Page 62 of Kings of Sherwood

But as soon as I say it, I kinda wish I hadn’t.

Because let’s hope fucking not.

Chapter Fifteen

Maren

When I wake up, I’m curled on the couch, a blanket over me and Tuck a few feet away in an armchair, tapping at his laptop. It’s a good few moments before he notices me, but when he does, he brightens.

“Hey.” He smiles, the screen reflecting off his glasses. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” I say on a yawn, stretching up to sit and blinking as I look around. “Where am I?”

“Home?” Tuck laughs. “You, er...came back in with LJ. We were hanging out until you fell asleep there around eleven. We didn’t want to wake you. You looked comfortable.”

I roll my neck back and forth. Not too bad, I guess, save the smarting on my knees from last night. My cheeks get hot as I make a mental note to heal those up as soon as I get a moment of privacy—not that anyone couldn’t guess what LJ and I were up to.

Tuck shuts his laptop. “I’m glad you’re up. What do you say to a date?”

I squint at him. “A date?”

“Well, sort of.” He licks his lips. “I, ah, was thinking about what you said last night. About Guy—well, about his mother, actually. How she was...weird. And, well, I couldn’t sleep last night, so I got up early to do some research, and...”

He spins the screen around so it’s facing me: a website.About, Our History, Visitors’ Guide...

“The Nottingham Historical Society?” I read out loud. “Um...”

“Oh, hang on.” Tuck peers around the screen, scrolls down a bit on the trackpad. “There you go.”

A banner readsNow on Display: A Social History of Nottingham’s Debutantes

Made possible by the bequest of Cecily Gisbourne

I frown, look up at Tuck for an explanation.

“It appears she left a lot of her personal effects to the historical society,” he says. “In her will. I found a press release about it. So now they’re doing this little...walk down memory lane thing, a mini-exhibition.” He shrugs. “Guess they don’t have a lot else to feature there. I figured...maybe we could check it out?” He lifts his eyebrows. “Could be nothing. Could be boring. But could be...”

“Youwouldbe the type to take a girl to a museum,” I tease him. Tuck blushes, scratches the back of his head.

“Ah, well, yeah, I guess—”

I cut him off.

“It’s a date.” I pause. “After some coffee.”

AFTER QUICKLY CONFIRMINGthere wasn’t anything else we were especially needed for that day—Rob and LJ wanted to map out a plan, and Will was doing an elaborate inventory of his various gadgets—Tuck and I head out through the woods. The roads are still trash, so the only car option is the sad beige Chrysler that Will and I left at the edge of the forest...but it is what it is. At least this time I get to be the one behind the wheel.

Tuck fills the drive into town with lots and lots of theorizing about the nature of the convergence in Sherwood and what it could mean relative to the Gisbourne bloodline.

“—astrological positions, or the relative magnetic fields, possibly even atmospheric pressure...all those different kinds of things can affect it,” he goes on as I signal to turn down the main street of Nottingham. “There’s a lot of weird timing that can affect whether or not the power manifests in any given person at any given time. So...”

“What?” I say, scanning around for a place to park. The Historical Society is a trim little brick building on a corner, with white shutters and a small placard out front. The only distinguishing feature between it and the other Jeffersonian buildings to the left and right. “You’re saying someone could, like, sort of game whether or not they have a shifter baby? Depending on...the zodiac or something?”

Tuck tips his head from side to side. “Not exactly. But also...something like that. I don’t really know exactly how much of it would even be perceptible. You’ve have to have done an insane amount of research—and that’s coming from me. Plus, of course, you’d have to—” He winces, shakes a little, makes a vague gesture. “You know. Line it up biologically, so to speak.”

“Sounds like a lot of work,” I say, cutting the wheel.

Tuck sighs, then goes wide-eyed as I parallel park us in two turns. Then grins, like he’s proud of me.

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