Lily's second morning in captivity began with the tall archer ordering everyone to their feet.
She woke slowly beneath two cloaks, warm despite the cold forest air. Her cheek rested on Robin's arm, where a small damp patch had formed during the night. Lily wiped her mouth before anyone noticed and decided that the evidence did not exist.
Robin lay close behind her, one arm beneath her head and the other wrapped securely around her middle. When she turned, she found him already awake and watching her.
He smiled, then gently brushed a strand of platinum hair from her face.
"Good morning," Lily murmured.
Robin drew a nervous breath, clearly preparing something.
"Morning sunlight upon snow could never shine as beautifully as your hair," he whispered. "And waking beside you makes even this cruel world seem worth living in, my Lily."
Lily stared at him.
She had been awake for less than a minute, and he was already speaking like the hero of a terrible medieval romance.
"Thank you," she said awkwardly. "Your swollen eye is also very impressive. Like dark moon. Or burned bread."
Robin's smile faltered.
"And I am glad you are alive," Lily added quickly. "My brave Robin of the forest."
That repaired the damage.
Robin leaned closer, his eyes beginning to close. Lily had no idea what he intended, but closing her own eyes seemed like the safest response.
Yet before anything could happen, Robin yelped and disappeared from her arms.
The tall archer had caught the back of his cloak and hauled him upright.
"Enough, lover boy. Time to work."
He removed the rope from Robin's collar but kept the boy close as they headed into the forest. The archer carried the bow and arrows himself, leaving Robin to scout, forage, retrieve fallen game, and follow orders.
Lily stared.
They were simply letting him go?
At the moment Robin looked less like a prisoner and more like one of the brothers as the archer pointed toward the forest and ordered him to help scout and hunt.
Robin glanced back at Lily several times while being led away. She raised her good hand and gave him an uncertain wave.
He smiled as though she had promised to wait for him forever.
Then Lily looked toward the fat brother. Perhaps her rope would be removed too.
For one hopeful moment, she waited.
The fat man merely watched Robin and the archer disappear between the trees. Then he gave Lily's rope two short tugs, the way someone might pull upon a dog's leash to gain its attention.
"What are you staring at? Up, girl. I'm hungry."
The fat brother tugged the rope again, pressing the collar against Lily's throat.
"Make breakfast."
Lily's expression darkened.
Damn you.
She wisely kept that thought to herself, pushed herself upright, and went to work.
That second day settled into a routine they would follow until they reached civilization again.
While the tall archer took Robin ahead to hunt, forage, and scout the trail, the rest of the group moved slowly because of Lily's short legs, the fat brother's poor endurance, and the short brother's injury. Whenever the wounded man could no longer keep pace, the muscular brother simply lifted him and carried him onward.
At every stop, they fell into the same roles.
The short brother built the fire with quick, practiced hands. Once the flames were steady, he settled beside them to rest, idly turning a dagger through his fingers. Sweat covered his face, and the bandage beneath his clothes remained stained from Robin's arrow, yet he endured the pain without complaint.
The muscular brother gathered wood with unnecessary violence. He snapped branches that could easily have been moved aside, carried logs meant for two men, and seemed happiest whenever something heavy needed lifting or breaking.
The fat brother remained with Lily.
He kept her rope wrapped around one wrist while helping her prepare whatever Robin and the archer brought back. Lily gathered herbs, mushrooms, roots, and edible plants near the campsite, while he carried water, steadied bowls, and cut anything that required two working hands.
He also asked endless questions.
"What leaf is that?"
"Wild garlic."
"Good with rabbit?"
"Very."
"And those mushrooms?"
"Safe when cooked. Eat raw, stomach declares war."
Despite herself, Lily enjoyed teaching him. He was a glutton, certainly, but he was genuinely interested in food—where ingredients came from, how flavors worked together, and how proper preparation could turn a miserable piece of meat into something worth eating.
The more she watched him, the more convinced she became that he could have made a decent cook.
The others had useful talents too.
The short brother understood prices, supplies, routes, and numbers. Lily suspected he could read and write as well. He might have become a merchant, accountant, or shopkeeper.
The muscular brother was a muscle-headed destroyer, but he was also watchful and quick to notice movement in the forest. He could have worked as a guard, woodsman, or tavern bouncer.
Even the cruel archer possessed discipline, sharp senses, and genuine hunting skill. He might have made a frightening bartender who kept troublesome customers under control simply by staring at them.
Together, they might have run a respectable inn.
The short brother could manage the money, the fat one could cook, the muscular one could guard the door, and the archer could serve drinks while frightening everyone into behaving.
Instead, they had chosen crime.
Bruce had seen that happen during his years working narcotics. A man committed one crime, made quick money, and escaped punishment. The next crime became easier. Then came another.
Crime could become addictive.
