by Kekla Magoon
“Okay,” Laurel said. She was responsible for sending up the signal. She waited.
“Come on, come on,” Scarlet scolded herself. She pictured an MP tech staffer in a room somewhere receiving an intruder alert on his system. “Take that, lab boys,” she whispered, her fingers flying over the keys. “So close. Come on … Got it!”
Scarlet tapped her ear again. “MP weapons neutralized. Good to go now!”
“Roger,” said Key, from his spot in the crowd. He was well out of position by that point, but the girls could not tell from only his voice.
“Wilco,” said Laurel. “Signaling now.” She pulled a small device from her pocket and pressed the Play button.
Crack! BOOM!
The sound of huge thunder exploded from her fist.
“Whoa.” Laurel reeled back. The sound was much more deafening than she expected. She pressed the button again.
Crack! BOOM!
The workers knew what to do. They broke ranks, bursting from their quiet rows. They leaped toward the MPs.
The MPs were not expecting an attack. As one, they looked toward the sky at the sound of thunder. As one, they reached for their sidearms as the crowd of workers surged toward them. As one, they faltered as the little red lights on their weapons failed to turn green at their touch.
It was a melee. Hand-to-hand combat broke out between workers and MPs all across the square. The workers attempted to subdue the MPs and get up onstage to reach Crown and Mallet.
MPs pressed in to enclose the area where the thunderclap originated. But Laurel was long gone. She slipped through the crowd and made her way back to the rooftop. You can get out of anywhere if you’re small.
Mallet jumped down from the stage to help fight off the first wave of workers that approached the platform. She was a formidable fighter, even without a weapon.
Crown remained trapped on the stage, unable to get down the stairs due to the fighting. He stood there, next to the chained-up Loxleys.
Lucille Loxley worked her tongue until the gag pushed loose. “You can kill us, but the movement will only grow stronger,” she shouted. “You cannot kill the rebellion.”
Crown flinched at the sound of her voice, but he did not attempt to replace her gag. Such work was clearly beneath him. He watched Mallet beating down workers who tried to approach the stage. She and the MPs had his back. He didn’t need to worry.
Key moved closer to the stage, eyeing Crown all the while. He looked for a break in the crowd. When he found one, he leaped forward. He mounted the stage, carrying a real gun in his hand. An old-style gun, no handprint needed.
He fired into the air. The whole crowd paused in surprise. All the guns were supposed to be inactive.
“What are you doing?” Robyn held her earpiece as she spoke. She remained tucked at the center of the crowd, surrounded by workers who would fight to keep her safe.
Key didn’t answer. He advanced across the stage. “I’ve been waiting for this moment all my life,” he said to Crown. “You killed my mother. You threw me away, but I didn’t die. And now you will.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Sacrifice
Marissa Mallet registered two things at once: A gun, trained on Ignomus Crown, and a familiar-looking boy standing behind it.
Instinct took over.
Mallet leaped back onto the stage and stood between Crown and the threat. The boy flinched as she moved between him and his target.
In the moment, it felt only natural. Seconds later, her body flooded with a disturbing mix of fear and shame.
You threw me away. The boy’s words echoed through her.
Ignomus had cast her aside, too. Who was this boy, and why was he able to speak the truth of her heart so deeply?
“Get out of my way,” he said.
“You can’t win,” Mallet told him quietly. “You are surrounded.”
The boy stood trembling before her, but his gun arm remained distressingly firm. She could take him down with a lunge. She just might take a bullet in the process.
Mallet hesitated.
She was prepared to lay down her life for Ignomus Crown. It was her job. And yet, just as fully, she knew he didn’t deserve her sacrifice.
“Foolish boy,” Crown muttered. “You’ll never get to me.” His voice, so full of certainty, of cruelty, hit her harder than a bullet ever could. Her heart cracked. She could go down in a bloody heap, dying to defend him, and he wouldn’t think anything of it at all. Her throat clogged and her vision blurred.
