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Keep Moving On Part I

The guard raised his arm to end the messenger, who was writhing in pain on the ground. He had just fallen from the tree where he'd stashed the King's message. It was vital that Robin get that message, for if he didn't, well, the messenger didn't want to waste his last moments thinking about that. The guard let out a strangled cry as an arrow embedded itself into his chest, and he fingered it in a naive confusion.

"Don't you know it's rude to read other people's mail?" Allan's heart sunk as he heard Robin's voice coming from behind him. Allan turned to face him as he continued, "By the time you get close enough to use those swords, you'll be so full of arrows you'll look like hedgehogs." Marian circled around them, making it hard for Allan to keep an eye on both of them. The remaining guard took off through the woods, and Allan rolled his eyes at the spinelessness of the man while Robin let out a small laugh. "So, this is what Gisborne's dog's body does, is it?"

"I'm not his dog's body," Allan protested weakly, meeting Robin's eyes. "I'm his right hand man."

"Oh. I couldn't face myself in the morning if I was you," Robin told him with a glare to accompany his words. He'd lost a good outlaw to Allan; he wasn't about to loose any more.

"I count my money in the morning." Allan's indifferent answer made Robin's blood boil, but he refused to give Allan the satisfaction of seeing the effect his jab had.

"While you two are squabbling, there's a man in agony over there," Marian cut in pointedly.

"Run back to your master. Go on." Allan frowned, glancing between the two of them. There was something in there eyes that was different from the way they usually looked at him. There was still disgust, anger, distrust, more anger, but now there was something else. Something that if Allan didn't know any better would have said was pity. There was only one thing that could make them look like that.

"Where's Clara?" He spoke cautiously, and Robin's calm look dissipated and his face was twisted by too many different emotions. He managed to regain control and nodded to Marian, who pulled a small scroll out of her bag. She tossed it on the ground in front of Allan, who made no move to retrieve it.

"Pick it up," Robin ordered, and Allan's heart sunk deep into his shoes. No one moved. "I said, pick it up."

"Why? What is it?" Allan finally found his voice, looking down at the small, neatly-folded paper.

"Didn't anyone tell you?" Robin's lips twisted into a cruel smile, which clearly concealed rage. Allan glanced at Marian, but she avoided his gaze.

"Tell me what?" Allan was uneasy now, taking a step back from Robin's chilling smile.

"Clara's gone," He froze. Gone. What did Robin mean 'gone'? He couldn't mean- but that was too horrible to even think. "To the Holy Land," A small relief, but not much. She had left. He may never see her again. Never see Clara again. He looked down at the neat scrawl that spelled his name on the folded note. Gone. "She left with Carter." His whole body stiffened at that. Carter. Of course. He'd seen it at the castle, and now Robin was just confirming his fears. He felt a familiar throb pulse through his body, centering in his chest. In his heart. He slowly picked the letter up with shaking fingers and turned, continuing down the path without looking back. She was gone. It didn't matter anymore. Gone. She was Gone.

-Clara-

"Fall back!" My head snapped to the side as the order was given to retreat. The raid had been an ambush from the beginning; we were loosing more men by the second. I ran one of my swords through the Saracen's chest, killing him instantly. Before another could engage me, I turned and sprinted through the fighting, helping men where I could. The goal was to get as many Englishmen out of this as possible; the Lord knows we'd already lost enough. I slammed my foot into the gut of one Saracen, who had been gaining the upper hand in a combat against one of our younger recruits. Richard, I think. Kid had promise. I ended the Saracen quickly and shoved the twenty year old towards where the Englishmen were fleeing.

"Go!" I snapped at him, and he hesitated, glancing past me and then back at me. "That's an order!" I snapped at him, and he nodded in immediate understanding, bowing to my authority. He turned and bolted away. Good luck. He would have to find his own way out of the village. I refocused on the task at hand. I heard a cry and whirled around to see another of the younger recruits getting slashed across the stomach. I knew he was dead before the tip of the blade even reached his abdomen. I turned around as the scream was abruptly cut short.

