they might truly set us free?"
"Maybe," Robin whispered.
Then he moved closer and pulled her against him before she could object. His voice dropped beside her ear.
"But I don't trust them. If they give me freedom, weapons, or a chance to train, I'll use it. I'll make them believe I'm loyal. I'll become stronger, and when the right moment comes, I'll take you and run."
Lily's breath caught.
"I swear it," Robin continued. "I'll save you, whatever it costs. Just trust me. Give me time to prove myself. One day I'll be stronger than these men. Stronger than that boy Art too."
Hope rose inside Lily before caution could crush it.
Someone else had a plan.
It was not a particularly good plan, and Robin had already demonstrated a dangerous misunderstanding of planning in general, but he had not surrendered. He was still thinking about escape.
Lily reached back and squeezed his hand once, reassuring herself that he was real.
Robin tightened his embrace.
"My father says it is a man's duty to keep his woman safe and happy."
Lily slowly turned her head toward him.
"Your woman?"
Even in the darkness, she could sense Robin's embarrassment.
"Perhaps not yet," he said. "But one day."
Lily stared at him.
Her first instinct was to pull away and demand that he stop behaving strangely.
Then she remembered that Robin was only a boy—perhaps fourteen winters old, though she had never bothered to ask.
Old Bruce remembered boys at that age.
One moment they were playing games, reading comics, fishing, and arguing about fictional heroes. The next, they were attempting push-ups, trying to deepen their voices, worrying about their hair, and staring helplessly at girls.
Frank had become particularly idiotic around Sarah.
Puberty was apparently a temporary form of madness.
Robin's talk of claiming and protecting her was likely his way of hiding how terrified he truly was. He had been beaten unconscious, branded, collared, and told that his life now belonged to armed criminals.
Yet he was still trying to act like her rescuer.
Perhaps Lily had judged him too harshly.
He had risked his life for her. Now he was trapped far from his father and home, pretending not to be afraid because he believed she needed him to be brave.
Lily released a quiet sigh.
"Fine," she muttered. "I trust you. You may lie beside me if you really must. But go to sleep already. We are both wounded, and your face does not look especially heroic with that black eye."
Robin gave a small, breathless laugh.
Then he moved immediately, as though afraid she might change her mind.
He slid close behind her, placed one arm beneath her head, and drew her against his chest. His other arm settled securely across her middle while his cloak spread over them both.
Lily stiffened.
She had agreed to let him lie beside her.
She had not expected him to turn his arm into a pillow and gather her against himself like a stuffed toy.
Robin's body was warm against her back. His breath stirred softly through her hair, and his heart beat so quickly that she could feel it through their clothing.
The poor boy must have been terrified.
That realization removed the last of Lily's irritation.
She relaxed against him and placed her good hand over the arm wrapped around her.
"It is all right," she whispered. "I will look after you too. We are team now."
Robin's embrace tightened.
He did not answer.
Lily closed her eyes.
For the moment, Robin was alive. He was warm, beside her, and had not attempted another catastrophic rescue plan since leaving the lake.
That was enough.
Whatever happened next, Lily silently promised that she would continue protecting him.
Behind her, Robin remained awake for a long time, holding her with a racing heart and believing he had finally convinced Lily to see him as something more than a foolish village boy.
Lily understood none of that.
She only knew that Robin was safe in her arms—or, technically, that she was safe in his.
For the first time since the branding, she allowed herself to sleep.