“Step aside,” Key said, his gun now trained on Mallet. “It’s Crown I want.” He licked his lips nervously. This wasn’t going as planned. He hadn’t counted on the sheriff stepping in.
He had only three bullets. He’d already fired one, which now seemed reckless.
It was supposed to go quickly. Climb the stairs. Point the gun. Shoot.
He’d planned it in his head. Over and over. All night. And for months before that. Years, maybe.
But the trigger was taut. Pulling it into the air had shaken him. His arm felt weak, though his heart continued to scream for justice. For an end to all of this pain.
The girls were shouting into his earpiece. A cacophony. It blurred into static. There was his finger, not moving. His heart, bursting out of his body. And Crown, smiling through the horror before him.
“Did you ever wonder—” Key tried to speak, but his voice caught in some place invisible.
A blur of thoughts won his mind then. What it might have been like to live a different kind of life. To be loved from the beginning. To have everything, to live in a castle on a hill.
What it might have been like to look at the man across the stage and feel affection instead of rage. To feel taken in, instead of thrown out.
What if everything had been different?
“You can’t win,” the sheriff was saying. But it wasn’t her words that mattered. It was those bitter, cold eyes. The flash of recognition that didn’t fade into …
Key’s resolve returned. “Step aside,” he repeated.
To his amazement, the sheriff did.
Crown’s certainty faltered as his shield disappeared. His eyes flicked, shocked, toward Mallet, then trained back on Key.
“You’re the child?” Crown said. “You survived?”
Everything was his finger on the trigger. There was nothing else. There was no seeing himself in this cruel man’s eyes. No hope of being seen.
Key nodded. “Did you ever think about what would happen if I lived? If I ever found out who I really was?”
He was met with silence. Cold, bitter eyes. No sudden joy. No open arms. No change at all.
The most secret hope of his heart. Denied.
Key tightened his trigger finger. There was no going back.
Robyn drifted closer to the stage. What had gotten into Key? Now she saw his anger and threats from last night in a new light. He hadn’t been blowing off steam, or theorizing. He had wanted to literally kill Crown. Why?
You threw me away, he said. His voice trembled through the words, so he must have felt them deeply. But Crown cast everyone aside. What made Key’s situation so different?
“You killed my mother,” Key said. Robyn had long suspected that Key had lost his family in tragic circumstances. Was Crown directly to blame? That came as no surprise to Robyn.
Plenty of things about this moment did surprise her, though:
Key with a gun. A working gun.
The faltering of the fights around the square as everyone turned to look at the stage.
The surge of desperate hope in her own heart. The depth of her own desire to see Crown ended, right before her eyes.
And the sheriff. She faced off with Key, obviously poised to take him down. To protect Crown with her own body. But then something happened. For a moment, the sheriff’s resolve to protect the governor appeared to waver. Mallet’s gaze grew softer, less certain.
Most surprising of all, the sheriff stepped aside.
On the stage, Key held the gun on Crown.
The pause stretched out for an eternity.
From the side angle, Mallet dove for Key, knocking him to the floor. Her hand cupped his, as they went down, wrestling for control. The gun fell from Key’s hand. It slid across the stage. The governor bent and picked it up.
Crown took the gun in his hand with a triumphant smile. He fired it in the air and then pointed it immediately at Robyn’s parents. “We’re here for an execution, after all.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Surrender
Crown pointed the gun at Robyn’s father. “End this, or I’ll end them!”
Sacrifice. The word echoed in Robyn’s head. She had known it might come to this. She had known all along she might have to give them up for the good of the cause. She steeled herself.
“Going once …,” Crown shouted.
Sacrifice. Her parents wanted it this way. They preferred it this way. They would gladly give their lives to spare hers, and to mobilize a movement. Gladly? No. They would not be glad to die, of course. But glad to have lived and died with such meaning.
