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Most everyone stared at the arrow, confused and concerned, Willa’s petulance momentarily forgotten.

But Grace knew something no one else did—not even her parents. And so, cold fear snaking down her spine, she immediately looked to the place from which the arrow had come and found her greatest fear standing tall on the roof of the Tuckers’ work shed, verdure cloak flicking wildly in the breeze, moonlight casting a cool glow about his person.

“No,” she whispered. That headstrong idiot.

She willed him to jump down and run away before anyone else saw him, but she hoped in vain.

Calls of excitement and shock split the night as people saw the man on the roof.

Grace watched in horror as the sheriff pointed at the rebel, his whole arm shaking with the anger clearly coursing through him.

“The Rogue!” the mayor cried.

“I see your lies. I know your illegal taxation. You can’t hide your tyranny in shadows any longer!” The Rogue’s declaration echoed in the silence for the space of a second.

“Don’t just stand there!” Mayor Nautin shouted. “Sheriff, get him!”

Finally, the Rogue jumped from the roof, disappearing behind the shed where no one could see him. Sheriff Clairmont was scrambling, pushing through the crowds to get to the man. But the people weren’t parting for him the way they had earlier. Some were too distracted. Others, Grace noticed, began grinning after the sheriff bumped into them.

The people were doing it on purpose.

Grace swallowed.

They were fighting back.

It should have made her happy. It was what she wanted, but she knew what it would mean. The mayor would increase taxes more than he’d been planning to. And even worse, he would start to patrol the forest for the Rogue, pushing the weakening wards even further.

And when they found him….

She couldn’t bear the thought. Her family, the fortress, the gold, the town, and James—everything important to her was in grave danger.

Oh, James. What have you done?

Chapter 12

“Grace.” Her mother and father were at her side. “Come on. We need to go.” She followed after her parents and Russell, who chatted excitedly about the Rogue.

“He’s an archer. Did you see that? He nearly got the mayor’s head!”

Grace felt her body moving despite the vague, distracted state of her mind. They made it to their manor in mere minutes—or was it an hour? Grace couldn’t tell. Time wasn’t quite right to her at the moment.

In the dining room, she slumped into a chair. Mother joined her as Father took on the impossible task of convincing Russell to settle down for sleep.

Mother stared at the table, hands clenched in tense fists, but Grace still saw the tremor she tried to hide.

“Mother?”

Grace’s mother shook her head. “Wait for your father.”

Guilt hardening like a peach pit in her stomach, Grace waited.

Father came within the hour. “He’s not asleep, but he’s in his room.”

“What do we do?” Mother asked.

“Do you have any clue who it might be?”

Mother shook her head. “The Ferrers. The Cohens. I don’t imagine Mrs. Milner is back. But a child?”