Page 1 of Far From Sherwood Forest
Hooves thunder across the hard earth beneath me as the dark bay horse I stole from Prince John’s stables gallops through Sherwood Forest. My Merry Men ride alongside me, and the Sheriff and his officers are hot on our heels. Dirt kicks up behind us, and my mare snorts with every stride as I tug on her reins, urging her forward and directing her on a twisting path through the dense trees.
Little John taps his legs against his horse’s flanks, catching up until he’s riding next to me.
“What’s the plan here, Robin?” he asks, speaking loudly over the sound of hooves.
Truth be told, I didn’t have much of a plan when I decided we were going to visit Prince John’s castle today. It was less about raiding the royal treasury as usual and more about causing chaos and destruction.
Because apparently that’s how I grieve.
It’s been a fortnight since Marian was killed. Since I lost the woman I loved, the woman I was going to marry and spend theremainder of my life with.
So, yes, maybe I wanted to reciprocate pain with pain.
My men and I did what we do best, of course. Several sacks of gold and silver hang off the saddles of our horses, their high-pitched clanging and jangling harmonizing with the deep rumbling of hooves. But while my men went for the coin, I decided to fight because that’s all I wanted to do. I wanted to fight, to bleed. To kill. To feel something other than my sorrow.
I’m pretty sure that last arrow I shot hit the Sheriff’s cousin. Not that it matters. The Sheriff is as responsible as the rest of them for Marian’s death.
Peering over my shoulder, I check to see how close our pursuers are before turning back to John. “We split up. You and the others head west. I’ll take the north path.”
“Robin—”
“We all know it’s me they really want. Now go!”
He rolls his eyes and lets out an angry grunt as he pulls on his horse’s reins, directing it to take a left turn through a break in the trees. He signals to Alan, Will, and Tuck, and they follow him.
A moment later, I hear the Sheriff shout behind me, “After them! I’ve got Hood.”
Well, that didn’t go quite as planned.
Leaning forward, I tap my legs against my horse and keep riding through the thicker parts of the forest as my hood whips around my face in the wind. I didn’t give myself the name—that was a gift from the Sheriff—but it’s one I’ve worn proudly for nearly two years.
Something I haven’t told my men yet?
I’m ready to hang the hood up for good.
I haven’t felt this kind of grief since returning early from King Richard’s Crusade to find my father dead. While his death made me put the hood on, Marian’s makes me want to take it off.
My horse leaps over a fallen tree, and her graceful yet hard landing rattles my teeth and makes me painfully aware of every ache in my body. I took several hits back at the castle from the guards, and every time I squint my eyes, I can feel dried blood crack across my forehead and down my temple.
None of it compares to the agony that fills my broken heart.
The sounds of the Sheriff’s horse grow closer, and I swear I can feel its hot breath on my back with every violent snort. The next thing I know, a heavy body slams into me, knocking me off my horse as we both go crashing to the hard ground. The air is punched from my lungs as the Sheriff’s entire weight falls on top of me. Both our horses collide and stumble as they slow to a trot through the trees.
The Sheriff of Nottingham is not a small man. I’m not either. Neither one of us has anything on Little John, but the Sheriff does have several inches on me and a lot more muscle. Hard, heavy muscle.
And right now, the full weight of it all iscrushingme.
Despite being completely out of breath, I smirk up at him and barely manage not to choke on the strained words I force out.
“If you wanted me alone, Sheriff, all you had to do was say so.”
“Go to hell, Robin.”
“Only if you come with me, Henry.”
He raises himself up, thick thighs straddling my waist, and I finally suck air into my stinging lungs just before his fist connects with my face. My head makes solid contact with the hard ground beneath me, and fresh pain flares in my skull as though it’s been split in two. Warm, wet blood trickles from my nose and over my lips.
Even as little bursts of light obscure my vision, I fight back. Where Henry’s always had me in strength, I have him in speedand agility.
