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I whispered to John, correcting Cyril’s words. “Winslow Abbey’s only choir.”
“Shh!” the big bear shifter hissed.
The scars on his hand turned white as he gripped the quarterstaff hidden in his robes.
I couldn’t risk raising my head to find Marian on the balcony, but I did lift my eyes. And there she stood, just visible beyond the edge of my hood.
My mate, my lion sighed.
She looked just as fierce and defiant as she had that first night, when I’d surprised her in the library.
My heart thumped. Was that truly only a short time ago? Well, that had been enough. Just those first few moments in her presence had changed my life forever. And after everything we’d experienced together…
My inner lion swished his tail, and my body warmed. My beast growled at the sight of her gripping the prince’s hand, but I knew she had no choice. Judging by the way her right sleeve bulged, she had a knife ready to go, too.
In spite of everything, I grinned and threw a message into her mind.
I know you haven’t been waiting around for some random man to rescue you, and I’m sure you have a brilliant plan worked out, but my friends and I would love to join the party if you don’t mind. No strings attached.
Her relief was audible.
Plan? I wish. I’m improvising. As for lending a hand, yes please! Also, I’m starting to change my mind about strings — as long as they attach to you.
I burned to see the prince get his comeuppance — but the question was, how would we outsmart the multiple backups he and Lady Thornton had in place? We needed something to throw them off guard — somehow. Even something tiny.
Too risky, I told Marian, sensing her prepare to draw her knife.
Every option is risky, she shot back.
True. Especially now that the first part of our plan had failed. Alan was supposed to fly in and set off an attack. But he was nowhere in sight.
Despite the chill of that winter day, I broke out in a sweat. The choir was getting to the end of their hymn, and still, no Alan in sight. John was moving his lips to the tune, but even he looked ready to explode.
Where the hell is he? the bear shifter fretted.
I scanned the sky. Our whole plan hinged on Alan creating a diversion — right now.
The minute the singing stops, I’ll charge and free Bess, John muttered.
I shook my head. Even you can’t beat a dropped torch. And that guard will slit Tom’s throat.
Marian and the prince stood on a balcony a good thirty feet from us. Not quite as far up, the sheriff, Lady Thornton, and Lady Winthrop occupied a wider part of the parapet that connected to ground level by stairs, where young Tom was being held.
We hadn’t been able to communicate our plans to Robynne or the sheriff, but I could tell he was barely holding back. Something had to give, and soon.
“A-men.” The choir hit their final note and held it.
…and held it, and held it, because that was Alan’s cue.
But Alan was nowhere in sight.
I shifted my weight from foot to foot, ready to morph into lion form.
“…nnnnnn,” Cyril dragged out the last note, turning red. One by one, the singers broke off and gasped for air. Cyril gallantly sang on, but even he started to peter out.
Still no Alan. My fingers twitched, eager to turn into claws.
When the hymn faded for good, Lady Thornton signaled the prince to move things along. He opened his mouth to shout an order, and—