Profit made people feel clever. Avoiding consequences made them feel untouchable. Eventually, those they harmed stopped being people and became customers, obstacles, or merchandise.
These brothers seemed new to serious crime. They were poor, desperate, and ambitious rather than hardened criminal lords.
Sometimes Lily found herself wondering whether they were truly beyond saving. Perhaps, if she taught them useful skills and showed them that honest work could still earn coin, they might choose a better path.
Then the fat man patted her head like an obedient dog.
Lily stiffened beneath his hand.
At other times, he rested a heavy palm between her shoulders or lifted a strand of her pale hair to examine it. None of the gestures openly hurt her, but each one reminded Lily that he did not see her as an equal.
He saw something he owned.
Whenever she hesitated or failed to answer quickly enough, his cheerful smile remained while his eyes turned cold. The rope would tighten, pressing the collar against her throat until she obeyed.
He could be pleasant when everything went his way.
That did not make him safe.
None of them were.
Still, Lily had learned that as long as she worked quietly, followed orders, and caused no trouble, the brothers usually left her unharmed. Her safety now depended upon keeping four criminals satisfied.
Even so, perhaps foolishly, she still wondered whether she could change them. Revenge would be satisfying, certainly, but would it not be better to turn them away from crime entirely?
When night came, Lily reunited with Robin and once again slept beside him beneath their two cloaks.
Several times he looked as though he wanted to speak. His mouth opened, he hesitated, and then his courage failed him.
Lily decided that was probably for the best. She felt awkward enough already.
Bruce had never shared a bed with Frank or anyone else. After late-night games and movies, Frank took the couch while Bruce usually ended up on the floor. Even Amber had claimed Bruce's bed for herself and sent him to sleep elsewhere.
Yet in this life, Lily had somehow slept beside Art and now Robin, both of whom insisted upon holding her protectively as though she might disappear during the night.
It was warm and strangely comforting. It was also confusing.
Why did they care so much? They barely knew her. Why did they keep trying to remain close, protect her, and hold her while she slept?
Lily eventually settled on the only explanation that made any sense.
Teenage boys were simply strange creatures.
On the third morning, the group finally emerged from the forest onto a dirt road and turned toward a poor village called Boating, built beside the equally unimaginative Boating Pond.
That was all the archer bothered to tell her.
Lily had no idea where they truly were or how far they had travelled. She simply followed wherever the rope around her neck led.
The road carried light medieval traffic. Horses pulled slow wooden carts and left generous piles of manure behind them. Peasants walked between villages carrying tools, sacks, and bundles meant for trade. A wagon loaded with neatly sawn planks rolled toward one way, while smaller carts carried grain, firewood, pottery, and other common supplies.
Lily understood the basic pattern quickly.
Villages produced food and raw materials. Towns, castles, and larger settlements turned those materials into tools and valuable goods. Traders then carried everything back and forth along the roads.
It was not grand commerce.
Only the slow movement of people and supplies moving between medieval settlements.
Still, Lily's hope rose with every traveler.
Someone might recognize her from the Dancing Dragon. A messenger from Einsway might remember Lily the Shining Star. Someone might see the rope, understand that something was wrong, and call for help.
Perhaps Art and Reinheart would appear around the next bend. Then Art could defeat the brothers easily. Reinheart could probably do it while half asleep.
But the painful truth was that neither of them knew her very well.
Lily and Art had met only a few times. They had fought, eaten together, talked, and spent one strange night sharing food and warmth. Reinheart had also treated her kindly, but Lily did not even know their real names.
Why would they abandon their journey to search for one unknown forest girl?
Art had spoken boldly about protecting her, but words meant little without actions behind them.
The thought hurt more than Lily wanted to admit.
The archer kept her hood pulled low while the fat brother led her behind the others by the rope attached to her collar. Robin walked freely beside them, his own collar mostly hidden beneath his clothes and cloak.
From a distance, Lily appeared to be the only slave in the group.
She searched every passing face.
Please notice me. Please understand. Please help.
Some people stared.
A few women looked at her with quiet sympathy. One old man frowned at the rope, while another woman crossed herself after glimpsing Lily's pale hair beneath the hood.
Yet nobody stopped, nobody questioned the brothers, nobody called for a guard.
Slowly, Lily understood. To these people, the collar explained everything.
They probably assumed she was a thief, debtor, runaway servant, criminal, or child lawfully sentenced to labor. Whatever they believed, none of them considered it their responsibility to interfere.
Lily felt like an unusual dog being led along the road.
People might notice its rare coat. They might wonder why it looked frightened. Some might even feel sorry for it.
But few would confront the owner and demand proof that the animal truly belonged to him.
Old Man Al had warned her.
A lone child without family, papers, or anyone willing to claim her could simply disappear.
Now Lily understood what he had meant.
