Page 31 of Far From Sherwood Forest
His answer makes me grind my teeth, but I say nothing.
“Then again, I honestly kind of like it here. It’s a simple life. No evil princes. No vigilante justice. No sheriffs trying to hunt me down and kill me. Oh wait.” He laughs, but it quickly fades when he realizes I’m not going to join in. He sighs and continues. “It’s not one tragedy after another here. Here, they’re only nightmares.”
I scoff. “What nightmares could you possibly have?”
“I fought in King Richard’s Crusade, Henry. Did you forget about that? I came home to find my father dead and our estate seized. I could’ve easily blamed you for that, but I didn’t. I knew Prince John was pulling all the strings.”
“You don’t blame me?”
“No, I don’t.”
I push myself off the rock and finally turn around to see Robin standing a few yards away, leaning his back against a tree. He’s not in shorts this time, instead wearing jeans and a gray jacket. My boots crunch over dead leaves as I approach, stopping when I’m two feet in front of him.
I tilt my head, studying him. Judging by the innocent glow in his eyes, he doesn’t know. Hecouldn’tknow.
Or hewouldblame me.
And maybe that’s exactly what I need.
“Even though it was my sword that killed him?”
His face falls as his eyes widen. His Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow, but it doesn’t stop his voice from coming out dry and scratchy. “What?”
The corner of my mouth twitches. “You still want to talk through our shit?”
His chest rises and falls faster, a flush creeping into his cheeks. He shakes his head like he can stop it from being true.
Ivy really was right. Coming out here did help because now I can clearly see the answer to all my problems. Robin will hate me now, maybe nearly as much as I hate him. That awful attraction will become completely irrelevant. And if he wants to fight back? When and if I do get my revenge, it’ll make it all the more sweet.
Robin doesn’t speak. His jaw tightens. His hands curl into fists at his sides, like he’s still trying to hold on to whatever version of me he thought he knew. Or the one he had hoped I turned into.
When he hasn’t said anything in over a minute, clearly in shock, I reach up to pat him patronizingly on the cheek, twice, and not gently. The touch sends a bit of an electric charge through me that I ignore. Even as I practically slap him and cause his head to jerk, he barely flinches, his eyes staring at nothing, still in a state of trying to process the bomb I just dropped on him.
“Let me know when you’re ready for our next battle, Robin.”
I turn away from him and walk off through the trees. The heavy silence follows me until something breaks it—something big—moving just ahead.
I slow, eyes scanning the underbrush.
And then I see it.
A massive shape shifts from the shadows, and a low, rumbling growl vibrates through the air. Not ten paces away, the beast’s dark eyes lock on mine as I come face-to-face with a six hundred pound grizzly.
All this time, I thought my father died by some random sword or arrow of one of Prince John’s men. All I knew was that a battle had taken place at our Locksley estate, and my father was killed for his unwavering loyalty to the king.
I knew the Sheriff had been there, but I didn’t know my father died byhisblade.
I lean back against the tree, giving it my weight as I remain frozen, stuck trying to figure out what to do from here. Wondering if I should let this change things.
Then a harsh roar cuts through the trees and crashes into the chaos of my thoughts. They break, falling apart and making way for panic.
I push myself off the tree and turn in the direction Henry disappeared. My feet are heavy as I follow his trail until I see him standing a few yards away, his back to me, his body motionless.
When I peer ahead of him, I see the grizzly that he’s staring down, saliva dripping from its terrifyingly huge canines.
A fuckinggrizzly bear? There aren’t supposed to be grizzliesin Colorado.
But that’s the least of my concerns right now.