I needed to find Carter. I scanned the familiar white and red capes of the crusaders but didn't see him. The burly Saracen caught me by surprise, and I barely had time to lift my swords to deflect his blow. Absorbing his blow sent me staggering slightly, and the man waisted no time in taking advantage of my momentary weakness. He went for a quick stab to the abdomen, but stopped short and stumbled backward with an arrow sticking out of his chest. There was no time to search for my rescuer; obviously whoever it was had a better handle on this situation than me.

"Fall back! Get out!" I yelled, but my voice was swallowed up by the deafening chaos unfolding around me. I slashed another Saracen in the gut, pushing another man towards the road out. "Go, get out of here!" I nearly tripped over the corpse of an englishmen. The ground was littered with them and Saracen bodies as well, though there were more Englishmen by far. Carter. I pushed that thought to the back of my mind and continued making my way through the fighting.

Where was he? God dammit Carter! Where the hell was he? The white and red capes were becoming fewer and farther between as men either retreated or were killed. Carter wasn't dead. He couldn't be dead. I lifted my blade to parry one blow while I stabbed the Saracen through the chest with my other blade. I stumbled on the leg of a fallen man and barely caught my balance. There was a ragged gasp from the ground, and my gaze snapped to the barely breathing man. He had been slashed on his side, which left an average chance of survival. Of course, there was no chance if I left him here. I gently flipped him over, keeping a sharp eye on my surroundings in case any Saracen got any ideas. My mouth dropped open as I took in the man's face.

"Marcus?" I questioned in a horrified shock and was answered with a pained groan. Marcus and I had become fast friends when Carter and I had joined two weeks ago. It had been three months since we had left Nottingham, and we had been instantly accepted into the King's Guard when we'd arrived. It almost felt as though I'd never left. I stowed my blades and grabbed Marcus' arm and slung it around my shoulders, quickly making my way to the retreating Englishmen. I passed Marcus to one of the older recruits. Adrien, I think. Or Aaron. Or something like that. "Take him back to camp. Make sure he get's properly taken care of."

"What about you?" In answer I drew a knife and threw it with deadly accuracy at a Saracen that had been battling with a younger Englishmen. This was supposed to have been an easy in and out raid. Not a full on battle. The King had sent the younger recruits in with a few seasoned soldiers. Namely me, Carter, Legrand, Marcus, Michael, and Christian. Now many of the recruits were dead and many more were fleeing for there lives.

"I'm going to get more men out. You go," He hesitated a moment, and I rolled my eyes. "Marcus' life is in your hands, and you're hesitating?" I raised an angry eyebrow, and the recruit vigorously shook his head. He turned and headed off while I turned back to cover his slow retreat. I drew two more knives and looked around for my next targets, figuring I'd be more help from afar than in close. I saw Legrand battling three Saracen's at once, dwarfing them with his huge size. Although he was big, he was out numbered. I threw one of my knives, killing the Saracen to the right, and throwing the other two of their game just enough for Legrand to take them out. He made his way over to me quickly, taking out anyone who got in his way.

"We need to get as many men out as we can!" I snapped quickly, no time for niceties.

"Michael is dead," My heart dropped at his words. "I saw it happen. Stabbed in the heart. I killed the demon that did it." He continued in his deep, gravelly voice. I gave a small nod, knowing I couldn't let my emotions get the better of me. I threw another knife, freeing a middle aged man that had been pinned by a Saracen.

"Marcus is injured, but I sent him off with an older recruit. He should be fine if he gets attention in time." Legrand nodded, knowing there was no guarantee. "Any sign of Carter or Christian?" I was unable to keep the hope out of my voice.

"I lost track of them as soon as we were ambushed." My heart sunk a bit, but I nodded anyways. Legrand swung his staff, knocking two Saracen soldiers out with one blow.

"Give it five minutes and then retreat. I don't care what is happening," I hurried on before he could protest. "We already lost Michael. We don't need to loose another Guard." Legrand hesitated before nodding.

