“For the crime of shooting the king’s deer, he will lose his hand.”

“Criminal,” Hannah muttered next to her. Marian glanced at her sideways before looking back at the scaffold.

The tanner was barely more than a boy. His face was spotted, his hair was greasy, and his eyes were bloodshot as though he’d been crying. He was thin as the saplings she’d seen when they’d first arrived in Nottingham.

“Please,” she heard a woman cry—the boy’s mother if she had to guess. “Oh, please for pity’s sake. We were starving. Have mercy!”

“Silence,” commanded the sheriff, a wide man with blond hair and watery blue eyes. He looked quite the way a king’s deputy should look, except that his hair was perhaps a little greasier than the solemnity of his office called for. “He broke the king’s law and will know the king’s justice.”

Marian watched as the boy’s arm was extended over a block and the executioner took out an axe. She did not watch as his hand was cleaved from his body but she did hear the cry of pain that ripped out of his throat and the mutterings of the crowd.

When she could bring herself to look again, the block was a bit wetter, a bit redder, and the boy was being dragged away, leaving a ribbon of blood trailing on the ground behind him. He had clearly fainted.

“That’s what you get when you break the law,” Hannah told her, clearly trying to sound consoling and failing dismally. “It is vicious, but we all must follow the king’s laws, which protect us all. There there, my dear,” and her nurse reached up with a handkerchief to wipe a tear from Marian’s eyes. “There is no need to trouble yourself. The villain was caught and got what he deserved. Now if only they could do the same with that Robin Hood.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Marian saw a flicker, someone in a cape who was trying to make her way through the crowd. And Marian felt her jaw drop.

“Rob?”

Rob froze in her tracks and turned to see Marian with a look of wonder. Astonishment turned into a crooked grin as Robin, Lady Huntington, stepped forward with as bouncy a gait as she’d had when she was eleven. Her hair was just as auburn, her eyes just as green. Her face was more freckled, but this didn’t surprise Marian. Rob had never been good at staying indoors, which was what was required to keep her skin from peppering with freckles. “What are you doing here?” Rob asked, delighted. Her voice was unexpectedly low and strident, but it was still Rob’s voice, somehow.

“The queen is visiting,” she said.

“The queen is here?” Rob asked sharply, her gaze darting up over Marian’s shoulder towards the castle, as though she would see the queen in the stone walls.

“No, not yet,” Marian said. “We came ahead.”

And Rob’s gaze slid next to Hannah, a look of delight filling her green eyes. “That can’t be Hannah! I promise I haven’t had extra hotcakes. I swear it.” She raised her hands as if showing their emptiness would mean no one would ask what was in her pockets, which had always happened when they’d been children together.

“Oh, hush you,” Hannah said with a smile, clearly having forgotten no more than Rob had Rob’s penchant for sneaking extra food from the kitchens whenever she could. “But what brings you to Nottingham? We are a far cry from Huntington.”

“Sometimes you want to stretch your legs,” Rob replied. “I have friends that I’m visiting,” she added.

“You must come dine with us,” Marian said. She hadn’t seen Rob in years. They had only had one bright summer when they’d both been girls, a summer of muddy boots and calloused hands, for there wasn’t a tree that Rob didn’t want to climb and there wasn’t a river that Marian didn’t want to jump in. They’d gotten on instantly and Marian had never cried so much as she had when the king’s household had left Huntington and gone into the next part of its tour. That was the last she’d seen of Rob. There’ll be other friends, and finer ones, Hannah had clucked, trying and failing to comfort her. But no one had ever been like Robin. “Especially before Queen Berengaria arrives.” The queen liked propriety and—judging from the fact that Rob was wearing trousers and tunic as though she were still a little girl who could get away with such things—she doubted that Queen Berengaria would like her much or want her in the castle while she was there.

“I will have to, but not today,” Rob said and she looked around as though looking for someone.

“Your friend?” Marian asked and Rob looked back at her. Something flickered in her eyes.

“You’ve been crying,” Robin said, and her voice was more husky than strident this time. Marian’s breath caught in her throat.

