The ropes bit into Oliver’s wrists, the coarse fibers pulling at skin already raw from previous restraints. His captor rode ahead, steady and confident in the saddle, posture straight as a bowstring. They didn’t so much as glance back at him—infuriating, considering how much he’d like to see that smug expression up close.

A little sway of the horse brought him alongside their flank, close enough for him to catch the faint scent of leather oil and steel—mixed with something warm and human beneath it. Not exactly the sort of detail a man should be noticing on his way to the chopping block, but Oliver had always had a talent for noticing the wrong things at the wrong time.

“You know,” he said, voice smooth as if they were sharing a tavern bench instead of a prisoner’s march, “you could’ve just asked me to come along. I’d have said yes. Well—probably. Depends on how you’d asked.”

Their gaze didn’t flicker. Still, Oliver kept his grin, the kind that made him look both guilty and entirely unrepentant.

“I’ve gotta hand it to you,” he continued, leaning just enough in the saddle to catch their profile. “The whole helpless-innocent routine? Brilliant. I’m usually the one pulling tricks like that. And I have to say… yours worked better than mine ever have. Guess I was distracted.”

The rope tugged tight as the horses shifted pace, jerking him slightly forward. He caught himself with a chuckle, though inside, the pressure in his chest reminded him what was at stake.

“Now here’s the thing,” he said, lowering his voice as if confiding a secret. “You’re going to get to that nice little town, hand me over, and the king’s men will do exactly what they’re paid to do. Which is a shame. Because once I’m gone, you’ll never know what you just threw away.”

The road dipped into a shaded stretch, the sunlight breaking into dappled gold on their hair, on the curve of their shoulder. Oliver let his words hang there, dangling like bait.

“I’m worth more alive than dead. Not in coin—though, admittedly, I’m no pauper when I’m not giving it away—but in… other ways. Let’s just say I’ve been told I’m very good company.”

His smile was the kind that could sell a starving man on a dinner of air.

“And before you think I’m just trying to wriggle out of this—well, I am. Obviously. But I’m also right. You’ve got sharp eyes, steady hands, and a spine like iron. You deserve better than running errands for a king who wouldn’t notice if you vanished tomorrow. Me? I notice things. I’d notice you.”

The forest thinned, and in the distance, rooftops pricked the horizon. Oliver leaned just enough to keep his voice in their ear without drawing suspicion from the odd passerby.

“Here’s a thought,” he murmured. “Untie me, and I’ll make it worth your while. No bounties, no gallows. Just you, me, and the kind of adventure songs are written about. You’re good at catching me—maybe you’d be better at keeping me.”

He sat back, letting the words sink in, the smirk never quite leaving his face despite the noose he could practically feel tightening in the distance.

The game wasn’t over—not yet.