Page 67 of Queen of Sherwood

She tilted her head at me.

“You went out of your way to help us, but more importantly, to help two lads in despair. Look how they wrestle on the ground, like children again. That, alone, is worth whatever ulterior motives you might have had.”

Marian put her hands on her hips. She studied me for a moment, and I wondered if she would accept my thanks.

Of course, I should have expected she wouldn’t.

“I’ll be damned,” she said haughtily, smirking. “Robin of Loxley might not be a horrible leader after all. I suppose I should expect nothing less after guiding these boys by their cocks all these months.”

“Christ, woman,” John mumbled, “just take the win.”

“I’m basking in it, big man,” Marian said. “Can’t you see the glow on my face?”

“Face looks muddy and tired to me,” Will said.

Marian scowled at him. Even I did. He was extra sullen today, and at times I felt that man needed a muzzle on him.

“So how long are you back for?” Tuck asked, frowning. “Until the next time you’re needed to backstab us?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, chaplain. I’m here as long as you need me.”

Tuck scoffed. “I highly doubt that. Robin, think of what—”

I raised a hand to stop him from continuing. “It might be foolish, but aren’t you the one who preaches forgiveness and penance, Friar Tuck? I’d say Marian has earned her penance. At least for a while.”

Tuck’s face went ruddy with shame. He opened his mouth to argue, but then decided not to and nodded. “You’re the chieftess, little heathen.”

“Aye. And I can see the gripes on your faces, boys. You think I’m foolish. Too trusting. Too naïve. That I shouldn’t let Madam Marian back into the fold.”

“Are we wrong?” Will asked.

“Probably not,” I said with a nervous chuckle. “But I do feel something has changed in her. I can sense it. Reuniting Jimmy with Tick was the smartest thing you could have done for yourself, Marian. And for us.”

She eyed me suspiciously.

“Only problem,” John cut in, “is now her handlers, whoever they are, know where we’re staying. Not moving is no longer an option. You should have stayed away, lass.”

Marian smiled at John’s threatening tone. “Nonsense, you big oaf. My handler already knew where you were staying. How else would I have found you the first time?”

I gasped. Shit. They could be on the way already, with soldiers. I glanced around at the faces of my men and saw they all agreed. A thread of fear connected each of us in our widened eyes, the words unsaid: We need to move!

“I don’t suppose you’d care to tell us who your superior is, while we’re unloading secrets, eh?” Alan-a-Dale asked.

Marian shrugged. “Suppose it makes no difference at this point. Unless you want to torture me for the information?”

Alan flapped a hand at her. “Nay, lass. You’d probably like that.”

Her eyes glittered with mischief, and she smiled her ruby-red lips. “You might be right.” She cleared her throat. “He has a message for you, in fact, Lady of Sherwood. I don’t know what to make of it. Maybe you will.”

I blinked hard, gulping past a dry throat. Even if she said the title sarcastically, “Lady of Sherwood” had a certain ring to it.

Marian reached between her cleavage, smashed together by her tight gown, and pulled out a snippet of parchment.

When she unraveled it, I leaned closer instinctively, conspiratorially, as did the men.

“He will take the path of the Templar to Ravenshead,” she read. Marian looked up at me, her fine crimson brow arched. “Any ideas?”

My mind whirled. Confusion hit me first, but it slowly melded into something like vague understanding. Someone who knows of what happened at Ravenshead. Otherwise why mention the Templar Knights at all? At the very least, someone with a strong suspicion.

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