“She has as gentle a heart as ever,” Hannah said. “I told her not to mourn the criminal’s hand, but she cares all the same.”

Rob gave her a soft smile. “There’s no shame in caring that a boy lost his hand. He is a living soul, even if the king’s laws treat him as less than that.”

Hannah sputtered in shock and even Marian felt her mouth open in surprise. “But you cannot mean that,” Hannah blustered.

Rob sighed and looked at the chopping block. “He was young and foolish and hungry—a dangerous combination for him, but not to the king. But he was still a man, the same as Prince John, and yet the laws favor the woods to God’s souls.” Hannah opened her mouth to protest this argument more, but Rob lifted her chin, her eyes elsewhere again. “Forgive me, I must away. I will definitely join you for dinner before the queen arrives,” and before Marian could even say a proper goodbye, Robin, Lady Huntington was off, bounding across the town square like a fox, her auburn hair gleaming in the sun. Marian watched as one of the tallest men she’d ever seen—blond and blue-eyed as the sheriff had been, and yet so very different—fell into step beside her and soon the two disappeared on the other side of the square.

“She’s trouble, that Robin of Huntington,” Hannah said angrily.

She’s right, though, Marian thought as she let Hannah take her arm and steer her back towards the castle. God be good, she’s right.

—

 

Queen Berengaria arrived three days later with great fanfare throughout the little town of Nottingham, surrounded by a retinue of knights. She rode on a white horse that had been given to her when she’d married King Richard, and the townsfolk threw flower petals at her and clapped.

Marian stood at the gates of the castle with Hannah and William Crophill, Lord Mayor of Nottingham, and curtseyed deeply when Queen Berengaria dismounted from her horse. “Welcome, Your Majesty,” the Lord Mayor said, “I hope your journey gave you no trouble.”

Queen Berengaria gave him a beleaguered look. “You have outlaws in the king’s wood, my lord,” she said coolly.

Lord William stiffened. “Did they—”

“We were accosted this morning. I should have hoped your sheriff would be able to rout them by now.”

Lord William shifted uncomfortably. “We’ve had some difficulty locating their hideaway. Hood is very—”

“I want him routed,” she said firmly. “I want him hanging from a noose by the end of the week or believe me, my lord, you will know the king’s displeasure.” She turned to Marian and her face softened. “My dear,” she said and she reached for Marian’s hands.

“Majesty,” Marian said happily, and she led the queen inside.

Of everyone in the royal household, Queen Berengaria was the one that Marian liked best—and the one who liked Marian best as well. For most of her youth, she had only ever known Queen Eleanor’s ire, for Eleanor had not particularly liked evidence that her husband knew other women, and the bastard Marian was living proof of that. Richard had always been coolly distant, likely to appease his mother, and the others had barely paid more attention to her. She’d been shuffled in and out of sight at court until Queen Berengaria had arrived and taken a fondness to her.

“I have news for you,” Berengaria said as Marian led her to the rooms she knew that Lord William had prepared for her.

“Oh?”

“Prince John is arranging a marriage for you.”

Marian blinked at her. She didn’t think her half-brother ever thought of her at all, much less planned a marriage for her while Richard was crusading. “Who with?”

“Hubert de Burgh,” Queen Berengaria replied and Marian frowned. “He is one of John’s friends and close advisors,” she continued.

“Is it someone King Richard would approve of?” Marian asked. Her guardian had never had much of an interest in her, truth be told. He was too much his mother’s son. But Berengaria at least had always been her ally, and would know if this was something that would not bring her further down in the king’s esteem.

“I can’t imagine he wouldn’t,” the queen responded. “Though I imagine it would make…” she paused and glanced at Marian. “There are many who are fonder of our good king than of his brother, and I rather suspect those such as they would be less than thrilled with such a match. But the king would not have anything negative to say on the matter.”

