MARIAN NEVER liked being surrounded by people. It was something she could manage with a certain level of grace, of course, and something that was expected of her almost daily, but she didn’t care for it. Unfortunately dinner with the king usually meant a large number, and that night was no different. The banquet was moved from the king’s private dining room to one of the smaller halls, and even then, people were spilling out the doors when Marian was escorted in by one of the king’s men. Luckily for her, the first person who caught sight of her was Johnny, and he moved to intercept her, a crooked smile stretched across his face.
“Marian Banner. Look at you, all grown up. Of course it’s Lady Marian now, isn’t it?”
“Don’t you dare stand on ceremony with me, Johnny Little,” Marian said, coming to stand in front of him. “It’s Marian.”
“I’m not sure that’s decent, my lady,” Johnny said.
“It’s what I would prefer. All this ‘my lady this,’ ‘my lady that,’ you hardly know who anyone is speaking to. And I certainly won’t have it from you.”
Johnny laughed, his eyes twinkling.
“You look well,” Marian went on. His face and neck were freshly washed and his hair tied back. He had scrubbed up nicely, though dressed in a tunic that was a just a shade too small. That was easily fixed. Marian would have half a dozen new ones sent to him tomorrow. She grinned and poked his cheek, where a patch of stubble caught the candlelight. How strange, seeing him like this. He looked like a man, but Marian had the strangest feeling that if she challenged him to a footrace, he’d shove her into the nearest mud puddle. “How were the Trials today?”
“Brutal. There’s not a bit of me that doesn’t hurt. If I sat down, I don’t think I should ever get back up again.”
“Oh dear. Are you to eat standing up, then?”
“I fear I might have to. But first”—Johnny held out his arm—“allow me to escort you to your seat at the head table.”
“Oh,” Marian said. “I’ll happily take your arm, but I’m not sitting with His Majesty this evening.”
Johnny’s brow knit together. “You’re not?”
“No, of course not. I already sat with him at the Trials today. It would be untoward for him to pay any further attention to me today.”
“Is that so?” Johnny asked.
“Of course it is.”
“It’s just—I heard several of the other men speaking of it today.”
“Of me?”
“Why wouldn’t they?” Johnny asked.
“Why on earth would they?” The women constantly nattering on behind her back, Marian was used to. That the men were doing it was another idea altogether.
“They said His Majesty aims to marry you.”
Marian burst into laughter. “Marry me? Are you serious?”
“Well, why wouldn’t he want to marry you? You’re… well.” His face turned red, and he flapped one huge hand at Marian, then rubbed it awkwardly over the back of his neck. “You’re… beautiful. And a dead mark with a slingshot, if I remember correctly.”
“It’s been many, many years since I’ve tried to take a turkey out with a rock. And you”—she nudged him with her hip—“Johnny Little, didn’t have to look quite so uncomfortable when you called me beautiful.”
He shrugged his big shoulders. “Honestly, I’d rather you were fat.”
The others standing nearby were watching them now. Johnny would be the talk of the court tomorrow. “Is that so?”
“It is. Seems easier, somehow. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about….” He jerked his head toward the head table, where King John’s throne sat. “I could see you married off to a nice farmer with a herd of sheep to drive you mad.”
“I’ve no desire to be married off to some sheep farmer, but you don’t have to worry about it either way. He’s a king, Johnny. Do you have any idea how politically unhelpful a marriage to me would be? His Majesty may call me a lady, but it doesn’t change the fact I’m nothing more than a pretty girl of lower birth. And kings don’t marry girls just because they’re pretty.”
“Beautiful,” Johnny said. He offered Marian his hand.
Marian smiled. “Beautiful, then.”
The rumblings of the people gathered nearby intensified. It would seem strange, of course, for so new a man at court—especially one who had not grown up in Nottingham—to be so familiar with the king’s ward, but Marian didn’t pay their curious glances any mind. Let them have something else to gossip about that wasn’t her latest gown or when John would turn his fancy to a more appropriately suited lady—namely one of their own daughters. Besides, if Johnny was a curiosity, he was more likely to gain popularity, and more likely to stay put at court.
The unfortunate thing about Johnny knowing nothing of court was that he didn’t know whom to grant a wide berth, and he steered Marian directly toward Lady Charlotte and Lady Lillian. By the time Marian realized where they were going, Charlotte had already caught sight of them.
