John’s preferred weapon was a spear, though he was also an excellent broad swordsman. Hefting a long-handled spear from a barrel, he plopped it over his shoulder and said, “After you, boss.”
The two men set up their targets a few yards off, quickly falling into their familiar roles since boyhood.
They rarely had heartfelt conversations, except when handling weapons. Nixie would have probably told Robin it was such a man thing.
His lips twitched thinking of her. Even a hundred yards away from her, and still his thoughts lingered on that tiny, magical woman in his room.
“So”—John lined up his sights—“who is she?” He released the spear with a powerful thrust, sending it careening through the air so fast that it whistled a split-second before striking the thick target of straw.
Plucking a pheasant feather-tipped arrow from his quiver, Robin waited for John to retrieve his spear before nocking it.
“Well, my perceptive friend,” he said, then drew the string tight to his cheekbone, aiming it square at the center and released it with a steady breath, “you are right in thinking she is not who we claimed she was.”
The arrow found its target true. With a smirk of satisfaction, Robin notched another arrow.
“I figured as much. A woman that lovely, no”—he shook his head—“she’s not from around here; tales and songs would have been told about her.”
Releasing the arrow, Robin turned on John without even looking to see if the arrow had found its target. Though he knew it had. Robin never missed.
“What if I told you that they are? And what if I told you that she is my destined mate?”
It felt surreal saying those words to his friend, but Robin was only just processing what all this meant. The way he felt when he was near her, hell, how he felt now even when he wasn’t.
All sweaty and aching and desperate to be back there with her. Sating his appetite for her one sweet kiss at a time. He swallowed hard, shifting his stance.
John’s eyes widened. “Really? Because the way you were looking at her earlier, mate, I’d have sworn she’d ensorcelled you.”
Robin chuckled; it seemed even without his true memories of her, his friend was destined to think of her as a temptress.
“No, friend. Would that it were so easy. I’d cut off her head and be done with it.”
John nodded understandably. “This could be a problem for our coup. We’ve only five days till the gathering. Are we even—”
If his friend only knew how prepared they now were. With a sigh, Robin sat upon the stump of a dead tree and stared back at the camp. At his men. There was no doubt in his mind now that victory was finally well and truly theirs.
For centuries they’d eked out a hand-to-mouth existence in these woods. Woods he’d once despised with every fiber of his soul, but that he now considered more home than that castle had ever been.
“We are prepared, my friend. More than prepared. We shall succeed.”
Frowning, John stared toward camp, and Robin knew he wondered still about the mystery of the woman. But the truth of his Nixie would forever remain a mystery to his men.
“And you are sure of this because of that woman?”
Perceptive man that he was, John had quickly deduced the truth of it. Not the how of it, of course, but the truth nonetheless.
“She will be a distraction for the guards. A true one.”
Blunt fingers scratched at a whiskered jaw. “Are you sure that she’s not a decoy sent to us by Crispin? You must admit, Robin, that the timing couldn’t be more suspect.”
There was no way Robin could convince John of the truth, not without revealing who she actually was, but there were always ways. “Whether she is or isn’t, no longer matters. Marian is my mate. That is an immutable fact.”
“Oh, aye, well is it now?” John’s lips curled into a rapscallion grin. “And did she sing to the heavens when you dipped your—”
Fury that his friend would dare to speak of her like she was little more than a whore had Robin seeing red.
Jumping off the stump, Robin thrust his chest into his man’s and growled, “You mind your tongue or I’ll cut it out, friend or no.”
The air between them was tense for but a moment longer, before John stepped back and bowed deeply. “Forgive me, my friend, I only now see that you spoke truth.” Standing back up, he stared gravely at Robin. “The bond of mates is stronger than any other magic in existence, so if you say she is yours—”
“She is,” Robin quickly asserted. Though he’d not told Nixie that, he’d come to the obvious conclusion a few scant hours after meeting her. And he knew by the way that she looked at him that she knew it too.
But what would his life be if even the most glorious thing weren’t somehow twisted and tainted?
“She has been cursed,” Robin grudgingly admitted, and this was the closest to the truth he’d ever come with anyone. He glanced at John who’d just been about to head back toward the camp.