“Why wouldn’t they be thrilled?” Berengaria did not respond and Marian knew why. She sighed. Marian did not particularly like the idea of a marriage that would only bring her hardship. She’d spent too much of her life having to stand up for herself while smiling in the face of those who thought the less of her for her illegitimate bloodline. She did not want to have to defend herself for marrying a favorite of John’s.

“Is it done, then? Has everyone agreed to it?” she asked instead.

“Not just yet, but soon, I imagine. It is a fine match, all things considered,” Berengaria added in some attempt at providing solace.

“I suppose so,” Marian said and Berengaria laughed.

“You’ll be alright. Everyone is excited by the prospect of marriage until it faces them and the reality of it all sets in. Perhaps he’ll go off crusading like Richard and then you won’t have to see him hardly ever, but can enjoy his wealth and property.”

Berengaria gave her a smile, and clearly expected Marian to join in the slight jab at the husband she barely knew, but something in the way she said it made Marian think of the square several days before, and seeing Rob again, and the poor tanner who had lost his hand for his starvation. “The outlaws,” she began, “Did you get a good look at them?”

“They were mostly masked,” the queen said darkly. “For all the underbrush was well cleared, they caught us completely by surprise. It may as well have been a wild wood and not the king’s.”

“Did they steal anything?”

“Some coin,” the queen said. “And what jewels I wore on my fingers and throat, but not the ones in my boxes for I rather think they wished to make a fast escape—or perhaps it didn’t occur to them to look. Perhaps they were quick but not clever.”

“Was Robin Hood among them?” Marian asked.

“Any of them could have been Robin Hood. There was enough of them to distract my knights completely with all the arrows pointed at us, and the one who spoke carried a sword at his hip but didn’t seem interested in using it.” She shuddered. “If Crophill doesn’t have him hung by the end of the week—”

“I’m sure he will,” Marian said.

“The very nerve of those bandits,” the queen continued angrily, her face growing quite pink in her outrage. “They dared say the king’s woods weren’t the king’s, but rather belonged to all the people of England. Such treason cannot stand, not least while the king went to defend holy Jerusalem from the infidels. And to think they said that it was in Richard’s name, and that they were stealing his queen’s own jewels to pay his ransom!”

“They did?”

“Oh yes—they said John’s tyranny couldn’t stand while the rightful king was off, as if the Laws of the Forest were of John’s creation. I think they are stirring more trouble for Richard in saying so for when he returns, anyone who is enthralled with Hood’s message will turn on him when they see no change. Far too frequently in my life I’ve seen people claim alms for the poor, claim caring and then use it to line their coffers. I doubt this Robin Hood is any different from those thieves, no matter what he says.” Indeed, Marian thought with another frown, and yet it sat wrong. “Fret not my dear,” Berengaria said, mistaking Marian’s frown and patted her arm. “All will be well. I promise.”

But Marian was not so sure. There was a tight feeling in her gut she could not place. She’d had it since she’d watched the tanner lose his hand, but it only grew more pronounced now.

 

—

 

That night she was plagued with thought. Her mind would not stop turning from the queen’s words; her gut didn’t loosen either.

The last time she’d felt this way, she’d been thirteen and starting to grow into her womanhood, though she was still scrawny and small for her age. The last time she’d felt this way, one of the court’s squires was haranguing the blacksmith’s boy, beating him because he could. The last time was right before she’d been hit for the first time because she had shouted at the squire, stepped in his way and said if he’d wanted to beat on those less than him, he’d have to get through her first, and he had swung at her. She was sure, in retrospect, that he’d wanted to frighten her, had meant to stop his hand right in front of her face to watch her blink, but Marian had stepped into the punch and ended up with a blackened eye.

“What were you doing, getting into a fight with a boy?” Hannah had demanded angrily as she’d tried to find anything cool to press over Marian’s swollen and bruised flesh. “You’re a lady, not a lionheart. Fighting’s for men.”

But Marian hadn’t regretted it. She and Richard shared some blood; perhaps there was a lionheart in her too. The blacksmith’s boy had been grateful enough to find her a practice sword and she’d spent what little free time she had watching the men train and teaching herself at night when she was supposed to be asleep.

