Page 26 of Queen of Sherwood

Still . . . enjoying the death of a man, no matter how much I hated him, is not something I’m used to feeling.

“We need to make a plan before we get back to Ravenshead,” I said. “Sir Charles will wonder where the hell Brandt is, if he hasn’t already. He’ll start snooping.”

“Aye. He might have even been involved in the assassination attempt, though I doubt it. He’s a pissant, no doubt, but I imagine Sir Charles still has a glint of chivalry in his old bones. Nothing like the younglings these days, always trying to prove themselves and do things their own way.”

I chuckled. “Are you talking about Brandt, or yourself?”

He snorted, smirking. “Fuck you, little thorn.”

I snickered, feeling somewhat like myself again. Trying to bury all the madness that just transpired, for one blessed moment.

Then I scratched my cheek and looked at my dark-haired, bright-eyed lover. “Any ideas what we do?”

“Aye. But you’re not going to like it.”

I MADE MY WAY TO THE small cabin, which Landon had gifted Sir Charles—begrudgingly—to conduct his business while we waited for the duel-that-would-never-happen to start.

I found it awful that Charles had been given William Elder’s house to use as an office, while things got sorted. The audacity was stunning, yet it was far enough from the rest of the village that I supposed it made sense. It was quiet here.

I still had a few minutes before the duel was set to begin, which meant I had to act quickly.

Little John and Tuck stood on either side of the door as I approached. The cabin was squat and tight compared to the vast expanse of the beehive farm outside it. Surely not up to the opulent standards of someone like Sir Charles. Still, I imagined it suited his purposes, whatever those might be.

“Where did you two run off to for so long?” John asked as I stood in front of him and Tuck.

A curious expression was on his face, and all I could do was thrown him a tight smile and say, “Later, love. Is the Templar in there?”

“Aye. Your brother, too. Doubt Sir Charles is seeing visitors right now.”

I made a show of glancing over both shoulders, then threw my arms out wide. “Who’s going to stop me?” The crowds had dispersed, and were starting to swell in the village square a quarter-mile down the hill. “It was his arrogance that had him bring only two knights here.”

“Speaking of. Where’s the young, brash one?”

I shrugged again, quickly darting my eyes away from John’s scrutinizing gaze. “Good question. Preparing, I suppose. Praying, perhaps?”

“I get the feeling he’s doing neither of those things.”

I wasn’t sure if I detected a hint of innuendo from John’s words, but I didn’t press. I simply walked past him and Tuck, into the cabin.

It was practically empty in the front room. Many of William Elder’s accoutrements had been taken away already, which gave me a pang of sadness. The sadness grew heavier when I looked at the wall and noticed the fine coat Will had brought his father months back, which William Elder had at first denied.

Seemed he’d gotten some use out of it after all.

Sir Charles sat at a small table in the center of the room, an open window behind him letting in a fresh breeze, with a narrow hall next to him that led to the cabin’s sleeping quarters.

Robert had himself perched in a corner of the room, arms crossed, leg propped up on the wall with his head bowed. His eyes looked closed, and I wondered if he was trying to catch some quick shuteye before the duel. We’d ridden all night to get here, after all.

The Templar Knight sat at the undersized table, scribbling with a quill. He had multiple parchments in front of him, and when he finished writing on one, he dipped his quill into an inkwell, moved the page aside, and started on the next one.

I pulled up a chair across from the bald, older man. “What are you working on?”

My presence—or perhaps my female voice—made his body tense. Head still bowed, he froze. Slowly, he raised his eyes, blinking at me with his bushy gray brows slightly raised.

Calmly, he sat back in his chair. Examined me, with a drilling gaze that made me uncomfortable, as if he thought it was beneath him to converse with a woman, but found me oddly amusing, like a toy or a dog.

“God’s work continues throughout the day,” he said in his deep voice, “despite the excitement of the duel ruffling the feathers of this village’s flock.”

“I thought the duel was going to decide ownership of this estate.”

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