Page 83 of Queen of Sherwood

Fast as a fox, Will Scarlet wrapped his arm around the man’s neck. The hamstrung soldier stabbed awkwardly, off-balance, but Will had a fleshy shield in front of him now and the guard accidentally stabbed into his own comrade’s chest.

He wailed after seeing what he’d done in the darkness. He hesitated, stutter-stepping.

Then I pulled back on my bowstring, pushed out from the foliage onto the edge of the road, and launched an arrow point-blank into the back of the guards’ neck.

I didn’t stay to watch him crumple to the ground, dead. I was already spinning toward the carriages—

“There! That stature—must be the woman!” one of the soldiers in the ring yelled, pointing in my direction.

My heart flipped in my chest, stomach dropping.

The guards advanced toward me in a shield wall formation, approaching Little John and the few Merry Men beside him, including Griff and Jamie.

So that is what they’ve been waiting for! Me to show my face. I was a fool believing I was just the same as everyone else here. The hood might’ve hidden my face, but my wider hips, thinner waist, and feminine stature could never hide my true nature. By now, everyone knew the Merry Men were led by a woman. So was it that much of a surprise they were trying to target me?

Cut off the head of the snake, and you kill the entire body. At least in their minds.

As they approached, Merry Men roared and surrounded me in a bubble. Robert, Briggs, and his group came from the other side of the road, rounding the first carriage and slicing down a wayward guard as they moved. Will came in from behind me, while Friar Tuck had finished with his battle at the rear and charged from the enemies’ backs.

We had them sandwiched between three forces, yet they only focused on me.

It was madness.

So much for getting out of this with as little bloodshed as possible!

I shot one, two, three more arrows—

Then I flung my bow down as the arrows bounced harmlessly off shields and armor. I drew my sword and the tiny buckler at my left hip to raise as a wrist-shield.

Little John stepped in front of me with a bellow that made the leaves on the trees shiver. He flexed his body, seeming to grow to an absurd size in front of me.

The approaching soldiers hesitated.

John flipped and wheeled his staff around in daring circles, keeping everyone at bay.

Will floated in from the side, unbeknownst to everyone, and his swords sang their song of death. They whirled and cut into the sides of the shield wall.

The guards stuttered more, trying to focus on both Will’s destruction and John’s intimidation.

Then Robert and his men laid into the other side on the opposite side of the road, while Tuck came in from behind and punched a man in the goddamn back of the neck, flattening him with a single well-placed strike.

The shield wall broke quickly. There was simply too much to focus on, to where no one could focus on a damn thing.

It was every man for himself, which was exactly where we wanted them.

One soldier managed to push through John’s guard and charge at me. He likely suspected I’d be an easy target because I was a woman.

My blade sang in the same way Will’s did. He had taught me well in the past months between our nighttime fornicating and daytime strategizing sessions.

I swung my blade left to right, keeping the guard away, and he backpedaled when he realized I was faster and more skilled than him.

I charged, giving him no quarter, closing the gap in one stride.

He backed up into Little John, face aghast with fear.

John felt him, spun, and wrapped a thick bicep around the smaller man’s neck.

He squeezed. Eyes bulged. Sword and shield dropped as the man’s hands came to grasp at John’s arm, feet kicking wildly, face turning red and purple.

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