"The same for you, Clara. Five minutes." I nodded as well before he ran back into battle, and I scanned the crowd again. I threw another knife that killed a Saracen that had been about to finish off a boy that couldn't have been older than eighteen. I made my way over to him and hauled him up by the shoulder, ignoring his hiss of pain.

"Can you walk?" I questioned and he shook his head, tears staining his cheeks, for his helmet had fallen off.

"M-my leg. I think it might be broken." Hopefully it wasn't. For his sake. And by the look of his arm it was dislocated. I passed him off to another man clad in a white and red cape. He nodded, not needing to be told what to do.

Four minutes. I stowed my knives; I only had five left, and I drew my blades again, throwing myself into battle with a cry. I slashed, dodged, parried. stabbed, cut, twirled, but every Saracen I defeated and every Englishman I saved seemed to sprout three more in their place. There was only two minutes left of my time, and I still hadn't found Carter or Christian. I couldn't leave without them, could I? No. No, I couldn't. I kneed a warrior hard in the groin, causing him to double over in pain. I then issued a hard blow to his face with the butt of my sword, which knocked him out cold. I pulled another soldier to his feet and shoved him towards the path. Reluctantly, I fell back, scanning the crowd one last time, hoping to catch a glimpse of Carter somewhere. No sign. I sheathed my blades and threw one last knife at a man who had been about to kill a younger recruit. The man went down without so much as a yelp of surprise.

I made my way over to him when he didn't rise on his own. Without speaking, I slung his arm over my shoulder and helped him out of the village. The trek back to camp was as painful as any I'd endured. I couldn't get Carter out of my head. He needed to be okay. I needed him to be okay. The man I was helping groaned loudly.

"Hang on, alright? We're almost there." I told him as reassuringly as I could. We both needed water desperately, for it was midday meaning the sun was as hot as ever. "Stay awake. The camp's right in front of us. Right here." In two minutes, which seemed like eternity, we were there. Two physicians came out and took the man from me, and I pushed them away as they tried to help me. Instead, I walked towards the King's tent, where I knew the Guard would want to know what had happened. I pushed my way in, and was promptly offered some water, which I accepted graciously. I fisted my hand and placed it over my heart, bowing low.

"My King," I formerly greeted him. He came towards me quickly and with purpose.

"What happened? It was supposed to be a quick raid! How has this happened?"

"I do not know. We were ambushed as soon as we entered the village. Who has come back? How is Marcus? Did he make it?" I stopped the flow of questions and took a deep breath.

"Marcus is being tended to by a physician. They think he'll be alright." I let out a breath of relief. "As for the others, you are the only one that has returned beside Marcus." At that moment, the tent curtain was pulled open and in walked Legrand. He bowed to the King in the same formal manner that I had.

"How is he?" Was the first question out of his mouth, glancing at me. I nodded in response, and he seemed to get the message. "Has any one else returned?" I shook my head, turning to the King.

"I wish permission to help the injured. There are more arriving each moment." King Richard shook his head.

"Denied. I need a full report from both of you. Now." He ordered, and I took the initiative.

"We entered the village and were immediately attacked by Saracen soldiers. I lost my horse early on, as I'm sure Legrand, Carter and the rest did as well. I fought beside Carter for a short while in the beginning."

A blunt force hit me from the side, sending me to the ground with my right foot still caught in the stirrup. The spooked horse reared up, and I acted quickly, drawing my knife and cutting the leather, freeing my foot. A man stood above me wit a sword raised, and I rolled to the side to avoid getting cut in half. Spinning my legs around, I kicked his feet out from under him and leapt to my feet. The Saracen let out a growl of frustration, and I slipped my knife back into my sleeve and unsheathed my double swords.

He was taller than me by at least half a meter, which was a lot considering I wasn't the shortest woman. I managed to block the first blow, but quickly found that that wouldn't be effective due to his superior strength. I kicked him hard in the stomach, but he just took a step back and barely grunted. I swallowed, knowing he was going to be tough to beat. We engaged in battle again; me mostly ducking and avoiding his blows, and him becoming annoyed with my kicks and evasions. Suddenly, the man stiffened and fell forward. I nearly had to dive to the side to avoid getting crushed. I looked at a grinning Carter as he yanked the blade out of the Saracen.

