Page 46 of Princess of Thieves

I dig my fingers into the seat cushion, willing myself not to start crying again.

Because I see it. I can’t not see it. I’ve seen it ever since I came here. The bond between them is palpable, even in their frustration with each other. It’s brotherhood, or more—something deeper than blood. How else could you spend your life by someone’s side,riskyour life for the mission he sets out? How else could you agree to share everything,everything, and never resent each other? They fight, they push each other’s limits, but they never break. Not even when I arrived and threw a grenade into everything.

They found a way to stick together.

“Scarlet’s right,” Rob says, swallowing. “Without these guys I’d still be a fuckup. Or more of a fuckup,” he corrects himself. “Because—fuck.” He scrubs at his eyes, glances at the ceiling, blinks hard, but doesn’t cry. “Because I didn’t think I’d ever getthat. People who cared about me. And I definitely didn’t think I’d...damn.”

“What?”

He glances at me, eyes deep and cutting as emeralds.

“I thought I could just bury my shitty past and never have to deal with it. Maybe make up for it, karmically or whatever, by doing all this noble shit now, beyond the fact that I realized it’s actually the right thing to do. But damn, I never counted on you. I never counted on how you’d stop me in my tracks, make me think. And I know it was just a damn coincidence that you took off in that car and turned on that road, ended up stranded in my forest, my men finding you. But I’ll be goddamned if there wasn’t an element of fate in it, because if l’d gone the rest of my life without looking at what I did in the eye, l’d be one sorry son of a bitch, Maren. Worse off than I am now.”

He breathes out.

“And you know what? You don’t have to stay. You don’t even have to talk to me—not a single word after this. But I do want you to know that I’m glad you’re angry at me, and youshouldbe angry at me, because I was never angry enough at myself. It’s like...like I like to make everything everyone else’s problem. It’s the system that’s corrupt, it’s the greedy people bleeding everyone else dry. Can’t be me, right?” He gives a laugh, no humor in it. “But that’s a shitty way to see it. It’s a shitty, black-and-white way to look at the world, and it doesn’t matter if I’m on the good side if that’s my fuckin’ worldview. I don’t want to uphold that any more than I want the people of Sherwood to be crushed by some fat motherfucker in khakis with a badge on.

“So, I guess what I’m trying to say is, I am sorry. And I’m glad that I’m sorry. And I’m glad that you made me sorry. And I’m going to be sorry for the rest of my life, whether you forgive me or not, the same way I’m going to have an arrow hole in my shoulder sewn up all crooked.”

“Hey—” Will starts, but Rob ignores him.

“So that’s all.” He sucks his teeth. I hold my breath, waiting to see if he’ll say more. And he does.

“Or, no, not quite all. I mean, damn it, Maren, I’m only human.” He stops himself and smirks despite the seriousness of the situation.

“You know what I mean. I’m just...a simple man, let me put it that way. And seeing you here, looking so pretty, is absolutely killing me.” His voice breaks just a little. “And I don’t know what I could do to ever make you forgive me. I did my prison time, but I know that’s not enough. And I’m also a proud man, so I ain’t going to ask more than once. But if there’s anything I can do, anything to ever get you back, you gotta let me know.”

He pauses, his gaze steady. “Now, if you can.”

Chapter Thirteen

Isuck in a breath.

No one’s ever said anything like that to me before. People would barely give me the time of day back in Nottingham, let alone apologize. Let alone offer to do whatever I wanted.

And...goddammit.

I want to stand my ground. I want to be tough. I want to tell him to fuck off, go die for all I care, to shove his apology up his ass and rot in hell.

But another part of me, a bigger part of me, wants to let him be sorry. To let it be real. Let it be possible to...what?

To get better. To heal.

I clench my fist and bite the inside of my cheek so hard I taste blood.

Fuck, I don’t know.

It seems impossible. Like it’d take some literal magic to mend everything back to where it was.

Although literal magicisliterally real, I remind myself.

And all this while Rob is holding his gaze firm on me. Will, meanwhile, is darting looks from him to me to him again.

“I wouldn’t hold your breath, my friend,” he says after another long moment. “That does not look like the face of a woman in a forgiving mood.”

“No, I...” Well, he isn’t wrong. I’m not sure what kind of mood I’m in, except for an...electric one. Like there’s too much emotion for all the circuitry wired into me. I shake my head. “I just...Iwantto forgive you,” I admit, and I can’t resist adding, “you absolute piece of shit rich boy bastard. But—”

“But what?” Rob says. “You want to, so do it.” He flashes a grin just shy of truly cocky. “I told you I’d take my lumps. Whatever you want, from a slap on the wrist on up.”

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