Page 47 of Kings of Sherwood

Guilty because I’m—however indirectly—the reason there’s a bounty on Rob’s head.

Guilty because I was here cozy in front of a fire while three of them were out risking their necks.

So when I wake up alone, in my own room, where I’d chosen to sleep, it takes me a while to gather myself and go downstairs. But eventually, the smell of coffee and syrup is too strong to resist. I pull on a loaner hoodie—whose it is, I don’t even know—and head downstairs.

“Morning.” Tuck’s at the stove, every burner topped with a different frying pan, and I pad to his side first, taking both the kiss on the cheek and the mug he offers. “What’re you in the mood for? I’ve got...everything.”

“I’m...” I blink. “Chef’s choice.”

He nods. “You got it. Sit, sit.”

I turn to the table. LJ’s at one side, sipping black coffee. Will’s on the other, leaning back in a chair, hands behind his head and a glass of tomato juice—or possibly a Bloody Mary—half-drunk in front of him. And between them is Nick, white as a sheet and frozen rigid.

I hold back a smirk and sit across from them. “Rough night?” I ask.

“Not too bad,” Will answers. “Little tossing and turning, but an empty bed will do that to—”

“Notyou,” I say, aiming a kick at him under the table. I nod at Nick. “You okay?”

“M’fine,” he mumbles, nodding a few times.

“You’re not eating,” I point out.

He stares down at his plate.

“I told him it wasn’t poisoned,” Will puts in, leaning forward again. “But I suppose there’s no reason to trust me.”

“It’s not poisoned,” I tell Nick. “Trust me. And if it is, I can heal you.” I wiggle my fingers. “Okay?”

Nick’s eyes dart nervously to LJ, who has barely moved except to drain more of his coffee. “Okay,” he says.

He bites about three crumbs of toast off a slice and puts it back down.

“There they are.” Rob strides into the room, somehow back to his old self, wearing a gray-green button-down and a broad, almost mischievous grin. “The finest criminal crew in all of Sherwood.”

“Not a lot of competition there,” LJ mutters, sliding a glance at Nick. Nick puts down his toast again, chastened. I shoot LJ a look—come on, dude—but he just stares right back, the kind of stare that makes my stomach flip over, and not in a bad way.

“You’re dressed...well,” Will says, raising an eyebrow and lifting his glass. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Feeling fine. Because we’re back in business, baby.”

Will lets out a short, sharp exhale through his nose, as if this was exactly what hedidn’twant to hear, and rubs his temples.

Rob pulls out a chair, spins it, and sits on it backward. “Got it all planned out. We’re going into town.”

“Town?” LJ says.

“We?” Will says.

Rob nods. “Operations resume today.” He raps his knuckles on the table. “Ah, thank you.”

He accepts a cup of coffee from Tuck, who settles at my right, dropping a plate in front of me.

“Operations?” I fork up a sausage link. Maybe it’s the food, or maybe it’s the fact that Rob is a good mood—averygood mood—after what I thought was a disaster of a night, but I’m suddenly curious, and moderately less guilty.

“The things we, well, do around here,” Tuck says. “You know.” He raises his eyebrows.

“Or used to,” Will amends, “before you showed up. No offense.”

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