"Miss me?" He asked teasingly, and I grinned, but noticed something behind him.

"Duck," Was all I said, and Carter complied without question. I slashed the throat of the Saracen that was trying to sneak up on him to finish him off. Before I knew it we were fighting back to back, making a deadly team. Carter and I fought well together. I'd realized that since I'd first fought with him and Robin.

"Then he was gone. I don't remember exactly when, but I remember that one moment we were fighting back to back and the next he was gone." I finished the rest of the report as concisely as possible.

"Help!" My head snapped up. That was Christian. I looked pleadingly at the King, and he nodded, looking worried.

"Go." I ran out of the tent as Legrand began telling his report. I followed the shouts to the edge of camp.

"I need a physician! Help!" I froze as I took in the sight before me. Christian was staggering into camp barely dragging the limp figure of Carter beside him. One of Carter's arms was thrown over Christian's shoulders, but Christian had to grab Carter's wrist to keep it there. Christian's arm was around Carter's waist, struggling to keep him from falling onto the hot sand. Carter was slumped, and his feet dragged behind him in the sand. That wasn't what scared me. What scared me was the blood. There was so much blood. Carter's white cape was so completely stained with the scarlet color that you couldn't see the red cross anymore. Dirt and blood was smeared across his face and hands. The stuff was clotted in his hair, making him look like a corpse already.

"Carter!" I ran towards him and grabbed his face in my hands, rubbing my thumbs along his dirty cheeks. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and the other one was so caked in grime he probably wouldn't have been able to open it even if he was conscious. "Oh my God, what happened?" I hissed at Christian, grabbing Carter's other arm and gently placing it over my shoulders, taking some of the weight off of Christian.

"He saved my life," Christian croaked out, and I realized how bad off Christian looked. Two stretcher bearers came, and Christian helped me place Carter gently on the stretcher.

"Clara," Carter's whisper was so soft I almost missed it. I laced my fingers through his and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"I'm here," I smiled softly at him, but the smile was laced with worry.

"I'm sorry, M'Lady," One of the stretcher bearers addressed me. "The medicine tent is already filled; they can't have anyone going in." I opened my mouth to protest but thought better of it.

"It's bad, huh?" Carter murmured, letting out a small hiss of pain. I didn't even trying to smile this time as I gazed at him with untainted worry and fear.

"Just don't die okay?" Before I knew what I was doing I leaned down and briefly pressed my lips against his. I nodded at the surprised and embarrassed stretcher bearers, and they hurried off. I had kissed him! What had I been thinking? I really wasn't over… I swallowed hard. No thinking about him. Not even a name. Maybe this was good for me. I did need to move on after all. I had limited myself to three or four times a day usually. On bad days six or seven, but it was fleeting thoughts that I would shove to the back of my head. The worst was when I would dream about him. It was harder to shake off dreams. I shook my head to rid myself of those thoughts. Carter made them go away. When I was with him I felt more me then I had in a long time. I didn't feel so broken when I was with Carter. I turned back to where Christian was standing behind me. He was swaying on his feet and his eyes seemed to be going in and out of focus.

"Come on," I grabbed his arm with both of my hands and led him unsteadily towards his tent. I managed to reach it and lay him down in his makeshift bed. Since when did I become everybody's mother? I grabbed the water can from the ground and let him drink a little bit at a time until he gained strength and could do it by himself. "What happened?" I asked softly, wanting to know.

"I was cornered by at least ten of them. It was in an alley. I had been fighting one of them and he had led me into the alley. I was a dead man, and I knew it. I had killed two of them when one finally got in a good blow and knocked me into the wall. They would've killed me but Carter was there fighting beside me. He took on eight of them while I regained my wits. When I finally helped, they had all but killed him. He'd managed to kill five of them, and another two were wounded but not fatally. The eighth was kicking him and punching him. I killed him. I was weak. I should have-"

"No," I told him, looking down at my hands. "No, you weren't, Christian. Carter made his own choice to save you. And in the end, you saved Carter. You weren't weak." I frowned, glancing away from Christian, not sure if I should tell him.