“Brace yourself,” Marian muttered. “Lady Charlotte! Lady Lillian. How lovely you both look.”
“Marian, darling.” Charlotte kissed the air beside Marian’s cheek. “How kind of you to say. I hardly feel put together at all. Such late notice, you know.” She patted the elaborate twists and braids piled upon her head. Such a style would have taken Lucy an entire day and required her to grow three extra hands. “Of course Lillian always looks lovely, doesn’t she?”
“And never more so than tonight. Lillian.”
“Marian,” Lillian replied with a regal dip of her head.
Marian intended that to be the whole of it. She had not planned on introducing Johnny to Charlotte or Lillian and thereby being forced to further endure their company, but when she tried to turn away, Johnny stayed rooted to the spot. It was like trying to walk while tethered to a tree.
Marian looked up.
Johnny was staring, wide-eyed, his mouth slightly agape, his cheeks pink with color. He looked as senseless as a newborn foal.
Marian groaned. “Oh no.”
“What’s that?” Lady Charlotte asked, turning her sharp gaze on Marian.
“Forgive me, Lady Charlotte. It’s only that I realized I’d failed to make proper introductions. John, this is Lady Charlotte of Cannock and her daughter, Lillian. Lady Charlotte, Lady Lillian, this is John Little of Abyglen.”
“Enchanted,” Lillian said. She offered Johnny her hand, and he hastened to stoop and kiss it.
“As am I, Lady Lillian.”
The trumpets sounded then, and Marian was glad of it. She tightened her grip on Johnny’s elbow and, with a short nod to Charlotte and Lillian, hauled him away.
“Don’t even think on it, Johnny. Those two are only after money or titles, and you haven’t either.”
“Yet.” Johnny threw a glance over his shoulder.
“King John, our most honored and noble king!”
Perhaps Marian shouldn’t have been surprised to see Robin being escorted into the banquet hall by the king—he did love to give the court something to rumble about—but she was. Shocked, even. She sat down on the very cold, very hard chair Johnny shoved under her.
“Marian?”
“I’m fine,” she said quickly. “I felt a little light-headed, that’s all.”
“You look a bit pale.”
“I’m quite all right.” She assembled a smile on her face. “See?”
Johnny hummed and took the seat next to her. Now that the king had seated himself, Robin at his right hand, everyone else began taking seats as well. Sir Alane and his wife, Lady Nina, took the seats across from Marian and Johnny, and since Sir Alane had been at the Trials, he was able to make introductions, leaving Marian to watch the head table—and Robin.
She looked quite fine, of course. No one, not even someone as unusual as Robin, sat at the king’s table without dressing in their finest. Robin wore a mossy-green dress with a fine cut and beautiful embroidery across the bodice. Even Lucy wouldn’t have been able to find fault in it. She wore no jewels—she probably didn’t own any—but they wouldn’t have suited her anyway. In fact, Marian felt suddenly self-conscious about the glittering stones sewn into the bodice of her own gown and clasped around her throat. They felt too obvious, somehow. Obvious and gaudy.
“Is it him that has you breathing so hard?” Johnny asked, his voice lowered as he leaned over to fill her goblet. “Or is it her?”
Marian snatched up her goblet and drained it. It went down sickly-sweet and thick. She winced; if she wasn’t more careful, she really was going to be light-headed. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Johnny grinned. “No?”
Marian couldn’t think of what to say that wouldn’t incriminate her. For a long moment, she said nothing.
“You know,” Johnny went on, “we were sparring today, and then she saw you with him and she nearly put a blade through my lung. I thought it was because she’d seen His Majesty, but now I wonder if it wasn’t because she’d seen you.”
She was probably going to put her fingernails through her palm at this rate. Marian forced her hands to unclench. “She was trying to impress the king, God save him.”
Johnny glanced at her sidelong. “Perhaps.”
Marian wasn’t reassured. “Johnny—”
“I used to speak of you, you know. Once some time had passed, and thinking of Abyglen didn’t make me….” He swallowed hard. “Well, anyway. I used to speak of you. Her parents knew you, and it was the only connection I had to my past. Robin never asked me about you, but when I would tell stories, when I would talk of you…. It wasn’t the king she was looking at.”
