Page 4 of Kings of Sherwood

“This has nothing to do with me being a Yankee,” I grouse, “and everything to do with common sense.” I look around my bedroom, to the clean, calm comfort of all my things, the space I’d carefully arranged to feel like mine.

I don’t want to lose this. Not again.

Rob pauses his little toss-and-catch game. “How so?”

I sigh. “We haven’t even really contended with what we’ve done, Rob. Setting aside the literal blood on our hands”—I trynot to shudder, mind flashing to the gory melee at Gisbourne’s house—“we made a real mess of things around here.”

“And?” Rob’s eyes are on the paperweight again, tossing it gently and snatching it from the air with ease. Damn vulpine reflexes.

“And,” I say, exasperated, “you’re acting like we can just go back to...to normal. Like we’ll just settle back into our cat-and-mouse routine with the sheriff: we steal, they bitch about it, rinse, repeat. Don’t you get that it’s entirely different now?”

“Sure,” Rob says, still not looking at me.Toss. Catch. Toss.“We’ve got a few broken windows to patch up, for one thing. And they stole my fuckin’ Maserati.”

Toss. Catch. Toss.

That’s it. I fling myself out of bed, grab Rob by the wrist, and snatch the paperweight out of the air before he can catch it again.

“Quit it,” I grit out, “before I brain you with this goddamn thing.”

His pulse thuds, irritatingly steady and strong, under my fingers. I swallow, and let his wrist go.

“Damn,” Rob says, casual as ever even as I can see something darker skate across his eyes. “What’s your problem?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I say, setting the paperweight back on the desk where it belongs. “Maybe take something seriously for once in your fucking life? This isn’t some comic book where everything just resets to status quo after the big battle is over, Rob. This is real life. And...look, I don’t even care about this place—not like you,” I clarify, shrugging. “You know that. The only reason I’m here and not Rio de Janeiro or Bangkok or fuckingSiberiais because of you and your goddamn loyalty to this ever-loving backwater. Because, frankly, so long as we have each other, I don’t give a fuck where on earth we are. But you want to be here, so here we are. That’s the only reasonanyof usis here.” I spread my arms wide. “Okay. Fine. But for someone who claims to want to save Sherwood, you sure don’t seem to have a problem with ripping a big hole in the middle of it, do you? You’re perfectly content just knocking everything down like a goddamn tower of blocks and then scampering away. Well, now what? What’s everyone going todonow that you’ve played the hero?”

Rob opens his mouth, frowns, shuts it. Smiles.

“You’re cute when you’re angry, Scarlet.”

He chucks me lightly on the chin.

My face flushes, and I’m suddenly acutely aware that I’m wearing nothing but silk boxers and a scowl.

Goddamn you, Robin Locksley.

“I’m being fucking serious,” I mutter, folding my arms. Rob’s face goes still.

“No, I know.” He lets out a long sigh. “I just...shit, Scarlet, I ain’t the civic duty type. I don’t wanna get involved in all that.” He shifts his weight. “Besides, you take charge of something and then the target’s onyourback. From both sides. No thank you.”

God, the psychodrama is positively Shakespearean. I roll my eyes. “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown,” I murmur.

Rob gives me a quizzical look. “If you fuckin’ say so,” he says. “Anyway, look, I’ll...give it some thought, okay? Right now, all I care about is the fact that I’m here, you all are here, and two bedrooms away is a pretty lady sleeping peacefully with visions of sugarplums dancing in her head. That’s what matters, right?”

I snort, work my jaw.

He’s not wrong, though.

Dammit.

“Right,” I agree.

“Good.” He reaches out to ruffle my hair, but I dodge. “We’ll pick this up later, all right? Maybe get some sleep for now, yasilver fox.” He throws the bolster pillow back at me from where it’d glanced off his shoulder.

“Who you callingfox?” I grouse, but I catch the pillow as Rob heads for the door.

“Sweet dreams,” he calls. “Don’t let the—oh.”

He runs into something as he goes, and my heart stutters in my chest.

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