"What?" I shook my head. "What? What is it?" He pressed. "Clara-"

"Michael's dead." I told him, looking at him sadly. He leaned his head back against his pillow. "Christian-"

"I'm fine." He snapped, cutting me off. They had been best friends since forever. They'd grown up together, fought together. They were practically brothers. "Marcus?" He asked with an edge of steel in his voice.

"Recovering. Legrand is untouched" I told him, getting up. "I should go. King Richard will be needing me." Christian didn't even seem to hear me; he was staring up at the ceiling to his tent. I hesitated by the exit to his tent.

"Thank you," I said, looking back at him in a rare moment of uncertainty. "For Carter." Then I let the curtain swing shut behind me and made my way back to the King's tent.

-Allan-

Allan-A-Dale watched the corners of the paper blacken and curl inward as the parchment burned. Holes formed and spread outward until there was nothing left but a pile of ash. He could burn the paper, but he couldn't burn the words. Going to the Holy Land. He grabbed the nearest object and threw it across the room where the glass box hit the wall and shattered loudly. Don't come looking for me. He had lost her. Really lost her. He may never see her again. Probably wouldn't see her again. I love you. He loved her. She loved him. Then why couldn't it work? Why had he betrayed the outlaws. They were the best thing that ever happened to him. She was the best thing that ever happened to him. You said when you first saw me you thought I was an angel. He hadn't been lying. He had thought she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. She was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He loved her. He loved her so much it hurt him.

I'm so sorry. Why? Why was she apologizing to him? Why would she leave him? They could have… no. There is no future. She had been right. She was right. There wasn't a future for them. He had ruined that. He ran his hands through his hair angrily. Why? He'd been so stupid. What? Did he think they'd just go off together? God, he'd been an idiot! And now he'd lost her for good. You need to find yourself. Didn't she know that she was it? Didn't she know that she was the only one who could have saved him. That could have found him again. She knew him better than anyone. She knew him. And she was gone. He'd forced her to leave. He'd hurt her. He'd hurt her trying to protect her in the only way he'd known how. Now he has no one. Maybe he deserves no one. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small silver ring and fingered the diamond in the center. She'd been about to marry him. He had no money. No property. No power. And she'd have married him.

"Allan!" There was a banging on the door causing Allan to jump. He quickly opened it to a furious Guy. "Come on, we are bringing the prisoner to the Sheriff." Will. They'd captured Will. Allan remembered quickly and shifted uneasily. He wasn't going to hang what is -or was- his best friend. He followed Guy to where the prisoners where on their knees in front of the sheriff.

"So that's what he had in his box. And the only place he could've left it is up that tree." Allan pieced together after Guy and the Sheriff had informed him of the news.

"You make me sick. You know that?" Will spoke to Allan without looking at him. "Betraying your old friends." Allan felt guilt claw up his stomach, but he pushed it back down. "Well, I hope you're enjoying it, Allan. I can see why Clara ran off-" Allan started forward threateningly but was grabbed by Guy and a guard. "I couldn't live with myself," Will continued.

"Oh, well, you won't have to for much longer, you see. The penalty for being in Robin Hood's gang is that!" The Sheriff kicked him in the stomach hard, causing Will to double over in pain.

"Right. Well, I'm glad I could've been of service. I think my work here is done." The Soothsayer spoke up, trying to get himself out of trouble."Can I go now?"

"You can go, of course," The Sheriff began, containing his rage. "With him to the gallows." He continued louder to the guards. "Hang them both! And feed their carcasses to the birds! Come along, Gisborne, no time to loose."

"No please! Have mercy don't let them do this to me!" The Soothsayer begged, grabbing Allan.

"Hey!" Allan yanked the Soothsayer off of him. He glanced down to realize his key was gone.

"I do comedy. I don't do tragedy! please?" The soothsayer begged.

