Page 116 of Queen of Sherwood

“You . . . know?”

Marian nodded. “You may be a cutthroat bastard, Sir Guy, but I know a truth about you: It’s not weak women you have a soft spot for. It’s other bastards. Like you. While you’ve been watching Barry, I’ve been watching you.”

I blinked rapidly, trying to hide my shock but utterly failing. There was no way to account for this twist of fate, this conniving truth uttered from Marian’s full, ruby-red lips.

There was a chance she was lying. That could have explained it—explained how I had not caught on to her spying on me.

Yet her wicked grin told me she was speaking true, and positively relishing the stunned look on my face.

“If you know I haven’t held anything over you, Marian, and that your boy has been freed . . . why the fuck have you been helping me? Why come here at all?”

She shrugged easily again, understanding she held all the power and leverage in this situation.

She is not as weak-willed as I once believed. I am a fool for doubting her.

Her eyes darted from my face to the ground, and a slight flush came to her cheeks. Biting her lip, she smiled coyly—a foreign expression for the fiery woman. “I find your duplicity attractive, Sir Guy, if I’m being honest. Your independent mind. Perhaps it’s our forged toxicity I appreciate. Some part of me felt we could have made a good team, long term.” Her lustful eyes darkened. “If you’d only treated me with respect, as an equal.”

I tilted my head. “Therein lies the rub, woman. We aren’t equals. We never have been.”

My words did not affect her. She was beyond my jabs, it seemed. “Your eyes were never on me, were they?” she asked. “They’ve been on Robin Hood . . . and someone else you don’t want to admit.”

I ground my teeth together, pursing my lips. How dare she. Sighing, I strode to the bars once more, putting us close together—

And my hand lashed out through them before she could react. When I grabbed her chin roughly, she let out a sharp hiss, and I brought her forward, puckering her full lips inches from my face.

“You said it best yourself one time, Madam Marian. I go after the breakable ones. The meek, pliable little mice. But you? You’ve shown that you’re unbreakable.”

With fury behind her eyes, she slapped my hand away and backpedaled, rubbing her jaw. “If you think Robin of Loxley is meek and pliable, I’m afraid you don’t know her at all. Goodbye, Sir Guy.”

With that, she spun around and made for the hall.

I cleared my throat before she reached the tunnel leading out of my room. “Your son is in a good home, Marian.”

She froze. Her body went rigid, back facing me. I heard a sniffle. “Don’t speak of him,” she said in a raspy, low voice. “If you’re being honest and pride yourself on being fond of him, then don’t speak of little Barry any longer.”

“Very well. Then I’ll only say this: Your son is in a good home because I’ve made sure of it. Because I was a bastard too, once.” I let the words linger, then pressed my forehead to the bars. Though she didn’t turn to see the wretched look on my face, I hoped she could hear it in my voice. “Don’t fuck it up by disrupting his life trying to rescue or recover him. It will only cause you more pain. You must let the boy live, because his future is bright . . . without you.”

Maid Marian turned in the doorway, to face me. Her face was scrunched, rosy, and coiled for an attack. Her eyes glistened, yet she fought back the tears while in my presence. I knew they would fall once she was free from this room—free from my invasive presence.

Though I was only telling her the truth as I saw it, I expected a backlash. More fierce words and barbs. Insults, damning me to Hell, cursing me for all my rotten life. I had caused so much turmoil in Marian’s life, I deserved her ire in our closing moments together.

Instead, she reached into her bosom, between her breasts, and pulled something out.

She dropped it onto the uneven stone floor with a clank, then kicked it across the cobblestones.

It landed a foot in front of my bars. Within reach.

By the time I looked up from the object with bemused eyes, Marian was gone from the room.

With a sigh and a small headshake, I crouched.

I stuck my hand through the bars and snatched the key off the floor.

BEFORE EXITING THE jailhouse, I stopped at the front and looked down at the sleeping guard. His snoring was heavy, yet he was alive. Heavily sedated.

I grabbed the keys off his person, walked to the back room, and unlocked the safe. There, I found my sword and scabbard, and belted them to my hip.

Outside the jail was a cool, crisp night. The stars shone brightly without any cloud cover. I walked for a bit, enjoying my newfound freedom, thinking about Maid Marian and her words. Her allegiance, duplicity, and deceitfulness.

---