The people cheered back at him. He were young, a few years past twenty at best. Younger than I thought of a prince. I knew that he were more than ten years younger than King Richard, but seeing him were strange. You heard so much about a body in legend and stories and song, it were odd to see him true.
He lowered his arms, and the people lowered their cries. “So I shall judge this, fairly by all accounts, and have a contest to ensure the fitness of your lord. In two days time, a tournament shall begin. There shall be three parts—first, a joust, to prove to you his valor. Second, the melee and contest of swords, to prove to you his strength. Finally, there shall be the crowning event—an archery contest, to prove his most sound wisdom, his keen eye, and his superior judgment. To the winner of this final event shall the title fall.”
My mouth watered to do it but I didn’t much dare to spit on the ground. A game? He were choosing the next sheriff based on a game?
The people didn’t agree with me. They cheered and cheered, and I looked at Gisbourne, with a fair smug look on his face.
Maybe it weren’t even much of a game after all.
Chapter Seven
The prince dismounted and were led inside. He looked at Gisbourne and motioned him forward, and so Gisbourne grabbed my hand vengeful hard and dragged me forward. I looked back at Rob, standing there still, staring at me. I couldn’t see his heart on his face. I couldn’t know if he were angry, sad, or hateful toward me.
Gisbourne tugged so hard I nearly fell off my feet, but I were held up by the rush of people, closing like a wake to follow the prince.
Knights set up in the halls, blocking people from passing, but we were let pass at every point.
“I can damn well walk!” I snapped as Gisbourne kept his hold on me.
“It’s so much more entertaining to drag you, my love,” he said, tossing the words over his shoulder.
He stopped sharp at a guarded door. I knew where we were—this were the sheriff’s old quarters, the nicest room in the place. The guards opened the door to an antechamber with still more guards and we went in.
A young lord in an overpuffed green velvet tunic stood there. “Gisbourne,” he greeted, with a smile so thin I could bare see his lips, “so good to see you again.”
“My lord de Clare,” Gisbourne greeted, bowing. “May I introduce to you my lady wife, Marian of Leaford. Marian, this is the future earl of Hertford.”
They were both fair staring at me, so I dropped a curtsy and made a face.
De Clare coughed. “Charming,” he said with a bow.
Gisbourne’s lip were curling. “He wished to see me.”
“Yes, well, now he’s decided to keep you waiting,” de Clare said, sitting on a bench and propping one ankle on his knee. His eyes stayed on me overmuch. “So she doesn’t look half as wild as they say. Damn near domesticated, even.” He tapped his eye with a laugh. “I see what inspired the change.”
“You should see what I did to him,” I spat back.
De Clare laughed and I had half a mind to make him think better of it when Gisbourne’s heavy paw slapped across my face.
Pain were hot and blinding and I weren’t quite sure how, but I ended up on the floor. De Clare were laughing still and Gisbourne had turned away from me. A knight stooped and offered me his hand with a clatter of armor. Shamed, I pulled away from him and stood up on my own.
“She’s still learning,” Gisbourne said.
Annulment, I said to myself. I said it so many times the word lost its taste. It made me think of my Rob, and the thought of him and the pain pulsing through my mug suddenly made water push up behind my eyes.
I sucked in a breath and pushed away the tears. I weren’t never going to cry in front of Gisbourne.
Something wet were on my chin and I licked the side of my mouth. It stung and my mouth tasted like copper.
“You look pretty in red,” de Clare told me with a chuckle. I wiped the blood from my mouth and stared ahead at the door.
The door opened and a taller, immensely broad-shouldered man stepped forward. De Clare swallowed his laugh at the sight of him, and he spared bare more than a glance for de Clare. He took one long step from the door and stopped, bowing and catching my hand. His sheer size made me think he were older than me by far, but he smiled and the light that caught in his eyes made him appear far younger. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, younger even than my husband.
“My lady Marian,” he greeted, kissing my hand. “Forgive my impudence; I know we have not been introduced, but your father has always been a great adviser to me. I am the Earl of Winchester. It is an honor to meet you.”
He straightened up and I gave him a curtsy. He frowned as he looked at my face.
“Gisbourne, someone has done injury to your wife,” he said, his voice granite-like.
Gisbourne smirked. “Your Grace,” he greeted with a deep nod. “I’m hunting the rapscallion down.”
“Good,” Winchester said, still looking to me. “Any man that harms a woman ought to be flogged.” He gave me the littlest of smiles. “Though I hear some women have their own ways of answering such harm.”