"Well, seeing you swing will be comedy, won't it?" Allan slammed his fist into the Soothsayer's face hard before following the Sheriff and Gisborne to the door. The Soothsayer showed Will the key, and Will made eye contact with Allan. He was good. Will realized with a jolt. He was still good. Even after everything.

-Clara-

"I'm not backing down from a fight! I'm being sensible!" I snapped at Noah, who was looking infuriatingly pleased with himself.

"If we strike now they won't be expecting it!" He looked to King Richard for approval as I glared darkly at him.

"They won't be expecting it for a reason!" I countered, looking around the table. "It would be a massacre! More than half the recruits are dead or severely wounded, and the rest of them are recovering from minor wounds!"

"Oh boo-boo," I stared at him, trying to come up with a response to describe how I was feeling at that moment. "We know Carter is injured," Another one of the men laughed, and I fixed him with such a heated glare that he shut up mid laugh.

"If you want to take your men into an attack right now, then be my guest. But you won't get help from me." I looked around the table at the other men, my gaze finally falling on King Richard. "This is not wise, and quite frankly I don't think we could survive two slaughters in one day." I needed to make a name for myself again. A lot of the senior Guards respected me and listened to me, but the younger ones, such as Noah, didn't.

"Order the attack," The King told him. "If you think it's wise." He was wasting men's lives to teach this brute a lesson.

"My King-" I started heatedly.

"I've made my decision, Clarissa." He looked me in the eye, and I knew anything else I said would be an act of defiance towards his authority. "You're dismissed." I glanced at Noah.

"For God's sake, don't order that attack." I spoke calmly to him, not pleading and not ordering, just speaking. Then, I turned and strode out of the tent and to Carter's tent, where he was being tended to. I stopped short when I saw a shirtless Carter being tended to by two physicians. He had a long gash running down his side and his stomach was one huge black and blue mark. He was going to be sore for a while. His face was mostly untouched and in the hour that they'd had, the physicians had focused on stitching up the gash in his side and the deep one in his calf.

"You should not be in here," I tore my gaze from Carter's bruised and battered body to the man who had spoken.

"I shall do whatever I see fit. That said, what can I do to help?" I crouched down as they gave me a wet cloth, and I began rubbing the dirt and dried blood from his face. The process took longer than I thought it would, and I told the physicians they could go tend to the others. There were men who were dying; I could hear their screams even from here. I finished and took as seat beside Carter's bed.

"Clara," I leaned forward to take his hand.

"Hey," I smiled at him as he weakly squeezed my hand.

"What did I miss?" He joked softly. I didn't respond, knowing that lying would be worse than telling the truth. "What? Who did we loose?" He knew already. Well, he knew who was most likely. "It was Marcus, wasn't it?" I shook my head.

"Michael. It was Michael." My words were followed by a long silence that was finally broken by a messenger coming into the tent.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, M'Lady," The messenger began awkwardly, glancing between Carter and I. "Sir Noah is sending the attack." I jackknifed to my feet in shock and anger.

"What?" I snapped. "I told him…" Did I really expect him to listen to me? No. Of course not.

"They just left," I sank back into the chair and rested my face in my hands. Great. That bloody idiot.

"Another attack! So soon? That's ridiculous!" Carter was more awake now, and he made an attempt to sit up. I promptly pushed him back down, shaking my head at him.

"Killing yourself isn't going to do much good." I told him, standing again.

"Where are you going?" Carter questioned, and I knew I couldn't lie. Besides, Carter already knew the answer.

"Someone has to stop him," I resolved. That someone was me.

"No. It's going to be a massacre! Everyone is going to be slaughtered! You can't go into the attack; that's suicide!" He was glaring at me as I adjusted the strap of my double swords.

"Noah does not deserve to die for his stupidity," I reasoned, taking a breath and undoing my hair so I could braid it again. Really I was just stalling, for I didn't want to leave Carter.

"It's his choice to-"

"He's a good fighter, Carter. That's why he's in the King's Private Guard. He has to learn to rely on others. To trust them. To trust me. Even if I am a woman." I spoke the last line snootily causing Carter to snort a laugh. "I'll be back before you know it," I had barely looked at the exit when Carter spoke again.