It had felt good standing up to the squire; it would have felt better to strike him back.

It had turned into a nightly ritual for her, quite as much as her prayers and it always soothed her. She had never dueled anyone before, and as she’d grown older the desire to strike back had waned somewhat. But it brought her joy to move her body this way, and gave her muscles that she was always told women couldn’t have, not least that they shouldn’t.

After hours of tossing and turning, she threw her blankets back and grabbed the sword from the bottom of her trunk. It was no longer a practice sword—this time it was live steel with soft dark leather wrapped around the hilt. It was not so long or as broad as the ones that she’d seen knights and guardsmen wield but something that the blacksmith’s boy she’d defended had happily given her when she’d asked for one larger than the first.

And as she lifted it and began to step into the forms she’d taught herself for years, her mind was full of the tanner’s yelling, and Queen Berengaria’s outrage and Robin—Robin Hood and Robin, Lady Huntington.

He is a living soul, even if the king’s laws treat him as less than that.

Oh, Rob, you aren’t such a fool as to be Robin Hood, are you?

But before she’d even finished the thought, she knew it was true. And yet somehow, the thought didn’t distress her nearly so much as the realization that Rob had not, as she had promised, come to dine with her before the queen’s arrival.

 

—

 

It was as though thinking of Rob the night before had summoned her.

Robin arrived on horseback the next day, wearing as fine a doublet as Marian had ever seen, velvet and embroidered. She wore her fox-colored hair in a long, thick braid as she rode towards the castle with two men that Marian had never seen before. One was a man in a scarlet cap and the other was a friar. She dismounted fluidly when she reached the courtyard and gave Marian a crooked grin.

“You are late,” Marian sniffed. She couldn’t truly be annoyed with Robin now that she was there, especially given the way that Rob was grinning at her.

“Forgive my tardiness,” Rob said. “I know I promised to come several days ago.”

“The queen has arrived,” Marian said.

“So I’ve heard,” Rob replied. “I hear she was waylaid in the woods.”

“She was,” Marian said carefully. “Robin Hood’s men found her and stole from her.”

“It must have been upsetting,” Robin said, her eyes flickering between Marian’s and the castle doors behind her. “I hope she is recovered from it.”

Do you? Marian wondered.

“What good could a queen’s jewels do when it comes to changing the king’s laws?” Marian asked instead. “Surely it would achieve the opposite of what Robin’s men would wish and make her more hostile to any change?”

“I hear that what they won’t be giving back to the good and overtaxed and starving people of Nottingham, they plan to give towards Richard’s ransom. It surprises me that his wife would wear such fine gold and jewels while he languishes in a cell in France after his crusades to recover Jerusalem. I would think she would have contributed the gold to bring the good king home while his brother diverts the king’s rightful taxes into his private coffers.” Robin’s eyes flashed as she spoke and Marian’s breath caught in her throat at the indictment of Berengaria.

“Does John truly divert the taxes?” Marian asked, her stomach clenching as she thought of the marriage her half-brother was arranging for her.

“Why else hasn’t Richard returned?” Robin asked quietly, “You think there isn’t enough gold in all of England to have set him free by now?”

Marian opened her mouth, then closed it again. She wondered if Berengaria knew; she wondered if she cared, for she seemed to prefer the life of a queen without the burden of a husband, and had wished the same liberty for Marian in her impending match.

“Who are these you’ve brought with you?” she asked. It was an obvious attempt to change the subject, she knew, but the man with the red cap and the friar both were standing there, waiting.

“My escort, of course,” Rob said and there was half a roll, half a gleam to her eye as she glanced at them. “Will Scarlet.”

“Charmed,” the man with the cap said.

“And Friar Tuck, who used to run a little church in the wood before the Sheriff and Lord Mayor decided he shouldn’t anymore. He had hoped to have words with them on the matter.”

“And why would you invest yourself in his case?” Marian asked.

