Page 87 of Queen of Sherwood

I was breathless, holding the girl so tight I might’ve crushed her tiny frame if I wasn’t careful.

I set her feet on the ground and she pouted up at me with tears in her big eyes.

“There, there, little lass,” I said, panting, trying to smile down at her but feeling sick to my stomach. I went to my knees to get to eye-level. “All safe now.”

Landon charged in behind me, just as breathless as I was and twice as muddy. “Kelly!” he panted, and slid to his knees to wrap her in a tight hug.

“What’s the matter, da?” the girl asked, hearing her father sniffle in the crook of her bony shoulder.

Landon held her at arm’s length. “How many times have I told you to stay with your mother when horses are riding down the road?”

They were still coming, too. So many riders, there had to have been forty of them. Marked clear as day in their Nottingham garb.

Over Kelly’s shoulder, I briefly locked eyes with Landon. I saw the relief and pain in them, and he gave me a tight, curt nod of thanks.

I returned the nod and sauntered away from the road, back toward the shadows and the awning I’d been hiding under.

Already with the start of a new song in my mind.

I KEPT CLOSE TO THE massive congregation of soldiers in the town square. An hour had passed, and they had essentially taken over the village for their own.

No one could tell them what to do. Their horses overfilled the Ravenshead stables, and many soldiers simply led their steeds by their bits through town, muddying the roads even more.

The drizzling stopped, the mist dissipated, and left in its wake was a group of unpleasant soldiers.

They didn’t listen to anyone. Like every soldier I’d ever met loyal to the king or an important nobleman, they carried themselves as if it was an affront even being here.

Men, women, and children tried to get out of their way as they traveled in packs of four and five through town. They filled the couple local taverns and started drinking.

The leaders spoke with Landon, but they didn’t listen to him or hear what he had to say—that Bishop Sutton had not passed through town. Landon had no idea where he was. No idea where the reported Templar Knights were, either.

Good. Landon is sticking to the plan. All it takes is one rat, though . . .

It made the situation tense.

The captain, whom I heard referred to as Sir Connor, pushed Landon out of the way and stormed past him to speak with his other soldiers.

I was nearby, back turned but listening as I rummaged through an empty barrel, trying to find something interesting about it.

“Sir Guy wouldn’t have been wrong about this,” Connor told his man. “Something is amiss.”

“Been raining some, sir. Maybe they got held back from a flooded road in the woods?”

Connor scoffed and shook his head. “Send half the unit back down the eastern road. We’re getting to the bottom of this.”

“Sir, shouldn’t we wait a bit? We made good time, and splitting our force—”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, soldier. Sir Guy of Gisborne entrusted me with the health and safety of Bishop Sutton of Ravenshead.”

“Then why wasn’t he riding with us, sir?”

Connor seethed and shoved the soldier, then marched past him. “Fucking idiot.”

I smiled as he passed me, my back still turned to him.

Sutton wasn’t here. Maid Marian hadn’t lied—the bishop must have taken the eastern road.

But the soldiers were getting rowdy, and they’d only been here less than an hour. There was plenty of night left. Plenty of time for them to make this aggravating situation even worse.

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