CHAPTER Twenty-One
“Who switched them?”
“Rob’s arrows?”
“For this round?” John, Much, and I all spoke at once.
“The prince’s men.” Allan looked at me, answering my question. “I don’t know what they did, but Gisbourne has the same arrows he did for the last
three rounds. Robin’s are different.”
“So?” John asked. I scowled at him, but he shrugged. “Bow’s not really my weapon, is it?”
“If the spine is even slightly different, it will be damn near impossible for Rob to get a perfect shot, which he’ll need. And Gisbourne will win, and
it will be very hard to prove they cheated,” Much explained.
“Like the prince would do anything about a cheat he helped with,” John grunted, half turning back to us. His eyes fell on my hand and his shoulders
rolled.
The horn sounded and I whipped my head over to see pages walking onto the field with the arrows, filling two of the standing quivers. Rob and Gisbourne
set out onto the field, walking toward the marks.
“Allan, please tell me you’re better at sneaking than wagging your chin,” I said, nodding him forward and pushing through the crowd to the edge.
“Scarlet, what are you doing?” John yelled.
“John,” I said, turning to him. “Stay here—we have to switch the arrows back.” He stepped forward, but I shook my head. “You’re one of the people
we protect now. And that’s a good thing.”
He looked at me, and he looked less sure and cocky than I’d ever known him. He nodded once, and I took off.
The first steps jangled pain through my hand and stole my breath, but I kept moving, desperate to get to them before a shot were flown. My dress and
cloak dragged over the snow like a horse’s harness, hauling me backward, but I kept going, Allan keeping pace at my side. We weren’t close. We weren’t
going to make it.
The herald raised his horn and I cut onto the field, running through the snow.
My head and hand were pulsing. My feet were awful heavy to lift and I were going slower.
Slower still. I twisted my arm out from the sling—I couldn’t much run like that, hobbled by the awkward weight on my chest.
“Scarlet!” Allan yelled. Had he stopped running with me?
I turned and Winchester were there, catching me about the waist and bodily pulling me off the field. “Let me go!” I howled. “I have to warn him! The
prince switched the arrows!”
Winchester gripped me, holding me still to watch from the fencing. “The only thing you will accomplish is getting yourself—or possibly Robin—hurt,”
he told me. “Robin knew he was always going to cheat somehow, Lady Marian.”
I pushed him off. “You don’t know what you’ve done,” I told him, slumping against the fencing. My heart felt heavier than any of my injuries or snow
-soaked clothing. My chest were trembling for breath. “If he loses—this is the only chance for the people.” For Rob.
“Have a little faith, my lady.”
Marshal strode out onto the field. “Three shots,” he yelled, and I could bare hear him from where I were—I doubted the common folk could hear him at
all. “Best single shot of the three is the winner.”
With this he raised his arm, and lowered it. Gisbourne and Robin both let their arrows fly at the same moment.
From the second it left his fingers, I saw Rob could tell something were wrong. The arrow flew wide, lodging in the outermost ring. The stands went
silent, and I heard chuckles and laughs from the nobles.
Gisbourne’s arrow were within the innermost black circle, but it weren’t dead on. His shot drew cheers from the nobles, and quiet from the stands as
the people looked to each other, wondering what had happened, wondering how they were being cheated of their hero.
Rob’s chest were rising hard and fast, pluming white steam into the air from his breath like magic were circling him, giving him power. Rob’s feet drew
together, and he raised his chin. He were staring down the target, running his fingers over the arrow.
He were the best shot I’d ever seen. He could do this. He could do this.
Marshal’s arm raised again, and they notched their arrows and drew. Gisbourne let his arrow fly first, singing in a careful line. It bit deep into the
target. It were to the other edge of the inner black circle.
A good shot. An excellent shot, to any other archer. But it still left that small circle of hope, the size of my fist. A chance.
Rob’s stance were wide and comfortable, and he shook the tension out of his shoulders. His elegant, long arms raised again with the bow and arrow, and
he let the arrow fly after a moment more.
It struck the outside of the second ring, and though it weren’t enough even to compete with Gisbourne’s strikes, the common folk leapt to their feet,
cheering and shouting.