“Is it not the responsibility of any nobly born man or woman to help God’s servants should the need arise? If Friar Tuck could enter the Lord Mayor’s castle at Lady Huntington’s side, he would surely not be denied an audience as he has been previously.”

“I suppose not,” Marian said, and she curtseyed to each of the two men. “I’m grateful that you keep my friend safe and her honor intact.”

“The pleasure is all ours, I assure you,” Will Scarlet said with a smile not unlike Robin’s at all, sharing humor over the knowledge they didn’t think that Marian had.

“Can I show you the castle?” Marian asked, gesturing towards the great wooden doors behind her.

“We wouldn’t trouble you,” Friar Tuck said, glancing between Rob and Will. “Will and I can find Lord William ourselves and leave you to catch up with your friend.” It’s as if they make themselves scarce.

But before she could dwell on that thought, Rob said, “I should like to see the gardens. I’ve heard good things about Crophill’s gardens.”

“Let’s go,” Marian agreed slowly and Rob offered her arm and the two of them strolled on together.

“Do you remember our apple fight?” Rob asked her, her gaze falling on an apple tree that was laden with ripening red fruit.

“I remember that you’re a cheater and a liar,” Marian replied hotly and Rob laughed.

“I wasn’t cheating and I only lied a little.”

“I was getting mushy apple out of my hair all afternoon. Hannah made me take a bath.” Marian shuddered. “And it was all your fault.”

“At least some of it was,” Rob replied with a laugh that made her green eyes twinkle with the remembered mischief. The green of the garden around them only made her eyes seem brighter, and her lips were almost the same shade as those apples on the tree. “I will say you did walk right into that tripwire.”

“I did no such thing, and wouldn’t be blamed for it if I did,” she sniffed. “And I’ll have you know I could more than take you in a rematch.”

“Could you now?” Rob asked and she stepped back, looking Marian up and down. For some reason, the simple act made a shiver run up and down Marian’s spine—not least because it made her take into account Rob’s slim waist and modest hips, and that her breasts were so small she could easily fit into a man’s doublet without making the fabric bunch. “Your skirts would get in the way, I think. You’d end up tripping over them.”

“You’re not the only one who wears hose,” Marian lied and Rob’s eyebrows rose.

“Do you?”

“Sometimes,” she replied. “When my brothers or the queen aren’t present. They’re easier to move in. And ride in.” And other things, she was sure. In truth, she never did wear them, at least not with the frequency that Robin seemed to, but when it was just her and her sword at night, she wasn’t exactly wearing the skirts she was wearing now.

“I should like to see that,” Rob said and that twinkle was still in her emerald eyes, making Marian’s mouth go almost completely dry.

“You shall have to regain my trust, after the apple incident and your more recent failure,” Marian huffed.

“My more recent failure?” A surprised laugh burst from Robin’s lips. “What failure is that, pray?”

“You said you should come to dine before the queen arrived,” Marian said, placing her hands on her hips the way Hannah did whenever Hannah was berating.

“You will have to forgive me,” Rob said, her face growing somber. Indeed, she took her cap off and swept it into an elaborate bow. Marian couldn’t quite decide if it was too mocking or just mocking enough. “It was not my intent to leave you waiting.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Marian sniffed in her best imitation of Queen Eleanor.

“Then I shall make sure you see it,” Rob replied and suddenly she was standing in front of Marian. It lasted only a moment, that feeling of breathlessness, of time stopping. It lasted only for the briefest of seconds, or perhaps it lasted a year. Marian wasn’t sure. All she was sure of was she was looking up into Rob’s eyes and she was eleven again, playing in a garden with her new friend, the one who didn’t make fun of her when her skirts got muddy, the one who showed no mercy when they were play fighting because why shouldn’t they play fight? They were children, and there weren’t any boys to tell them that was not a thing for girls, much less gently born ladies. She and Robin—they’d understood one another. And now, she understood the way Robin’s somber expression faded into an almost bewilderment.

Marian blushed, and looked away.

“I’m to be wed,” she said quietly.

“Oh?” She could hear the frown in Rob’s voice. “To whom?”