“Going twice …,”
Sacrifice. It meant something different to her now. It meant something more than giving up the things she loved. It meant giving of herself.
“Going three times … Last chance …” Crown drew out the finale, slowly raising the gun to Robert’s head.
Crown sighed. “Very well, then.” He pressed the gun harder against Robert’s temple. Her father closed his eyes.
“STOP!” Robyn screamed into the digital megaphone. “I’m coming. I’m coming.”
There was no other way. No chance she could stand by and watch her parents killed.
Sacrifice.
If nothing else, Sherwood would know that the girl they called Robyn Hoodlum could not let another person die in her place. That would have to be enough. It was all she had left to give.
Robyn charged toward the stage. The voices in her head clamored for attention, as her friends all shouted variations of “No, don’t do it!”
“Shh,” Robyn said. She rolled up onto the stage, forgoing the stairs.
Then it was just Key’s voice in her ear. Telling her all she needed to know.
“No, baby, no,” her mother cried.
“I can’t, Mom,” Robyn answered, never taking her eyes off Crown. “I can’t let him kill you.”
Crown’s face softened into his warped version of a smile. “I knew it.”
“You think you’re ahead of me?” Robyn told him. “You aren’t.”
“Guess again, hoodlum,” Crown answered.
“How many bullets do you think are left in that gun?” Robyn said. “I’ll give you a hint.”
Crown did not lower the weapon, but his eyes shifted left to right. “You think I’m a fool?” he said. “I lower this gun and you take me? Never going to happen.” He pivoted, turning the gun on Robyn instead of her father.
Robyn shrugged. “I’m saying, I know the person who loaded it. And I know there are not as many bullets in it as you think.”
One bullet, to be precise. Key had just told her.
“I’m sorry, Robyn,” Key whispered. “It was for him. I meant them for him.” At the other corner of the stage, Mallet held Key, strapping cuffs on him as they watched the scene unfold.
Crown looked nervous. “There are plenty of bullets,” he said. “Or you wouldn’t be standing there looking so scared.”
“I think you’re the one who should be scared,” Robyn answered. “The people have spoken, and we’ve voted you out!”
A cheer rang up from the crowd. But no one actually moved. Crown still had the gun trained on Robyn.
“The people have spoken,” Robyn cried again. She held the wooden arrow aloft. “You can shoot me now,” she told Crown. “You can cut me down in front of all these people. Claim the power that you so deeply desire. But you won’t make it off this stage. You won’t make it back to your car.”
Crown’s eyes shifted. The MP guns were still inactive, thanks to Scarlet. They would have to defend him hand-to-hand if the crowd surged forward again. And they no doubt would come for him the moment the hoodlum was dead.
Robyn flicked the switch that silenced the megaphone. “Or, you can be smart. Take me.” She stepped closer to him. She held out her arms. “I’m turning myself in.”
Merryan watched helplessly from within the car as Robyn surrendered to her uncle.
“Without me, you’ll be trapped in Sherwood,” Robyn told Crown. “They’ll let you go if I’m your prisoner. No one wants me harmed.”
Robyn placed her hands behind her head. From there she could still reach her earpiece.
High on the rooftop, Laurel leaned excitedly toward Scarlet. Robyn, too, heard what she whispered through their intercom.
“Mark this moment,” Crown announced to the square. “The hoodlum’s unconditional surrender.”
Unconditional?
“Not exactly,” Robyn shouted. “The deal was my parents go free.”
Crown smiled his oiliest smile. “The deal was, your parents live. Step toward me now.”
“Not until you release them! You cannot go back on your word.”
Crown edged closer to Robyn, the gun very much the object of focus. “You have a lot to learn about effective negotiations, my dear.”
He was right, and she knew it. She’d walked into his trap, and hope now was slim.
“Get him to the car,” Scarlet said into Robyn’s ear. “And I’ll see what I can do.”
“Very well,” Robyn said. “I’ve surrendered.”