Gisbourne glared at Robin, but Rob paid no mind. He were in his world, speaking to his bow like it were his heart. My skin ran over with gooseflesh.
Marshal raised his arm again.
I shut my eyes. I had done as much as I could, and this bit weren’t for my heart to decide. I shut my eyes and I made the sign of the cross and I
prayed. I prayed for hope, for fortitude, for something that could defend my heart from breaking if Rob lost this. Something that could find a way to
help him forgive himself if he couldn’t do it. Something that could stem the tide of blood that would flood out onto the people if we had to suffer
another cruel sheriff. Something to keep warm the feeble hope that fluttered in me, that awful cruelty of hope that would never go out, no matter what I
did.
No matter if Gisbourne won and I had to spend the rest of my life suffering and watching as those I loved suffered, I would still hope. I would hope for
another chance like this, another day like this one.
Please, God. Defend my heart. Defend my hope.
A low gasp ran through the crowd, and I opened my eyes. Rob still had his arrow notched and ready; Gisbourne’s bow were lowered. Gisbourne’s shot were
in the black, a thumb closer to center than his other shots. Rob’s target had narrowed to the size of a peach at eighty paces.
Shivers ran over my skin. I knew too well that the world were meant for cheaters to prosper in, that those who took advantage of the weak and defenseless
sat comfy and warm in guarded castles. There weren’t no natural justice. There weren’t no way for Rob to win this, to scrape back from the switch of
the arrows.
I didn’t shut my eyes again. I raised my chin and watched as Rob’s arm went tense and then loose as the arrow shot out from his bow, making its
graceful arch over the snow-covered field. I lost it for a moment, a thin shot of black against the backdrop of trees, and then the thunk of it hitting
the target drew my eye.
The first arrow wide. The next in the second ring.
And the last so close to center there were no question that it had to be the winning shot.
I ran, and Winchester didn’t stop me this time. I picked up my skirts with my one hand and flew over the snow, the Archangel’s own wings carrying me
forward. People were breaking through the fencing and flooding the field, but I made it to Rob before any of them.
He dropped his bow and picked me up as I threw my arms around him. I were careful to keep my hurt arm up, but it hurt anyway and I couldn’t much care.
Tears were overrunning my face and I buried it in his neck, my whole body shaking, though I weren’t sure if it were tears or joy or running what caused
it.
“I love you,” he murmured. “I love you.”
“You did it,” I told him. “You won. You did it, my love.”
He rubbed his face into my neck too, and I felt him shudder.
“Guards!” the prince roared, and we broke apart to see him flinging his arm this way and that. “Stop the rabble!”
Guards flooded forward, but Rob turned and spread his hands wide, and the people stopped running but started cheering. Rob raised his hands and lowered
them, and the people grew quiet slow. “Please retake your seats,” Rob yelled when they were quiet enough. “I believe I have an oath to take!”
This drew cheers and whoops and unending clapping, but the people, with the prodding of the guards, took their seats again. Turning back to the nobles, I
realized Gisbourne were gone from the field.
“Your champion!” the prince yelled.
I laughed, unable to keep it in as the happiness bubbled up in me. The people were cheering themselves hoarse.
“Kneel!” the prince called.
Robin knelt.
“Repeat this oath,” the prince said. The people went silent.
“By the Lord, I will to King Richard and the office of sheriff be faithful and true, and love all that he loves, and shun all that he shuns, according
to God’s law, and according to the world’s principles, and never, by will nor by force, by word nor by work, do ought of what is loathful to him; on
condition that he keep me as I am willing to deserve when I to him submitted and chose his will.”
Robin repeated it, his voice strong and powerful in the quiet. Snow drifted down on him, crowning his head and anointing his shoulders like holy
blessings.
“Stand,” the prince commanded. Isabel came forward and presented a golden arrow on a velvet cushion, and Robin bowed low to her.
“Sheriff,” she greeted, nodding her head. “Collect your prize.”