“It isn’t settled yet,” she said. “Hubert de Burgh.”

Robin didn’t reply and when Marian chanced a glance at her, she found that Robin was looking away from her now too, out over the garden with its roses and apple tree, biting her lip in thought.

“Is it a good match?” Robin asked. It was as if there were a wall between them, or a moat, or a forest—distance that there never had been before, not even when they hadn’t seen one another in years.

“Queen Berengaria thinks so,” she said. “He holds favor with Prince John and King Richard both.”

Robin’s face went grim as she looked back at Marian. She opened her mouth, then closed it. “I hope he treats you well, and I hope he treats his people better.”

“I’m sure he—”

“Don’t be,” Robin growled. “Don’t assume he treats them well. No one with power ever does.”

“Do you, Lady Huntington?” Marian asked, for she could not help herself.

“What little I can,” Robin replied without hesitation. “But I’m just a fox in a large wood.” With plenty of John’s dogs to hunt you down, if you truly are stealing from him to bring Richard back. She paused and looked at Marian. “Even if King Richard returns, it’s his laws that John claims to be enforcing. There will still be work to be done, and people who will suffer under the weight of monarchy. We can only hope that a more honorable ruler will see their suffering and call for change, but we cannot know that he will.”

Marian felt her brows knit all on their own as she took Rob’s hand and squeezed it. “Be careful,” she whispered. “Please.” This could well turn to treason, if it hasn’t already.

Rob gave her an odd look and she felt her fingertips brush over the calluses on Marian’s palm. She felt calluses on Robin’s own.

“Remember me, and I shall try,” she said, and it was the easiest request Marian had ever agreed to.

 

—

 

“And what brings you to the area, Lady Huntington?” Queen Berengaria asked as she cut into her venison.

“My holdings are a little to the north,” Robin replied. “Loxley, on the other side of Sherwood.”

“I hope you had no trouble in Sherwood,” Berengaria said darkly. Her fingers were still bare of the rings that she so liked to wear, but she had donned a golden necklace for the day.

“The king’s woods were quiet,” Robin replied and turned to Crophill. “Your wardens keep the wood very clear, my lord.”

“Would that he could cut out bandits as he can underbrush,” Queen Berengaria huffed. “But I’m sure your sheriff will make good work of them.”

“Sheriff?” Will Scarlet asked, though something in his tone made Marian rather suspect he was already well aware of the Sheriff of Nottingham. “Is there a new sheriff in Nottingham?”

“Oh yes,” Crophill replied jovially. “Newly appointed. I am quite confident that he’ll be able to take care of our little outlaw problem quite efficiently. Indeed, he has already begun to do so.”

“We must live in hope,” Robin said and if Marian had not known her well, she wouldn’t necessarily have noted the hint of dryness in Rob’s voice. “Though I will confess, it does distress me to hear how he treated my friend the friar’s church. Is that how the holy are treated in Nottingham?”

“We have already had words, the good friar and I,” the Lord Mayor said with a simper.

“You had words,” Friar Tuck corrected grumpily. “I was hardly given a chance to speak.”

The Lord Mayor flushed and looked from the friar to the queen and then back to Robin.

“Well, I don’t see why you can’t speak over dinner,” Robin said, cutting into her meat with an easy smile. “I’m sure the queen would be quite curious as to what you’ve endured at Nottingham’s hand, what alms you were gathering to help the poor taken for Prince John’s taxes.”

“I’m sure the queen is more concerned with knowing what is being done about Robin Hood,” Berengaria said, “and why your men and this new sheriff seem unable to locate him.”

“Yes,” Robin said, leaning back in her chair and sitting up straighter. “Why is it that you and your sheriff have had such trouble locating Hood and his men? Do you have need of aid from Loxley?” Robin’s voice was almost innocent, and she ignored the way that Will Scarlet and Friar Tuck were sharing glances at her elbows.

Crophill bristled. “I’m quite sure that I should be able to handle the rascal all by myself, thank you.”

