Page 69 of Queen of Sherwood

“I . . . don’t understand,” John said in a raspy tone. “Why would he help you?”

“I believe Sir Guy and Sheriff George are at odds. That Guy didn’t even know of the sex slaving operation, and once he learned, he decided to fight against it in the only way he knew how—to help me escape it. I think he saw it as nothing more than a distraction for George.”

“That doesn’t check out, little songbird,” Alan-a-Dale said, shaking his head. “Sir Guy has only ever been a ruthless, wicked man. He’s also been loyal, not one to subvert his superior.”

“Aye. Yet he’s a cunning man, too, right? We all know that. If he thinks what he’s doing is in George’s best interest . . . even if it’s helping me . . .”

I searched their eyes, and still saw the bafflement in each one of them. Only Marian, over their shoulders, didn’t seem too surprised. Oddly enough, she seemed . . . angry. Her neck was taut, hollowed.

“If it wasn’t for Sir Guy,” I explained, “I would be a slave in some depraved nobleman’s sex dungeon halfway across the world right now. I’m certain of it.”

“Why not just unlock the shackles himself?” Friar Tuck asked. “Why go through the trouble of attempting to free you, yet leaving it in your hands?”

I shivered, hugging my arms around my torso, recalling Guy’s words. “Because he’s addicted to the hunt, Tuck. The game, as he called it. And I’m the prey.”

A harsh grumble came from my men. They looked at each other, death and fury in their eyes. As if they wanted to storm Castle Nottingham and kill Sir Guy and Sheriff George on the spot.

“He couldn’t give me too much of an advantage,” I said. “Just enough to give me hope.”

“And because he didn’t want to show his hand to Sheriff George,” Will pointed out, stroking his smooth, sharp chin. He carded a hand through his curly hair. “It can’t become public that he undermined George’s authority, or he’d never live it down. He could very well end up in the same shackles Robin was in.”

I nodded slowly. “That sounds true, Will.”

“He still can’t be trusted,” John said, clearing his throat. His warning was weaker now, lacking the enthusiasm of earlier as he tried to reconcile everything I was saying.

“Of course he can’t,” I said. “I’m just telling you what happened. Why I think we need to trust him now. Not always.”

“Why?” Alan-a-Dale asked. “When it’s obvious he is searching for your capture and demise on his own terms? He essentially said it when he assisted your escape, love. From what I’m hearing, Guy had a specific interest in you, love. Not the other girls in that carriage. He couldn’t care less what happened to them. For whatever reason, he’s fixated on you.”

“I don’t think that’s the entire story, Alan. My instincts are telling me he didn’t want that auction or trade to happen. That he knew if I escaped, I was the best chance of the other girls getting out of there, too. That I wouldn’t be able to do it alone. Perhaps he wanted to see how hard I was willing to fight.”

Little John huffed. “Altruistic or not, a man like Guy of Gisborne can never be trusted. Even now, Robin. He is an opportunist. Right now, you are clearly his mark.”

“What’s the opportunity, then?” I pondered.

“To take care of his dirty work for him. He doesn’t want to get his hands scuffed, and thinks he can convince you to take out his perceived adversaries.” John thrust a thumb over his shoulder at Marian, regarding the note she still held.

“Maybe he’s right, in this case,” I muttered, bowing my head.

“What? How?” Friar Tuck asked incredulously.

I lifted my eyes to him. “Because I think I know who that message is talking about, Tuck. It’s talking about Bishop Sutton.”

Tuck’s body went rigid. Fear danced in his eyes for a split second before they smoldered darker. “We can’t know—”

“This is all too neat and tidy,” Will interrupted, shaking his head. He turned around and started pacing the tent, stealing everyone’s focus. Tapping his chin as he walked and turned, he continued. “Marian showing up here. Giving us information. Returning to Guy. Giving us more intelligence from him. Does he truly think he can control us with marionette strings?”

“The man is a handful of steps ahead of us, as always,” Alan muttered.

“Why would he want to help us with Bishop Sutton—or have anything to do with him?” John asked.

Marian cleared her throat. “Because of what I told you when I first arrived. Sutton headed the sex slaving operation.”

“I still don’t believe that, harlot,” Friar Tuck growled over his shoulder at her. “It’s hearsay.”

“You simply don’t believe it because you don’t want to, chaplain,” Marian replied. “Because it puts your entire faith in jeopardy. And because you have history with Bishop Sutton.”

“Aye, I’m not afraid to admit it,” Tuck answered, lifting his chin. “Sutton was one of my only allies when I needed one most in the priesthood. He vouched for me and kept me off the gallows.”

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