“I’m not a child!” he snapped at his mother, whipping his head round. “Don’t make the mistake of treating me as such.”
“You are a child,” Eleanor said, stepping forward, her voice like steel and fire. “You are a pouting bully and in danger of being held in my esteem as the stupidest of my sons. Isabel gave you such a grand opportunity tonight. A coup d’etat. An idea, by the way, that your wife stole from her.” Her long, elegant hand thrust out like a bowstaff to point at me. “Feed the people and they will love you. Helplessly and eternally. And what do you do, my stupid, stupid son? You squander the opportunity and make them hate you.”
“How dare you speak to me—”
“Silence.” She paused a moment, but he stayed quiet. “Who else do you see out there?” she asked. “Who of the highest ranking nobles beneath you—a man just beneath the shades of royalty—do you see standing beside him?”
He looked out again, resting his hands on the window ledge. His chest began to rise and fall again, and he turned from the window with a wail fit for the tantrum of a five-year-old. He grabbed the nearest table and threw it toward me, and Gisbourne grabbed my arm, pulling me out of the way. It hit the stone fireplace and shattered, and soon cloths and coins and cups followed behind, a storm of small things smashed to bits.
Gisbourne pressed me to the wall, his big body over mine as the prince raged. He didn’t look at me, his head over my shoulder, his chest breathing against mine. Soon the screams turned to words, and Prince John swore profusely, mentioning Winchester’s name several times.
Gisbourne jerked and grunted, and I knew something hit him in the back. I didn’t dare look at him. I couldn’t much confess to know anything of what was going on, but I knew he defied the prince for my life, and I didn’t want to know why. I didn’t much have space in my heart to care for another tortured man.
For a few breaths, things stopped flying cross the room and the cursing ceased. “Are you quite finished?” Eleanor asked.
Gisbourne eased up on me, and no sooner did he step away than the prince pointed to me and yelled, “You stupid bitch! You did this!”
“You will fix this,” Eleanor said. “John. John. You will fix this.”
“I will kill all of them,” he snarled.
Eleanor slapped him. “John. You will go out there and say that your orders have been wildly misinterpreted. You will say you have come to thank Robin Hood for championing the people and protecting them from the gross misconduct of those serving you. You will say he is cleared of any wrongdoings tonight or any night past; you will invite him to participate in the tournament as the people’s representative.”
I couldn’t much help myself; I gasped.
Prince John scowled. “Why would I ever do that?”
“Why would he do that, Marian?” Eleanor asked, fixing me with her stare, sharper than my knives.
“I-I don’t know, my lady.”
“Then why did you so sharply inhale?”
I looked to Gisbourne, but his face held nothing for me. “Because Rob would stand for the people, fair and true. None of these other men care a whit about the people, but Rob—he does. It would change everything.” I looked fast from the prince to Eleanor.
“Precisely. You must give the people what they want, John,” Eleanor said. “If you ever hope to be your brother’s heir.”
Prince John looked out over the crowd again, his shoulders rolling with muscle and anger. “Fine,” he grunted. “But I still get to punish her.”
Eleanor let out a breath. “You cannot kill her.”
“I won’t kill her.” He glared at me. “She fancies herself a thief. I will punish her as one.”
His eyes drifted to my hands.
I jerked back, but Gisbourne caught me, and a scream tripped and caught in my throat. He dragged me forward and I fought him hard as horror dawned sick and dark in my stomach. Gisbourne caught up some rope from the bed that had been a victim of the prince’s wrath and lashed my good arm to the chair before forcing me into it. I kicked and kicked, but he tied me to the chair, gripping my good wrist and not looking at me.
“You are certainly within your rights to punish her,” Eleanor said, raising her chin a little and folding her hands in front of her. “But you will not.”
The prince laughed. “I will, Mother.”
“Really?” she asked. “You are a prince, and you are so undone by the actions of one small girl that you will punish her severely? Richard would have been too busy to notice, much less make a spectacle of such a small crime.”
The prince rolled his eyes. “Fine, Mother. I won’t hurt her.”
She nodded and stepped toward the door, and my blood rushed fast and cooling like summer rain. My breath came again.
The door shut and I looked to the prince, who hadn’t unlashed me from the chair.
He were studying me close, looking at me in a way I didn’t much like.
“Let me see her broken hand,” the prince said, and Gisbourne looked at him.