Shadows of Sherwood Read Free Page B

moonlit atrium. A deep, whispered voice said, “Still no sign of the child.”
    Another man answered: “Look again.”
    Robyn did not return to the main hallway. She left the bathroom by the opposite door that led to the mudroom behind the kitchen. She ran up the rickety rear stairs and tore down the corridors to her bedroom. She ran toward the canopy bed, planning to slide under it into the deep shadows behind the dusty zoo of outgrown stuffed animals.
    Halfway across the room, she froze.
    Her covers had been mussed in an unusual way, the sheets torn back and the comforter strewn across the wooden chest below the footboard. Her childhood toys disturbed.
    Who was in the house? Why were they looking for her?
    It didn’t matter—she had to get out of there. Robyn ran toward the small ballerina painting on her wall and lifted it aside. She pressed her fingertips against the four indentations in the tiny wall safe. The latch clicked open. The slim space contained a pair of fingerless black gloves, a silver sphere the size of a golf ball, and a single pale-brown envelope. Nothing more?
    Heavy treads on the staircase. Robyn whipped her head around. The bedroom door was still wide open.
    Robyn didn’t have time to wonder further. She scooped the items into one hand and tried to jam them into the side pouch of her backpack as she ran to the window. She thrust her legs out and—oops! The silver sphere popped out of her grip and bounced down the stones.
    Trembling fingers made it harder to scale the wall. Fragmented instructions flitted through her mind, things her father had told her.
If anything ever happens to me or your mother . . .
    But these dire warnings were the sort of thing Robyn usually tuned out. Her father worried too much. He was always afraid of the day the government would come for them. But the fears were just carryovers from the old days of the Crescent Rebellion, her mother insisted. The rebels hadwon, and formed a Parliament. Her parents were
part
of the government now. Who would try to hurt them?
    But blood on the kitchen floor told a different story. Strange men in the house . . .
    Robyn’s sweating fingers lost their grip on the stones. She slid the last few feet to the ground. She scooped up the silver sphere, which lay in two pieces on the ground. Ignoring the fresh scrapes on her wrists and knees, she pushed off the wall and started running.

    â€œIt’s done, sir.” The leader stood in the Loxley Manor driveway and reported the news to the governor through the PalmTab screen. She held her hand up in front of her. The screen remained gray-black, which was Crown’s choice, but she knew he could still see her. “All dissident High Office personnel accounted for.”
    â€œExcellent.” The merest quiver in the responding voice revealed profound excitement. Months of planning, and now, perfect execution. “You know where to take them?”
    â€œYes, Governor.”
    The voice in the radio cleared its throat. A sinister little scratching sound. “I thought you said you’d achieved your objective.”
    The leader experienced a flutter of panic. Crown couldn’t know about the missing girl, could he? “Yes. We did, sir.”
    â€œThen, I’m no longer simply the governor, am I?”
    â€œOh no, of course not,” stammered the leader, relieved to discover the simplicity of her mistake. “Congratulations, Your Highness.”
    â€œThank you.” Crown paused. “There is a position open in my administration.”
    â€œI would imagine there are several,” said the leader.
    Over the thin airwaves, Crown’s laughter sounded like the squeal of distant tires. “Indeed.” Pause. “How does ‘deputy commissioner of the Nott City Military Police Department’ sound to you?”
    The leader smiled in the darkness.
Deputy Commissioner Marissa Mallet
. “That has a nice ring to it. I’m at