"And then we can talk about how you kissed me?" I stopped short and turned a bit. There were a million things I could say to that. "I mean. I know it's hard to resist," I mock scoffed and rolled my eyes. In truth, I was trying very hard not to look at his incredible physique. Instead, I focused myself on his bright diamond blue eyes. I realized how much wine they'd given him to null the pain and almost laughed out loud.

"When I get back," Was all I said as I turned to go only to have Carter grab my wrist.

"Don't go. Get someone else to go." He was begging me now. Pleading, his diamond eyes gazing up into mine. "Get William. Or-"

"I'm the best suited for the job of saving men from themselves as I'm sure you recall." It was a bit of a low blow, but it got Carter to let go. I kissed his forehead and smiled softly at him. "I'll be fine." He grabbed the back of my neck with one hand and kissed me softly. I only froze in surprise as he let go, and I straightened numbly. I'd kissed him back. I had only froze after he had released me. I'd kissed him back.

"Just don't die okay?" He whispered, capturing my eyes with his. I squeezed his hand before exiting the tent hurriedly. Maybe this was the best way to get over….him. Just dive in head first.

"You're not coming, Christian," I didn't have to look back to know Christian was following me. I ignored his protests and instead turned and placed a hand on his chest, stopping him from continuing. "You're not thinking clearly. If you go out there now, you'll just get yourself killed." He glared at me with a white hot fury that I knew wasn't directed at me.

"They killed Michael." He snarled.

"No. Michael knew what he was getting into when he signed up for the King's Guard. He knew the risks. So do you. He didn't have someone to watch his back."

"Oh, and I do, do I?" I was taken aback by his pointed question.

"Yes! That's why I'm not letting you fight! I have your back." I was starting to get irritated as well now.

"Oh, sure, when you're not to busy watching Carter's!" I slammed both my palms into his chest, making him stumble, but quickly regain his footing.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snapped at him.

"I think you know exactly what it means. Where were you when Michael died? Looking for your-"

"Where were you?" I interrupted angrily. "Having to be rescued by Carter! Maybe if Carter hadn't been trying to save you he would've had time to save Michael!" I yelled, not caring that we were beginning to attract a crowd.

"Don't you dare pin Michael's death on me! If you would stop pining-" Pining?

"You arrogant pig!" I shoved him again. "You know what? Come. See if I care!" I whirled and stalked into the King's tent.

"My King," I spoke through clenched teeth, bowing with my fist over my heart. "I request permission to save Noah's sorry-" I cut myself off abruptly. I was speaking to the King. I looked at him to find an amused glint hiding in his stoic features. "I wish to send in extra people to help him,"

"You and Christian may go," I nodded and muttered a rigid thank you before storming out of camp with Christian following close behind. We made it on horseback in ten minutes and sure enough, Noah's men weren't doing well. It was chaos in the village. People were everywhere. Innocent people. Screaming and crying and running. I concentrated on finding Noah. There. By the back. I dismounted and ran, engaging in brief combat along the way. A Saracen was looming over Noah with his blade raised to finish it. I made it behind the Saracen and stabbed through his stomach, killing him.

"Come on." I held my hand out to him, and he accepted. "Call the retreat so we can regroup." The retreat was called and most of us got out intact. Shortest battle of my life. We wearily stumbled back into camp; most of the men just wanted to lie down and rest. Night was falling, and I figured I should see Carter before it completely darkens. I made my way over to his tent, but was stopped by a hand on my shoulder.

"Lady Clarissa," I turned around to see Noah. "I owe you my life, and that is not a debt I take lightly."

"Well it wasn't just me. You owe Christian your gratitude as well." Noah frowned, glancing around.

"Christian? He wasn't in the returning soldiers." My small smile dropped immediately, and I looked around almost desperately.

"Christian?" Oh my God. Where was that man? "Christian?" I yelled again. My heart dropped as I realized he could've easily been killed while I'd saved Noah. Or worse. He could have been captured. Tortured. "Christian!"