Page 60 of The Swindler’s Daughter

Still, this wasn’t a festival flirtation. I knew Rowan and amazingly enough, I felt as though he knew me too. Knew me and cared about me.

I returned my gaze to the competition. The contestants had been shuffled around, but I found Rowan easily, catching his eye several more times as he waited for others to take their turns. I watched each time he stepped up to compete, admiring his form and confidence, loudly cheering him on as he advanced, round after round. Each time he released an arrow, he would watch to see where it landed then cut his eyes over to me, giving me either a smile or a wink before lowering his bow and stepping back.

It made me smile every time.

There were only five competitors left when Rowan’s nerves began to show. Several times as he was waiting for the horn to sound, he glanced up toward the platform. I followed his gaze, confused by what would have him distracted when he was on the verge of winning the entire competition.

For a fleeting moment, I wondered if he was distracted by the Lady Paramount, who sat primly in her spot, looking lovely and nervous.

Then I looked at the man beside her and my heart tripped. It was no longer the constable that sat in the judge’s seat, but Magistrate Reeve himself. He was leaning to one side in his chair, his elbow propped on the armrest and two fingers resting against his mouth. His gaze was intent and decidedly fixed on Rowan.

Fear squeezed my heart. Reeve wouldn’t recognize Rowan, would he? I had the sudden urge to warn Rowan off, to somehow communicate to him that he should do his best to lose and get out of there. But the horn sounded and Rowan was like a machine, drawing and firing on instinct.

The crowd roared and it took me a few moments to realize that two of the contestants had been knocked out. Rowan was one of the last three. They would fire again, knocking out the third-place contender, before the last two would shoot for the win.

Several men moved three of the targets back ten paces and then the official called the contestants to their designated line. Rowan looked over at me, and I gave him a desperate shake of my head, knowing he likely wouldn’t understand my meaning, but I had to try.

He gave me a tiny nod just before the horn sounded. Three arrows thunked into the targets and my shoulders dropped in relief when I saw that while the other two had hit near the center of the bullseye, Rowan’s landed on the edge of the center ring, almost touching the second.

He stepped back, giving the other two room to square up with their targets, which were again moved back before they shot for the title of champion.

I wanted so badly to leave, to pull Rowan from the arena and get as far away from Reeve and the festival as we could. Instead, the last round was shot, the winner was determined, and all three finalists were invited up onto the platform on which Magistrate Reeve sat.

Rowan climbed the few stairs with dignity, but the way his hand clenched and unclenched on his bow that hung from his shoulder hinted at his worry. If only he’d gotten out when there were five left, he could have departed without any fanfare.

I turned and started pushing my way through the crowd, desperate to get closer to Rowan. Deep in my gut, I knew that something was going to happen, something bad, and I needed to be there to help.

“Miriam, where are you going?” John asked from behind me.

I took only a moment to grab on to his cloak so that I could pull him with me. “Something is wrong. Something is going to go wrong.”

“Something? What something?” he asked.

We broke out of the crowd and I started weaving my way around the people and stalls that surrounded the arena. “Rowan is up on that platform with the magistrate right now. The man whose house we broke into.”

“They didn’t see our faces. We were all in hoods.”

I paused long enough to turn and face him. “Are you certain?”

“I—” He looked at me but his confidence wavered. “I’m almost certain.”

I kept walking. I could hear the shouts of the magistrate as he presented the winners to the spectators, his voice rising just above the cacophony of the crowd’s cheering. We reached the backside of the platform just as the three winners were each raising their arms above their heads, their trophies in hand as they soaked in the admiration of the crowd.

The Lady Paramount stood sideways, so I could see her smile in profile. She clapped enthusiastically along with all the rest, and then as the cheers died down, she got the contestants’ attention and gestured for them to leave the platform.

I held my breath. All Rowan had to do was leave. Leave and come find me. Leave and come find me. Then we could go home where I knew we’d be safe.

Rowan started down the steps first, allowing the first-place winner his last moments of glory as the crowd continued to cheer. I started to believe Rowan would be allowed to leave without incident, but as soon as his feet touched the ground, a constable stepped forward, took his arms, and propelled him away from the arena.

“No,” I sighed in dismay, my feet moving toward him.

Rowan was struggling to release himself, and I ran forward, desperate to help, only to be caught around the waist and yanked in the opposite direction. The world seemed to spin around me and I lost my bearings as I fought against the hands that dragged me one moment and picked me up the next. It wasn’t until I’d hit the floor, landing on my hands and knees, that I was finally able to figure out what had happened.

Looking up, I realized I was inside one of the large tents that dotted the festival; a constable stood over me as Rowan was manhandled through the tent flap by another lawman.

Magistrate Reeve entered soon after, letting the tent flap close behind him before drawing his sword and placing the tip at Rowan’s chest with a dangerous curve of his mouth.

I stopped breathing.