Page 163 of Queen of Sherwood

My eyes bulged. I dashed a look over. My face sank.

A small curl of her lip was all she gave me. A knowing smirk, with a sad tug to the corners of her eyes, before she faced Prince John up the hill.

“You are the one they call Robin Hood, woman? The whore queen of Sherwood Forest?” the prince asked.

Soldiers laughed and jeered, calling her every despicable name in the land.

Marian nodded and yelled over the din of sounds drowning her out. “Yes. I am Robin Hood!”

I was stunned still. I can’t let her take the blame—or the credit—for everything I’ve done. I just can’t let that—

Little John’s hand fell on my shoulder and squeezed. His huge, calming hand. The same one that consoled me after I killed my father. The same one that gutted a man for harming me, a few days after I’d met this behemoth.

He pulled me back with his strength, not allowing me to step forward. My other mates took hold, shielding my body by stepping in front of me.

Even if I didn’t want to allow Marian to take the blame, they would gladly do it. They would sacrifice the entire world if it meant protecting me, and that was exactly what they did now.

Prince John gave a small shrug, then curled a finger down the hill toward us. “Very well. Step forward, and the rest of you get out of my sight.”

My mates shuffled me into the carriage. I wanted so desperately to call out, but Will clasped a hand over my mouth to make sure I wouldn’t.

They were kidnapping me all over again.

Tears bit behind my eyes.

I hated Marian. She had betrayed us.

And yet . . . now she was trying to save us.

This is how she means to absolve herself of her sins.

I reached out to try and take Marian’s hand, so I could squeeze her palm, but she simply walked forward without seeing me. I was left grasping at air.

Once Marian was well enough away from us, she looked over her shoulder and gave us all an encouraging smile. “Thank you,” she muttered, before turning around to the soldiers descending the hill toward her.

With a snarl, Prince John yelled, “Seize the whore, and throw her in the darkest, dankest cell we have.”

Chapter 46

Robin

One Month Later

Istood in the crowded town square of Nottingham, hood over my face, scowl twisting my features. I was shoulder to shoulder with hundreds of citizens hungry for blood. My men were hidden within the swell of watchers, near me. Everyone faced the same direction: the raised gallows at the center of the square.

I recalled the riot in this very place, last time I’d been here. The riot had spilled out during the hanging of the men falsely accused as Merry Men. It had been a momentous day, leading to Dan the Dove’s death at the hands of Sir Guy, and Little John’s assault from Sheriff George. For months, the city wallowed as George tried to exert his authority over the masses and reclaim his position as lord.

A vast recovery effort in the months that followed had somewhat helped George warp the public memory of that botched execution, which had ended in so much destruction of property and trust.

I still shuddered every time the memory of that day came to mind.

Now, the square was packed even more than before. This had to be the most notorious execution the city had ever seen—the hanging of the “Whore Queen of the Merry Men.”

Another wrongly accused person. This one a woman. The heralds on their crates called her a witch to anyone who would listen as the throng made for the square. They called her a sorceress who cursed the hearts of the men following her, leading them by their cocks. Others called her a common whore—a slut of noble origins—who was never satisfied with the aristocracy at court.

I supposed that part was somewhat true.

Shopkeepers gave out redheaded dolls and memorabilia to passing children. Others gave out toy bows and padded arrows. Everyone was here to watch the most infamous criminal in Nottingham history finally meet her well-deserved end.

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