Albie did not understand the Sheriff. He was not a stupid man, Albie knew that for sure, he knew how to play the men around him well enough, but she could not understand how he consistently failed to catch Robin Hood. Hood was just one man, the Sheriff commanded an entire army. Hood was obviously sharp, but the Sheriff was rich. When presented with money or ideals, it was pretty obvious which the common man would pick. So why was the Sheriff having so much trouble? It interested Albie, but not enough for her to go poking her nose where it wasn't wanted, where it shouldn't be. So she kept to herself, she kept Sophie safe, and she watched with bated breath as Brandon danced around the Sheriff.
She knew Brandon was meeting with Hood, where else would be going at the dead of night, taking no horse so as not to attract attention. Albie would watch him from her window, torn between following him and raising the alarm. He was going to get caught. Suspicion would fall on Sophie and herself. Brandon was being selfish, selfish and reckless.
"Where are you going?" Albie hissed; the outline of Brandon's broad shoulders illuminated only by the dull light of the moon.
She had succumbed. She was too angry, too scared. Brandon had to be stopped before it was too late. She ambushed him, in her nightgown, in the corridor as he swept down to the courtyard. She was barefoot but the biting cold of the stone cobbles caused her no discomfort, her heart was beating too fast.
"Albie!" Brandon gasped, "what are you doing here? Get back to your room. What if someone sees you!"
"What if someone sees you?" Albie argued, "Brandon, I know, believe me I know, I understand what you are trying to do but –"
"No, Albie," Brandon said, raising a hand to stop her, "you don't know. You have no idea. This thing is bigger than I could ever have possibly imagined. The Sheriff is –"
Footsteps. Albie's hand, involuntarily, reached for Brandon's. He pulled her into the shadows. A figure appeared at the end of the corridor, striding towards them. Had the figure seen them? Brandon dragged Albie backwards, before silently opening the door to her bedroom and thrusting her inside. Albie stumbled as the door shut; Brandon remained on the other side. Albie pressed her ear to the door, tears and heavy breaths caught in her chest.
"Sir Guy," she heard Brandon say coolly.
Oh God. This was it, a matter of weeks in the castle, a matter of weeks under the scrutinising eye of authority and they had already been caught. She was not cut out for this, none of them were, not her, not Brandon, not Sophie. She should have listened to Harry, should have done what he asked. Even that would have been better than whatever fate awaited her now.
"Sir Brandon," Guy responded, Albie could sense the small smirk playing on his lips, "may I ask what you're doing out this late?"
"I was checking on Albie and Sophie."
"This late?"
"They are my charge," Brandon replied, "their safety is my responsibility."
"You don't think they are safe in Nottingham?"
"I don't think anyone is safe in Nottingham," Brandon said, "not with Robin Hood and his merry band of outlaws lurking around."
"Yes," Gisbourne agreed, "I heard about your altercation. Doesn't seem like Hood's style I have to say: rape."
"You know him well?"
"Well enough," Gisbourne conceded, "I know his type."
"And what's that?"
"He feeds on glory, what he calls honour. All in the name of his king of course."
"His king? Is Richard not your king, Sir Guy?"
Silence. Albie strained her ears, what was happening? Gisbourne laughed darkly.
"Nice try," Gisbourne replied finally, his voice low and threatening.
It made Albie gasp. Brandon seemed equally taken aback. He was silent. Footsteps. Gisbourne was leaving, at least Albie hoped he was. She could sense Brandon on the other side of the door, he was waiting, guarding until he was sure it was safe.
"Goodnight, Albie," Gisbourne whispered through the door.