Page 35 of Queen of Sherwood

“Do we?”

“Why are you here, Marian, if not to stir trouble? Give us a single reason to trust you.”

“I’ll give you a few,” Marian snapped back, counting off on her fingers. “Madam Marian’s Teahouse is not just any whorehouse—”

“Really? That’s what you’re calling Wilford now? How quaint.” Robin snorted incredulously.

Marian’s eyes flickered with fire, her defenses temporarily damaged. Tease her well-known duplicity as much as you wanted. But try to tarnish her reputation—her livelihood, even? She didn’t take kindly to that.

I felt this cat match was about to sprawl into pouncing lionesses, and my muscles tensed, ready to react at a moment’s notice.

“Because of the admitted opulence of your family estate, girl,” Marian said with a dip of her chin, “the Teahouse brings only the highest-tier clientele. The upper echelons of society: noblemen, wealthy knights, landowners, and traveling merchants. You’d be surprised at how much you can glean from those snooty bastards.”

Her eyes flashed with mischief, eyebrows bobbing with a smirk.

Robin took a moment to answer, caught off-guard. When lines formed in her forehead, she said, “You’re saying your brothel has become a hub for information?”

“Aye.” Marian waved her hand vaguely in the air. “Most of it is benign tattling: Which nobleman is sleeping with which; the everyday milieu of chattering penny-pinchers and schemers.”

“Then they fit right in with you.”

“Indeed. Well played.” Marian smiled at Robin, nodding deeper. “Yet some of the information is useful: trade routes and battle strategies; noblemen speaking with others about their plans and ambitions, while they’re getting their cocks sucked. Hell—while they’re sucking each other’s cocks. I’ve cultivated a rapport of secrecy and trust at my Teahouse, where nothing said inside leaves those walls. In theory.”

“In theory?”

Marian rested her hands on her hips. Realizing she had Robin somewhat entranced, she struck a fierce pose, pumping her wide hip out to the side. “That’s why I’m here, Robin. Because only I know how helpful my line of work can be for your people.”

Robin glanced over her shoulder at me and the rest of her mates, which was her first mistake. She needed to manage this situation on her own, and eyeing us for assistance only showed her weakness, in a time when Marian was showing strength.

“Why would you help us?” Robin asked at last.

It was an excellent question.

“You’ve only ever been a nuisance,” she continued, “ever since Little John expelled you from the band. Hell, before that, even.”

Marian’s smooth upper lip twitched. Evidently, she hated being reminded of what I’d done—how her reputation had been on the cusp of disaster back then.

Slowly, though, her twitching lip curled into a smirk. “Oh, you sweet, foolish girl. Little John did me a favor.”

Robin reeled, mouth opening and closing.

“Do you think I would have ever gotten to the place I am now as part of the Merry Men? I would have never climbed the social ranks of Nottingham scrounging for the scraps here. Being banished from the forest opened my eyes and made me think ambitiously for the first time, without having to claw after men who didn’t want me.” She faced me with a slight bow. “So, thank you for that, John.”

I flared my nostrils. She made another good point: Marian had found herself in a cushy, enviable position, all since being ousted from our band. Meanwhile, we had struggled to even survive.

This was what I had meant, and what we all knew, about Marian’s cunning. She could turn defeats into victories, failures into opportunities, and bad news into good.

Perhaps she would be useful to us, if she could really provide us with information about the goings-on in Nottingham.

Doubt rippled through me. Doubting myself and the strategy I had suggested about double-dealing with Maid Marian and feeding her false information.

Truth be told . . . I wasn’t sure we were clever enough to pull it off. Perhaps Robin was, but I was not too proud to admit when I was outmatched. On the battlefield, or tactically in the war room? I rarely met my better. But right now, Marian clearly had the upper hand.

“You haven’t told us what brought you crawling back,” Robin said, not letting my doubt cloud her judgment. I was proud of her for it. “If you have such a rumor mill at your disposal, why give it away for free—to us, of all people, when we have evidently treated you poorly?”

For the first time, Marian’s snarky attitude vanished. Her treacherous smile flipped into a frown, and she looked away. “Because I’ve discovered things that have made me uncomfortable. Believe me, I have agonized over coming here. Yet staying on the sidelines no longer seems like an option.”

“Because of what you’ve learned in Nottingham?” Robin pried.

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