Page 85 of Kings of Sherwood

At first, I’m too confused—too shocked—to speak.

Did he pay off the hunters? The guys who grabbed me? A prisoner exchange? A life for a life?

No, I realize with a sudden stab of clarity. Those were his guys.

To getmehere.

Maybe not even Rob at all.

“Let me go,” I say. “Please, I’ve got—there’s nothing I can do for you. I won’t take you to them. I won’t give them up.”

My mind flashes to Guy. To his mother. To everything they were after.

“I won’t let you use me. To—to channel this place. My power is mine.”

The sheriff blinks his watery little eyes. “I beg your pardon?” he says, like I’ve just spoken out of turn at a dinner party.

Well, tough. I’m going for fucking broke here.

“I won’t do it,” I say. “I won’t be a piece in this scheme. I—I know all about it. What Guy was trying to do. Or what his mother was, anyway. And it’s wrong. I mean, not even illegal—it’s just—it’s perverse. It’s unnatural. These channels of power. The convergence—”

Something in the expression on his face, like I’m a TV he accidentally set to Spanish, makes me trail off.

“Miss Maren,” he says slowly, “I do not know what those boys in the woods have been givin’ you, or sayin’ to you, or doin’ to you...” He pauses. “But I can assure you that none of that...whatever they were makin’ up and fillin’ your head with.” He shakes his head. “It isn’t gonna matter to you anymore.”

Not going tomatter? I think.But that’s what this is allabout.

My heartbeat is squeezing in my throat.

“What did he promise you?” I snarl. “Guy. What was he gonna do?”

At this, the sheriff laughs, and I feel strangely...embarrassed. The way he’s laughing, on top of everything else.

“Pardon my French, butshit, Miss Maren. I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

He hooks a thumb in his belt loop.

“That man was one of many men who turn up with big thoughts and a big ol’ bank account to make ’em happen. Me? I’m just a sleepy little county sheriff tryin’ to look after my own. Do what’s right, by the right kind of people.” He rocks forward and back on his feet. “And I gotta say—the right kind of people? Is not the people you’ve been with.”

Realization trickles in slowly, like ice water down my back.

None of that mattered to him. Magic. Ley lines. Legacy. A convergence of supernatural power. Whatever.

The sheriff is just human. And humans aren’t that complicated.

Sex. Money. Power.

It’s as simple and as awful—as that.

A tear rolls down my cheek. Unbidden. Unwanted.

“You’ve really been making yourself a lot of headlines,” he goes on. “Never really thought you had it in you, if I’m bein’ completely honest.” He pauses, tips his forehead toward me. “The way your uncle talked about you, said you were notright...”

“I’mfine,” I manage, even though my chin is quivering. “I’ve never beennot right. It was—”

I cut myself off.

Why bother trying to explain? He doesn’t care.

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