Page 8 of Queen of Sherwood

“The best men,” I corrected, my smile growing crooked.

“Then it’s settled.” Robert pounded his fist on the table, and the mugs clattered, the soup—now cold—sloshing over the rims. “Sister, you will lead our alliance, because you will be taking on the most danger and the biggest burden. If you’re comfortable with it, that is.”

“I am.”

“Then you have our support whenever you need it. And until—if we combine our camps—we will send a delegate to your camp to act as a liaison between our groups.”

“That won’t be sustainable for long, Robert.”

“I know, sister. I suppose the next question is: Would you rather we come to you, or you come to us?”

Briggs cleared his throat and sat up. “I worry the Merry Men coming to our campsite will bring unwanted attention to us, Rob.”

Robert put a hand on his shoulder. “Brother, I’m afraid the days of avoiding attention may be over, regardless. If we are going into this alliance, then our lives will become even rockier than before. It’s a simple fact of the situation.”

Briggs took that in, sighed, and nodded grimly. He said nothing.

Robert looked at me, lifting his eyebrows with a questioning expression.

“Briggs is right, though,” I said, and the captain perked his head up. “Bringing the Oak Boys to us only puts you in needless danger. Keeping this position hidden is smart. So we will bring the Merry Men near here—close enough that we can liaise and offer support more efficiently—but we won’t impede on this specific camp. That way, the Oak Boys can remain veiled, which should benefit both of us. Does that work with everyone?”

I glanced around and earned nods from my side of the table, and then the four on the other side.

Bess gave me a devilish smile. “Look at her, leading the troops already.”

My cheeks flushed with color.

The tent flap opened and a man walked in.

I double-took, realizing I recognized the man from our camp. One of our best carriage drivers.

My brow furrowed. “Jamie?”

He held a small, rolled scroll in his hand. “Apologies, Robin. An urgent message for you.”

“You rode all the way here to relay it?” I stood from my seat and hurried over to him, then took the proffered note. Rolled it open and read it, as Little John and Friar Tuck crowded behind me.

A gasp caught in my throat.

“What is it, little hope?” John asked.

“Will Scarlet requests we ride to Ravenshead before returning to camp.”

Tuck snorted. “Requests? Scarlet doesn’t make requests”

“Well. True.” I squinted at the tiny handwriting. “He writes for us to drag our, erm, ‘sorry, lazy asses’ to Ravenshead.”

“That’s more like it,” Tuck said, to the sound of chuckling from the Oak Boys at the table.

“Why?” John asked, serious.

I looked up at him, eyebrows arched pityingly. “He says his father is dying, and he anticipates trouble.”

The laughing at the table stopped. Tuck groaned.

Little John rubbed his forehead with a heavy sigh of resignation. “There’s always fucking trouble where Will fucking Scarlet is concerned, isn’t there?”

I couldn’t argue with that.

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