“Walk,” he ordered her. She marched slowly toward him.
Robyn’s mother wept quiet tears as she passed. “Be strong, baby, we love you.”
“We love you,” her father echoed. It had been months since she’d seen him. He appeared gaunt and scruffy, with chapped lips and thick puffs of hair poking up from his head. “We’re proud of you.”
“I love you both, too,” Robyn answered. It was all she could do not to run over and embrace them. Crown would destroy her as soon as he got her away from the crowd. Her parents would be returned to prison. She had failed.
Behind her head, she held the Arrow of Truth in one hand. Tucker’s writing flashed through her mind, in one clear piece.
The shrines have burned. You want to have faith because your father has faith. But the world is not black and white. The answers aren’t written in curtains or texts. It’s you, in the world, who finds the answers.
Out of nowhere, Robyn understood this scribbled message. The moon lore was meant to be a guide, a comfort. She could cling to her arrow all she wanted. There were no easy answers.
No miracle was coming. She was entirely on her own.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
The Arrow of Truth
The lonely feeling pierced her suddenly, the way an Arrow of Truth actually might. Then the slow, helpless ache stretched out for a long minute after that. Robyn stood perfectly still at the center of the stage, with Crown’s gun trained on her.
The mass crowd movement had trapped him. A few minutes ago he had been unable to leave the stage to get to his car, but with Robyn as hostage, everything changed.
“It’s okay. Let him through,” Robyn said quietly. The crowd parted. Not for Crown, but for her.
The governor inched Robyn toward the motorcade. He kept the gun trained on her. They moved as one toward the car. “The car doors,” Laurel blurted again, excitedly. “They’re computerized!”
“I heard you,” Scarlet said. But from somewhere within the MP headquarters, Mallet’s lab techs were still fighting back against Scarlet’s gun-hacking efforts.
“Well?” Robyn whispered. “We’re almost there.”
“I’m in, but I can’t control both systems at once,” Scarlet cried. “It’s either the guns or the car doors. I have to let go of one.”
“You can do it,” Robyn answered. “It’s not for much longer
.” The workers were making their way through Crown’s perimeter of security.
“No, I literally can’t,” Scarlet said. “It’s two separate systems.”
They had almost reached the vehicle. Crown pivoted, keeping the gun trained on Robyn until he had Robyn pressed right up against the door of his vehicle.
Through the glass, Merryan stared horrified at the sight of her friend in trouble. She reached for the door handle, but Robyn shook her head quickly. “No!” she mouthed. Merryan pulled her hand back.
Crown pivoted until his back was against the door. He could reach behind him, open the door, and pull Robyn inside along with him. By keeping her between him and the crowd, he would never be exposed to danger.
“Robyn?” Scarlet asked. “What do you want me to do?”
“Get Crown,” Key shouted from the stage. “Whatever it takes.”
“We can get Crown this way,” Scarlet confirmed. “But once the guns are active, we’ll lose a lot of others in the process.”
Robyn considered the problem. Once Crown was in the protected vehicle, he was as good as safe. They’d lose the best chance they ever had to take him down.
The doors, or the guns? Risk losing Crown, or risk that all the MPs might start firing at will.
Robyn’s gaze landed on the stage. Sheriff Mallet stood completely still, watching the scene unfold.
To succeed in this journey you will be required to trust. Eveline’s words floated back to her. She gripped the arrow in her fist so tightly it practically vibrated.
Trust Mallet?
Wasn’t that a bridge too far? Mallet could not be trusted.
But then again, hadn’t Robyn thought that about everyone at one point? And here they were, working together. She trusted Scarlet to keep the car doors locked. She trusted Key when he said they were dealing with one bullet. She had trusted Merryan’s warning that Crown was coming, and all the advice Jeb had given them about the MPs. She trusted Laurel implicitly.
The Arrow of Truth, right now, was trust. And community. The realization shocked Robyn to the core. Here and now, she was the opposite of alone.