Was it possible that Robin would not be the only one to miss her? Judging by the tenor of his friend’s voice, he’d say she’d made an impact on more than just him.
Her smile was bittersweet. “I must go soon. Though I will not forget you.” She didn’t look at Robin as she said it, but he was sure those words were meant for him alone.
“And Crispin?” Robin asked clearing his throat, watching as one by one his men returned to their assignation point.
“With Maurice, who should”—John turned and held up an arm, his full lips going wide with a smile—“ahhh, be here any moment.”
As if conjured by thought, Maurice came tromping through the clearing just then, hanging on to Crispin’s collar with a chokehold grip.
Crispin glared at all of them.
His lips were swollen and bloody, as was his left eye. His crown had been lost ages ago. The ridiculous cloak he’d worn for the ceremony was now hanging half off one shoulder and his red tights were tattered at the knees.
“My men will find me, and when they do, you will finally die, Robin, as you should have all those years ago.”
Chapter 18
Why hadn’t he wished the man gone already? Delaying the inevitable only made everything harder.
Nixie twisted her fingers into her gown. One more wish, and then she’d be gone. Not that she’d be a genie forever, only twenty more years of this torture, but she’d be gone from him forever. There was no way he could find her, magical bond between them or not, there was no way.
And that felt even worse.
She glanced at Robin, awaiting his signal.
The mood around the camp was tense and so still that she could hear her heartbeat. Everyone seemed poised with their hands at the ready on the hilts of their swords, waiting for Robin’s orders.
Crispin spat a crimson trail by Robin’s foot. “So?” he taunted. “Tell me, brother, what do you plan to do with me now?”
Crispin’s blue eyes began to glow; clearly he was going to use his magic. Trying to compel Robin’s men into releasing him, or something of that nature.
“John, now!” Robin ordered.
With a violence that was astonishing, John slammed a hammy fist down onto the base of Crispin’s neck. The wicked king crumpled like an empty sack to the ground.
Working his jaw from side to side, Robin toed his brother’s body. If it weren’t for the occasional rise and fall of his chest, Nixie would have sworn the man dead. As sweet as John now was to her, she’d learned a healthy respect for those hands of his.
With a jerk of his foot, Robin rolled his brother. Crispin flopped over like a long-dead fish, his arms flung out haphazardly, his mouth hanging open wide. Nixie could only hope that blow would keep him down for the next few hours.
“Now you must all go.” Robin turned to his men. “I must do this alone. Except for you.” He looked at her.
One by one the men faded off, without question, without anger, simply following his rule to the letter of the law. Except for John, who lingered on the fringes.
The great, yawning desolation of what came next very nearly crippled her. Now he wished and she would be forced away from him.
John frowned, staring down at Robin’s hand. There was a question burning in his eyes.
“Trust me, my friend,” Robin said slowly, though his grip on Nixie’s arm never relented.
“Always.” John’s deep baritone was a comforting and familiar shiver of sound.
At night, when she fell asleep ten years from now, she hoped she would dream of this place. Of these men, of how they’d embedded their way into her heart and that at least in sleep she could take comfort from these precious moments.
Robin and John clapped forearms and shook on it.
She now finally understood John’s fanatical regard for Robin, and why he’d follow him anywhere he went. Because she felt the exact same, but it was more than mere charm or charisma that made her want to go where Robin led, it was the deep-down certainty that regardless of the thefts, and the brutality he’d sometimes be forced to exhibit, beneath it all, he was a true man of honor and character.
John’s heavy footsteps slowly faded away, blending into the shadows all around them. The men were all skilled fighters and trackers, and she knew deep in her heart that they would live well and safe for many years to come.
Though her heart was heavy, she still managed a soft smile at the thought.
Kneeling, Robin took Crispin’s hand in his and tugged at one of the fingers. Then he quickly did the same to himself. He was swapping out the rings.
The moment he slipped the ring on his hand, Robin’s image wavered. From the blue-eyed, blond-haired Brad Pitt to the green-eyed brunette his brother had pretended to be.
Nixie took an involuntary step back. In her head she knew it wasn’t really Crispin she was looking at, but the body laying on the ground looked so much like her Robin, and her Robin looked nothing like himself.