Normally, this would be the part of a mission where Robin told himself not to relax. Getting in, unseen, to an enemy's stronghold was hardly easy. Just getting close enough to make the attempt without being captured or killed was an accomplishment. Castles had guards, guards who knew the land better than you did and knew what to look for if someone was trying to break in and how to stop them. That, after all, was the whole point of having guards in the first place.

Once you'd gotten past them, however, you tended to relax, to forget all the dangers still to come. That was what got thieves like Robin killed.

That wasn't a problem in the Dark Castle. Robin could feel eyes looking for him, and there was no sound. It wasn't just that there were none of the creaks and groans of old house. He heard nothing from outside, no birds or rustling of trees, not even a hint of a passing breeze. If it weren't for the sound of his own blood pounding in his ears, he'd have thought he'd gone deaf. He told himself he trusted the protections he'd been given, that he knew the Dark One's magic couldn't see him. Not if he was careful. Not if he avoided all the traps, the ones he'd been warned of—and the ones he hadn't.

It was like walking through a den of half-asleep monsters. None of them seemed to think he was worth the trouble—yet. They watched him with drowsy eyes. He felt their breath, warm and moist against his skin, and the damp flick of a tongue against his hand, getting an idle taste. All the while, he was supposed to walk on, as if he truly believed he had a chance of getting out alive.

He remembered the Wicked Witch's castle. She'd had guards and servants. There'd been spells around that place, too, but there was room for a person to walk down those halls if he was careful.

Here, he never forgot that he was an intruder. One wrong step, and the watching eyes that made the hair stand up on the back of his neck would see him—even if he did everything right, if the protection he'd been given faltered for one moment or he touched one spell he wasn't ready for, he was a dead man.

And Marian died with him, along with their child.

He reached the room called the great hall. This, he'd been told, was the easy part. The Dark One might not love visitors but he made allowances for the fools desperate enough to deal with him. This part of the castle might have its defenses, but the uninvited had been known to come this far and live.

But, this was also a place for the sorcerer to show off his wealth and power. Robin had had the place described to him in minute detail, though he'd been warned the trophies on display changed from time to time and not to let anything he saw unnerve him. Fear—too much of it—could get him killed as easily as carelessness.

That warning, at least, had been unnecessary. The Dark One must be in a mellow mood. There was nothing gruesome on display, no heads of his enemies or flayed skins of fools who had, say, broken into his castle to steal the Dark One's treasures. There were no goblets made out of skulls so he could drink to his dead foes. That didn't mean they weren't around someplace.

Not that it mattered. He'd seen what he'd come for.

Or half of what he'd come for. He reminded himself that three lives were in the balance: Marian's, their child's—and one other.

And that life—thousands depended on that life.

He would save those lives, if he could. But, first, he had to save Marian. He'd memorized every detail of the sketch he'd been shown and knew he was looking at the wand that would save his wife's life. He grabbed it from the small rack where it was displayed.

There was a deep growl behind him. Robin turned, pulling out his bow and fitting an arrow to it, but he saw nothing. Then, he felt teeth burying themselves in his leg.

He tried to kick it aside. Something small and ghost-white sailed away from him. At the same time, he heard an inhuman yowl. There was another creature, burning eyes and white as death. Purple smoke began to fill the room. Robin let the arrow go just as the Dark One himself appeared.

The Dark One's eyes went large. If it hadn't been impossible, Robin would have sworn he was afraid.

The Dark One seized the ghost-white creature and vanished, reappearing a moment later across the room.

The arrow turned and followed them.

The Dark One held the creature in front of him as the arrow hurtled at both of them. Then, moving at a speed Robin wouldn't have thought possible, he moved the creature aside. It plopped down on the floor as the arrow buried itself in the Dark One's chest.

The white beast yowled in pain, though the arrow hadn't touched it. It was a cat, Robin realized, and the creature that had buried its teeth in him was a dog—a dog small as a newborn babe.

Then, the cat changed. There was a little girl in its place. She wore a wide skirted pinafore, crazy-quilted from silks, lace, and velvets, a mix of sapphire and gold. Her blue eyes were wide with terror. Her yowl transformed into a child's scream.

The Dark One grabbed a handful of gold from the floor by his wheel and threw it at Robin. The long threads lengthened, becoming a net as they flew across the room. They hit against him with the force of a giant's fist, knocking him down as they wrapped and tied themselves around him.

The Dark One didn't notice, his attention on the child. He gave the little girl a weak smile. "Hey, now, don't cry," he said. "This? This is nothing." He touched the arrow, and it vanished in a puff of smoke. "See? Nothing to make a fret over." He picked her up and cradled her in his arms, murmuring reassurances to her.

That was when it hit Robin. A child. Robin had nearly shot a child. And not just any child. The child, the one he'd been sent for. Who else could she be?

The little dog had limped over. The Dark One patted it on the head, and the dog straightened up. Its limp vanished. It gave a happy yip.

"There, you see?" the Dark One said. Everything's better."

"Belle," Robin said. "She's Belle, the princess you stole."

The dog growled. The Dark One turned on Robin, his smile vanishing. "Reminding me of you existence, dearie? Unwise. I might end it." Then, he waved his fingers and it was Robin's turn to vanish.

There was not the faintest hint of light. He was lying on cold stone. The silence was more deafening than ever. If he hadn't still felt the Dark One's golden ropes around him, he might have wondered if he were dead. Thinking about what the Dark One might have in store for him, it might be better if he were.