Page 112 of A Thief to Die For

Lucky grimaces, then yanks on the arrow and cries out. He falls back to the ground, arrow still in his leg.

‘Did he just faint?’ Samuel asks, disgusted.

‘Yes,’ I say, puzzled – but not at Lucky’s weak constitution. It’s that they haven’t shot him again. Even the first arrow wasn’t meant to kill him.

They still consider him one of them.

‘Someone go do it for him,’ shouts a guardsman. ‘Pickler, I nominate you.’

A man from behind me yells back. ‘I’m not getting shot. Why don’t you do it?’

‘I’ll do it,’ I shout.

‘What?’ Samuel attempts to grab me again, but I dodge him and strip off my weapons.

My heart is a hammer behind my ribs as I raise my hands. When my palms don’t gain any holes, I call out again. ‘I’m unarmed.’ Slowly, I show my head.

Any weapon that wasn’t pointed at me, sure is now. But as the guards peek out from their hiding spots, I see they’re some of the ones who flipped sides earlier, joining us in revolting. They’re just as trapped as we are.

‘What are you doing, Ryland?’ Samuel growls.

I’m making a gamble – probably our only shot. They haven’t killed Lucky because they don’t want to. And I think that’s not the only thing they don’t want. Slowly, I step out from behind the wagon.

I flinch, pulse racing, as an arrow flies right past me, only feet from my left arm.

‘Come on,’ I shout. ‘I’m trying to save one of your own.’

Someone scoffs. ‘He’s not ours any more.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ I say. ‘I think you have a lot of friends here – some have just decided your commander is a coward who’s not worth dying for.’ I inch forward another step. ‘Speaking of the man, where is he?’

The silence that follows is deafening.

‘Dead?’ I ask. ‘Or is he hiding, while you do the dirty work, as usual? You know you’re nothing to him.’ I take another step. ‘And he’s nothing without you. You hold all the power. So what are you going to do with it? Shoot your friends?’ I lock eyes with one, then two men who are looking out at me. ‘Or take this opportunity to get out from under a tyrant, which is as simple as walking away and leaving him here. No one else has to die today.’

For a long time, nothing happens, and then one guy curses, stands and strides towards the trees, leaving.

I wait.

A couple more pop out from their hiding spots. They’re more skittish and duck as they run away. Another one stands and aims his bow at me. My eyes close, bracing – of course, there had to be one. But when I finally chance a look, he’s slowly backing away.

‘It’s a trap. Don’t do it,’ someone warns.

‘How about we leave, but your men have to come out first?’ a guard calls from the grass.

He means Samuel and Levi. And good luck stripping Sam of –

Something sharp and dangerous pricks my gut. Emotions that aren’t mine. My gaze snaps up. Agatha is close. And she’s afraid.

There’s movement. A group of men ambush Samuel and Levi behind the wagon. An older man with a broom of a moustache takes the lead and yells at them, ‘Surrender. Drop to your knees!’

My friends must obey, because I don’t hear fighting. Moments later, an enraged Samuel and Levi are dragged out, hands tied behind them. Legs bound.

‘They’re secured,’ Moustache announces.

Samuel glares at me as if it’s my fault.

My heart pounds. At least they haven’t been shot; that should count for something.