Just then Robin leaned over and whispered something to King John. He leaned nearer to her, offering her his ear. After listening for a moment, he nodded, turning and smiling broadly at her. It wasn’t a leer, but Marian wished he wouldn’t look at Robin so. Something ugly stirred in her breast, then faded quickly into relief when Robin stood and made her way toward the large doors that led out of the room. The guards had hardly moved aside to let her pass before Marian was on her feet, offering a cursory nod at the others.
“Marian—”
Marian checked her breath so she would not snap at Johnny. Her eyes tracked Robin’s progress out of the room. “I don’t—I don’t feel quite well.”
He released her, and when Marian forced herself to meet his eyes, she found none of the judgment she expected. Instead he was watching her with an almost unbearable fondness.
“I simply wanted to tell you that you look very pretty tonight.”
The swirl of emotions trapped in her chest made her dizzy. She mouthed “Thank you” to Johnny, then hastened to the exit.
It would have been useless to pretend she wasn’t chasing after Robin. There was no one to lie to inside her own mind, which was racing. Where would Robin have gone? Back to her inn already? There were so many; there was no way Marian could determine which one Robin was staying in without asking someone, and dressed as she was, she would surely attract an unwanted amount of attention if she ventured out into the city.
Perhaps if she nipped up to her chambers and changed, maybe covered her hair with the cloak she used when she visited Gilbert….
Marian rounded the corner that led to the main stone staircase of the great hall. There Robin sat, winding her long hair into a thick braid.
Marian stopped short. “Oh.”
Robin glanced up, and her shoulders stiffened. “Lady Marian.”
The surprise of it made Marian falter, not that she had much of a plan for what to say if she managed to catch up with Robin. But to hear Robin, of all people, address her by her title…. Marian’s heart raced madly. “Are you all right?”
Robin stood, dropping the half-finished braid. “Quite, my lady.”
“My lady?” She forced a laugh. “Heavens, are we fourteen years old again?”
“Of course not, my lady.”
“Why are you calling me that? It’s Marian, please.”
Robin curtsied. It ill befit her, and it made Marian feel sick. “I think not, my lady.”
“Stop saying that!” Marian snapped.
“As you wish, my lady.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t talk to me like I’m someone else.”
Robin laughed bitterly. “I hardly know how to talk to you at all. Look at you. You look like everything you always said you never wanted to be.”
Marian jerked back as though Robin had slapped her. She might as well have done; the look on her face was barely controlled fury. “That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” Robin’s green eyes flashed fire. “Don’t you dare speak to me about fair, Marian Banner. Fair would have been a single word from you in the past three years.”
“Robin—”
“Don’t. Whatever it is you’ve come out here to say, don’t bother.”
“What did you want me to do, Robin? My father had just been killed!”
“And the world came crashing down! Plenty of people have lost parents, Marian. Not all of us climbed up into the king’s tower for safekeeping.” She brushed past Marian, looking as though she would dearly like to strike her. “Return to your king, my lady. I’m sure he misses your company.”
Marian caught Robin’s arm as she went past. Robin’s face contorted into a mask of rage, but Marian only saw it for the briefest of moments before she squeezed her eyes shut and slid her mouth over Robin’s.
It was a horrible, wretched idea. Marian knew it from the moment she felt Robin’s soft lips under hers. They were so sweet and so familiar, and responsive too. She kissed back, twisting her arm out of Marian’s grasp to bury a hand in Marian’s curls. Marian was drunk on it the instant it happened, and it was awful, because no sooner had she gotten Robin pulled flush against her than Robin was yanking away, snatching her hands out of Marian’s hair.
“How dare you,” she said breathlessly. “Not a word in three years. Not a word! You didn’t even—How dare you.”
She strode down the hallway without looking back, leaving Marian staring after her, shameful and miserable. But at the same time, there was a fire in her belly she had all but forgotten she could feel. She felt more alive than she had in years. And it was terrifying.
Lucy was already in her chambers when she got there, fretfully poking at the fire. She whirled around when Marian entered, her face pinched with concern.
“The other servants said you left the banquet early,” she said, hurrying over and placing a hand on Marian’s forehead. “Are you ill?”
“I’ve got a splitting headache,” Marian replied.
“Oh dear. Should I fetch the physician?”
“I think I’d just like to lie down.”