Slavery was not hidden here. It was ordinary. And no stranger was going to rescue her merely because she looked afraid. Art and Reinheart might never discover what had happened. Mama and Papa Rob were still missing, and the animals from the lake could not follow her forever.
Robin was the only person she had.
He had promised to get them out, though his plan mostly involved becoming useful to the Brotherhood and waiting for an opportunity that might take years to appear.
That was not enough. Lily would need a plan of her own.
By evening, the brothers reached the wooden walls of Boating but chose to camp beneath the trees. They lacked the coin to house and feed six people, and the archer clearly did not want village guards examining the collars too closely.
They would enter Boating at first light and look for work.
For now, they spent another night beneath the stars.
Once the fire had burned low and the brothers appeared asleep, Lily slipped silently from beneath Robin's arm. Moving like a tiny ninja, she crept to the edge of the ground allowed by her rope and found a clear patch of grass.
Her left shoulder still prevented her from climbing or using both arms, but her legs worked.
Lily began with slow squats, then shifted into lunges, calf raises, and careful one-legged squats. She balanced upon one foot, lowering herself as far as she could before rising again. The movements warmed her body and awakened muscles stiff from days of walking.
Strong legs meant faster running, harder kicks, better balance, and possibly another attempt at wrapping them around an enemy's neck.
That technique had failed against Art. But Art was an unnatural monster boy and therefore did not count.
"Lily?"
She froze halfway through a pistol squat.
Robin sat beneath the cloak, watching her with sleepy confusion.
"What are you doing?" he whispered. "Are you casting some kind of spell?"
"What? No."
Robin glanced toward the full moon. "My father told me witches perform strange movements beneath moonlight to strengthen their magic."
Lily slowly shook her head.
"No, Robin. Listen carefully. This called bodyweight exercise."
"Bodyweight?"
"You use own body to train muscles. It builds strength, balance, stamina, and endurance. Not giant useless muscles. Lean, strong muscles that keep working."
Robin studied her suspiciously.
Lily straightened and pointed at him.
"And if you want become strong like Art—the black-clothed monster hunter boy—you better watch and learn."
Robin's expression changed immediately.
"You truly believe this could make me as strong as him?"
"Maybe not that strong. He possibly eats rocks. But stronger than now."
Robin climbed to his feet.
"I have heard stories about the knights of Camelot," he whispered. "People say they follow secret training methods that ordinary soldiers are forbidden to see. That is why Albion's knights have become larger and stronger than those of other kingdoms. Some say that within a few years, they will be the strongest knights in the world."
Lily blinked.
Secret exercise programs in Camelot?
That sounded suspiciously like something a certain inventive crown prince might introduce.
"Well," she said, "this probably similar. Want try?"
Robin hesitated only briefly.
"Yes."
Unfortunately, enthusiasm did not create proper form.
His first squat was too shallow. His knees bent inward, his back folded, and he nearly tipped sideways.
"Lower," Lily whispered. "Feet wider. Knees follow toes."
"This feels unnatural."
"That because you doing it wrong."
His lunges were worse. His balance disappeared completely, and he had to grab a tree before falling into the grass.
Then came push-ups.
Robin lowered himself to the ground, bent his body in three different directions, and somehow pushed mostly with his neck.
Lily stared in horror.
"No. Stop. Before spine leaves body."
She corrected his hands, straightened his back, and showed him how to lower himself properly. Lily had never truly coached anyone before, beyond helping Sarah at the gym and showing Frank's children a few simple exercises, but Robin listened and improved quickly.
For the next half hour, they trained quietly beneath the moon.
Robin performed push-ups, squats, lunges, sit-ups, and balance holds. Lily trained beside him where her injury allowed, concentrating upon her legs, stomach, and lower back while correcting his form between repetitions.
By the end, both were sweating.
Robin's arms trembled. His legs looked ready to surrender.
"That only basic training," Lily informed him.
He stared at her as though she had betrayed him.
Lily nearly giggled.
Then she noticed movement beside the fire.
The tall archer lay upon one side, watching them through half-open eyes. Nearby, the muscular brother had also raised his head and was observing in silence.
Lily went still.
The archer's gaze moved from Robin's shaking arms to Lily's careful stance, suspicion slowly tightening his face.
"That enough for tonight," Lily whispered.
Robin did not argue.
They hurried back beneath the cloaks and lay down before the brothers decided to investigate. Robin fell asleep almost immediately, too exhausted for compliments, heroic declarations, or whatever strange thing he had attempted the previous morning.
Lily remained awake a little longer.
The brothers had seen them training. That was dangerous. But the first step had been taken.
Robin would grow stronger. Lily would recover. Together, they would study their captors, wait for an opening, and prepare for the day they could fight back.
It might take weeks. Perhaps months or years, but Lily had not surrendered.