Rob straightened up. His eyes met mine, hungry and wanting in a way that made my skin rush over with red. He took the arrow but looked the whole time at
me. I could see it, then—our future together. That it could happen. That one day soon he might be able to look at me like that and I could kiss it right
off his face, in front of all these people, the wife of Robin Hood—a true wife. A loved wife.
Rob broke our gaze and turned to the crowd, holding up his prize. The prince said something further about congratulations or some such, but it were lost.
Nottingham had its hero.
The prince announced that there were to be a feast that night, and the whole castle and courtyard would be open to the common folk. They had their
sheriff, and he didn’t want there to be any more mistakes with his orders and generosity. I saw Eleanor nod slow while he said it, and I suspected his
true motive were pleasing his mother.
The sun began to set, and I fair floated back up to the castle proper, going to the chambers I shared with Gisbourne eager, for once, to wear a dress. I
wanted to try and look well for Rob that night; I wanted to dance with him and bask in the strangeness of this single happy moment.
The first of many happy moments, perhaps.
I opened the door and much of my mood changed. Gisbourne were there, bent over in a chair by the fire, his shirt off, looking broken. I stopped in the
doorway and didn’t move farther in.
“Marian, close the door,” he grunted.
I nudged it shut with my foot, coming closer to him. I sat in the other chair, drawing up my feet, resting the hand that had set to aching.
“How did you do it?” he asked, his voice low and rumbling like a dog’s.
Scowling, I asked, “Do what?”
“Switch the arrows back. How did you even figure it out?”
“I didn’t switch anything.”
“I don’t believe you.”
My shoulders lifted. “As a rule, you shouldn’t.”
He sneered. “Of course. Thief, liar, all that. Only you aren’t any of those things, are you? You’re honest, and honorable. Good.” He stood and never
looked to me, leaning over the fireplace instead. His body were bruised from the days of abuse. “You knew I’d cheat. And you still believed in him.
Believed he’d win.”
“I thought the prince would cheat for you,” I said. “But yes.”
“This isn’t how it was supposed to be,” he said to the fire. “You were mine, Marian, long before you even knew he existed. Your unassailable loyalty
and unshakeable belief should have been for me.”
That stole my breath, and I stared at him as he turned, his face broken open and wide, like a hurt little boy instead of the evil warrior of a man I
knew. He came closer to me and knelt before my chair, pulling me closer to the edge of it. “What are you—” I started.
“Hush,” he said, and he leaned forward and kissed me. Even if I saw a hurt soul, it weren’t in his kiss; it were forceful and hard and strong,
overpowering. I tried to pull away and he held me still.
My breath started rushing faster and my heart fluttered with fear. I curled my nails into his face, digging at the flesh as I tried to cry out.
With more speed than I thought he had in him, he grabbed my arms and hauled me up before him. He let my mouth go but held me still. “Get on the bed,”
he told me.
“Are you daft?” I wailed. “No!”
His fingers pinched my arms, squeezing overtight. His face turned into a sneer. “Tell me, my dear, what did you think my reaction would be to losing
this competition? Just hand you over to your hero with a smile on my face? Let you live as lord and lady of the manor?”
“The annulment—”
“Getting rid of you seems quite thrilling provided I have something left. But I don’t, and you, Eleanor’s favorite, will buy me something more. So get
on the bed, Marian, because I will never annul this marriage, and in a few minutes, it won’t even be possible.”
He let me go, which seemed a fool thing to do. I ran for the door but he were too close, and he slammed against my back, trapping my hand between me and
the door.
I wailed in pain.
His hands caught my waist, running up to squeeze my bits. “Since when did I ever mind chasing you, love?” he growled in my ear.
I smashed my head back against his and got an inch of space, running to the window, trying to get my knife on the shutter. He caught up and pinned me to
the ledge so I bent forward, straining for the knife.
“I’m not Eleanor’s favorite,” I grunted through my teeth. “What would she ever give you for me?”
His hands ran up my back and caught the back of my gown. He jerked hard and the thing tore. I pulled back from the shutter to try and hit him, but his
giant paw on my neck heaved me forward. “Stay,” he snapped. “Foolish little thief. You know nothing of who you really are. Why, Eleanor and Richard
will do anything to keep you safe.”