“Of course you would, dear. I’ll fetch you some cool water. That would be nice, wouldn’t it? Let me help you off with your dress first.”
Marian hated being fussed over, but it felt nice to be troubled with, little though she deserved it. She let Lucy undress her, then bustle her into bed. She couldn’t stop the image of Robin’s furious face flashing before her eyes. She couldn’t stop herself feeling Robin’s mouth under hers. She touched her lips, then burned with embarrassment at having done so.
“You don’t look well at all, milady, no, not at all.” Lucy laid her soft palm on Marian’s cheek, shaking her head. “I won’t have you out of this bed.”
Marian nodded. The sheets were cool and soft, and she sank into them gratefully. Lucy left and then came back quickly with something for Marian’s imaginary headache and something to help her sleep, both of which Marian hid in the locked case under her bed once Lucy left her for the evening. She would take them to Myra tomorrow.
Finally alone, Marian rolled onto her side and clutched her pillow, burying her face in the fabric. Her reaction to Robin confused and frustrated her and made her wish Robin had never come back to Nottingham. Except no, she didn’t wish that at all. She had missed Robin nearly every day since their parting. Not a week went by when there wasn’t something she wished to share with her, nor a month that passed when Marian didn’t burrow under her covers and let herself imagine Robin’s hands on her skin. Only it was so much easier to keep her feelings—about Robin, about everything—tidy if Robin was nothing more than a memory.
OVER THE next few days, Marian dragged herself from bed, let Lucy dress her, and made her way down to the Trials. She watched for a short while, then spent long hours wandering in circles around the city. Lucy walked with her the first two days but quickly declared that her feet could stand no more and implored Marian to stay out of trouble on her own. Marian agreed without pause; it was much easier to arrange meetings with her contacts without Lucy dogging her steps. She was even able to find a traveling money changer, whose face had gone so red with greed when she showed him the two matching emeralds she wished to sell that he didn’t even hesitate before snatching them up and shoving a bag of gold into Marian’s hands.
The price he offered was not fair at all, but Marian didn’t care. The gold was enough for two months, maybe three, if she was careful with it. She took a small bit to Gilbert for now and kept the rest of it back until it would be needed. Food and medicine Gilbert could be trusted with, but he was still a drunk, and the one time Marian had given him too much money, he’d spent a solid week in the bottom of a barrel. It had nearly killed him. Marian couldn’t take that chance.
Luckily, Gilbert’s sister Myra was at home when Marian brought it by. She worked in the washhouse in the castle, and with the Coronation Feast looming, she’d been working day and night. She looked exhausted when she opened the door for Marian but welcomed her in all the same.
“Gilbert has taken Tabby down to the Trials,” she said, shutting the door behind Marian. “It’s such a nice day, I’m surprised you’re not there as well.”
“I’ve seen just about all of it I care to.” Marian plucked the bundle of coins out of her pocket and handed it to Myra. Myra took it without a word and slid it into her apron.
“Not much longer now.”
“No,” Marian said. Soon King John would decide which of the men to keep in his army and which ones to knight. The feast would culminate with a grand ceremony in their honor. “Not much now.”
“Tabby is taken with this woman, this Robin Hood. Is she as good as everyone says she is?”
“Better,” Marian said. “King John, God save him, would be mad not to take her.”
“She seems quite honorable.”
Marian hummed.
“Do you think…?” Myra smoothed down her apron. “Would you like something to drink, maiden?”
Her curiosity piqued, Marian nodded and followed Myra into her small kitchen. “Do I think what?”
“It’s only…. A woman in the king’s army. Out there with all those men. Would she be safe?”
Marian’s stomach lurched unhappily. She had thought more than once about the danger Robin could be in, surrounded in a camp by men drunk on mead and battle. “I think she can take care of herself,” Marian said at length. “She’s strong. And besides, perhaps the king will not send her out. Perhaps he’ll keep her here at court. You know how he likes a conversation piece.”
“I shouldn’t think so,” Myra said. “Gilbert says the skirmish on the border grows worse every day. Two dozen men lost this past fortnight. The king will need all the bodies he can muster.”
Marian sat down heavily, twisting her fingers together. Myra’s words confirmed what her other contacts had told her in hushed whispers. While the king sat in court, gold and jewels dripping from the eaves, the borders of England itself were under increasing threat from bandits and the French army alike. Medical supplies were in short supply, and when winter set in, there would not be enough food for them all.