His hands were on my naked back, and he pressed a kiss to the long scar that ran from my shoulder to my spine that his sword had given me months ago.
“Lovely,” he murmured as my skin crawled over my bones.
The extra weight had pushed me forward, and my hand closed on the hilt of the knife. I couldn’t push up—he were too heavy on my back and my good hand
had the knife in it. I pulled it under me. “Eleanor wouldn’t give you anything for me. And what the hell does Richard have to do with it?”
“You don’t think?” he mused. “You haven’t figured this out, clever thief?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Your father, Marian.”
“My father?” I asked.
He were pulling at my skirts and trying to drag them up while he were still pushing me down. I kicked out vicious, trying to hit him. Gisbourne laughed.
“You know. Don’t you? Coeur de Leon,” he said to me.
Lionheart.
My blood started to drain from my skin. “What?” I asked.
“I know your parents said something about it. Didn’t they?” His voice were taunting me now.
“N-no.”
“I heard them say you’re not their daughter. Whose daughter are you, Marian?” he asked, chuckling. “Who do you think could place you in a noble
household? Who would?”
My good hand curled into a fist around the knife, shaking and waiting for the right moment even as I felt his hands on my legs. “What do you know, Guy?
”
“I know who you are.” I were still and he leaned close to whisper in my ear. “I know who you’ve always been. Whose blood is really in your veins. I
know why it would be the most mortal of sins to spill your blood. Why Eleanor won’t allow her son to harm you.”
“Say it,” I snapped.
He laughed. “Who hid you, Marian?”
“Eleanor,” I guessed.
He nodded. “Why?”
“Do you think I know that! Tell me, Gisbourne!”
“Because you’re a bastard,” he told me, pulling my skirts higher.
“Whose?”
“I already told you that.”
My head swam, and my knees went soft. Coeur de Leon. “That’s not true.”
“Of course it is.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I would have heard of it!” I said. “Everyone would have heard of it!”
“Eleanor’s not that foolish. You would never be allowed to rule, of course, but a bastard princess—that’s still a considerable power. Eleanor knows
better than anyone how to wield a child. She uses her own like chess pieces.”
“But he weren’t—he weren’t even king—” I were struggling to breathe right.
Gisbourne chuckled, and he lifted his hips off me to pull my skirt up. It were a tiny bit of space, but it were the moment I needed.
I sucked in a breath and twisted hard, slashing out with the knife.
It hit him in the shoulder, sliding a red ribbon of blood across his collarbone, and he jumped back with a howl. I ran to the door and opened it, angling
the knife at him as he came closer. He scowled and stopped.
“Mary,” I snapped. She appeared.
“Fetch the earl. Quick. And I will be needing a new dress for dinner.”
“Y-yes, my lady,” she said, looking between me and my husband. She went.
Gisbourne stayed where he were, looking at the knife. “You call me a fool so often,” I snapped. “But you just gave me your best bit of information. If
I mean as much to Eleanor or the king as you say, she won’t never let you force me, Gisbourne. I thought I’d have to run far but all I have to do is go
down the hall, isn’t that right?”
“Oh, I’m sure she’d protect you. But if you go to Eleanor, if you aren’t in my bed by morning light, ready to do your willing duty as my wife, I will
raze Leaford to the ground with everyone inside it. And that will only be my first action.”
My courage faltered.
“Everything has been stolen from me, Marian, since I was a boy. You are my only chance of having Richard pay me any mind at all, and I won’t let
anyone, least of all your mewling pup of an outlaw, take another damn thing from me. Besides, you really think Prince John is finished with you, Marian?
With your dashing hero? He will crush you both. He will make you wish you never won this so-called victory. He will have his underhanded, vindictive way,
and if you ever forget that, look to your hand.”
He were silent for a moment.
“He will make you pay for this, Marian.”
“My lady?” the earl asked, appearing slightly breathless in the doorway. He looked me over and frowned.
“Your Grace,” I said. “It seems I am in need of your assistance. Would you mind detaining my husband so I may change for dinner?”
He folded his arms. “With pleasure.”
“Just remember, Marian,” Gisbourne told me, sitting in a chair by the fire. “You have till morning.”