And the idea of Robin in the center of it…. Marian shivered and swallowed the lump in her throat.
“What time do you expect Gilbert and Tabby back?”
“Anytime now, I should think. Will you stay for dinner?”
“No, I mustn’t burden your hospitality.” Marian finished the drink Myra had placed before her and stood. “But you’ll give him my best, won’t you?”
“Oh, please do stay.” Myra took Marian’s hand in her own. “You do so much for us. Please. It would be an honor.”
To that, Marian couldn’t say no. She wasn’t expected back at the king’s table, and a quick note sent off to Lucy settled the rest of it. By the time Tabby and Gilbert came back, their faces bright pink from the sun, a feast of spit-roasted hare and brown bread was laid out on the table. Tabby squealed when she caught sight of Marian and flung herself into her arms.
“Maiden! You’re here!”
“Your mama offered to let me stay for dinner.” Marian hauled Tabby into her lap and smoothed down her hair.
“We saw the soldiers!”
“Did you, now? Have you been at the fields all day?”
Tabby nodded. “We have!”
“And is that why your face is so red?”
Tabby clumsily patted her cheek with her chubby hand. “Is it?”
“Very much.”
“Red’s my favorite color,” Tabby said seriously, leaving off her cheek to pat Marian’s. Her hands were sticky, and Marian thought of the honeyed dough she used to love when she was a child.
“Is it?”
“The king’s knights wear capes of red.” Tabby settled herself more fully into Marian’s lap. It was strange, how comforting her weight was. Marian gave her a little squeeze.
“I know they do. My father was a knight. Did you know that?”
Tabby’s eyes went wide. “Was he?”
“He was. And he was very, very brave.”
“Of course he was, if he was a knight.”
“Right,” Myra cut in, reaching in and lifting Tabby onto her hip. “Is anyone hungry?”
They ate and drank well into the night. Marian forced herself to focus on Myra, Gilbert, and Tabby and not to let her thoughts stray to Robin. It wasn’t easy to do, especially not when she finally took her leave and started to make her way back to the castle. Dark had fallen, but the evening was so fine that many people had settled outdoors with their pipes and their drink, setting up small fires to see one another by. Marian kept the hood of her cloak up so no one would recognize her, and indeed no one paid her any attention at all. Still, Marian took the back way to the castle, which took her straight past one of the inns housing candidates for the Trials.
Marian’s steps faltered. She paused and looked up at the darkened windows. Was Robin in there somewhere? Was she all right? Marian had only seen Johnny once since the night at the king’s dinner, and he’d been moving so gingerly Marian wouldn’t have been surprised to find out his ribs were broken. The Trials were notoriously brutal, and while it was with good reason, the idea of Robin injured or hurting….
No. She wouldn’t think on it. It wasn’t her concern. Robin had made it perfectly clear that she didn’t want Marian’s attentions, so she would keep them to herself. She straightened her shoulders and made to move past the inn when a movement in the shadows caught her eye.
Marian flattened herself against the nearest wall. She was used to skulking about in shadows—she knew exactly what it looked like when someone was trying to be unseen.
The figure darted from one shadow to the next, head down and hood up. It never occurred to Marian not to follow. She kept a short distance between them, making sure her footsteps were light on the dirt paths. Why in heaven would a woman—and it was a woman; her height and the narrow set of her shoulders told Marian that—be sneaking out of the boarding house in the dead of night?
Slowly they picked their way through the lower town, then up into the courtyard that sprawled out from the main entrance to the castle. Marian’s heart kicked in her chest. Could that be Robin? Why would she be heading toward the castle? Was she returning to see Marian? Had her feelings changed? Marian quickened her step, her heart and head running away with her. Her thoughts raced as she followed after the woman. They cut around the edge of the courtyard, and it was on the tip of Marian’s tongue to call out when suddenly the figure turned and looked around. The moonlight caught her face, and Marian gasped, shrinking back into the darkness.
The figure turned down one of the cobblestone paths that led away from the castle, tossing off her hood so her long, blond hair tumbled down her back. No longer at risk of being seen—for who would care if she were seen here?—she moved with more purpose, and a grace Robin had never possessed.
Lady Lillian turned up the footpath to her home and, with one last glance over her shoulder, opened the door and went inside.