“Can you?” Berengaria asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because from your own mouth, you’ve said that Robin Hood’s band of merry men seems to be growing by the day.”

“Truly?” Will Scarlet asked, sounding thoroughly amused. “I’d heard that in order to join Robin Hood’s men, you had to defeat him in single combat. He must be very tired if he’s gaining men daily if that’s the case. I’m surprised your sheriff hasn’t been able to find him.”

“Well, give a shout if you need anything,” Robin said with her catlike smile. “My men will do what it takes to keep King Richard’s people safe from those who clamber for power in his absence.”

Marian bit back a gasp, though whether it was that Rob would be so bold in saying so, or that both Berengaria and Crophill would sit up straighter, and smile, and say, “Thank you, Lady Huntington. Your generosity does you credit,” just like that, she did not know.

Rob’s eyes twinkled when next she looked at Marian.

Marian sucked her lips between her teeth, trying not to smile.

The desire to do so completely left her when Robin said, “Now, about Friar Tuck’s church. I’m sure that the sheriff was doing all he could to smoke out that rascal Hood, but stealing from the church? Preventing the good Friar from protecting his flock from hunger and sickness? That feels cruel, even for a servant of Prince John.”

“Now hang on a moment,” Crophill said angrily. “When you put it like that—”

“And how would you put it, my lord? The sheriff stole alms in the name of taxes.”

“Prince John has every right to claim taxes—”

“Not from the church,” cut in Friar Tuck. “Not from any church, not from my church.”

“This is very fine!” Berengaria said loudly, looking at Marian with the sort of expression that so plainly said you will help me change the topic of discussion that Marian could not pretend she didn’t understand. “From the wood, I assume, my lord?”

“Yes,” Crophill said, his eyes narrowed. “My hunters shot it just yesterday.”

“Tender,” Robin said happily, taking another bite of venison and humming with delight at it. “Your table is lucky to be so graced. Especially with such fine company.” She inclined her head to Queen Berengaria and Marian.

“And your own presence, I’m sure,” Crophill said, sounding a good deal more grumpy now than he had when Robin had promised the support of Loxley.

“Oh, but I am not so fine a lady as these,” Rob replied with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t ask you to bely yourself by saying so either. I’m neither pretty nor graceful. Quite a poor daughter, I’ve frequently been told.”

“Perhaps you should listen to the statement and adjust,” Crophill said at the same time that Queen Berengaria said, “But you have such fine features, Lady Robin. Please don’t say that you aren’t pretty. I’m sure if you put the work in, you would be as beautiful as our Maid Marian.”

Rob’s gaze turned to Marian and her expression softened again. “No one is so pretty as our Maid Marian.” Marian’s face heated and she looked down at her plate modestly.

“De Burgh will be quite delighted, I’m sure,” Crophill said jovially.

“He won’t know how lucky he is,” Robin agreed and there was a tinge of sadness to her voice.

“I’m quite sure that he would,” Crophill replied, clearly still annoyed at Robin.

“My lord mayor, you don’t know Marian as well as I, so how could you possibly know what I know about her that De Burgh would or wouldn’t know?”

“I think,” Berengaria said with a raised eyebrow, “You can’t possibly know Marian better than me, Lady Huntington?”

“Of course not,” Rob said, but there was no way she was telling the truth from her tone. “I knew her but for a few months when we were girls. You’ve known her as a woman at court. The two are not the same.”

And yet you know me, Marian thought as she looked into Rob’s eyes. And I know you. You seem to know me better than Berengaria does.

Why is that?

And she remembered the feeling of rotten apple in her hair, of Rob’s laughter as she’d flung mud at her and shrieking that she’d pay, of the two of them holding hands as they walked through the courtyard together, talking—not of the lords they would marry—but the knights they could become if they would and what songs would be sung of their bravery.

You became one in the end.

And Rob’s eyes bored into her, making her throat go dry once again, seeming to demand, and whatever became of you, Lady Lionheart? What will become of you?

—

 

“It’s late and dark. You must stay the night,” Crophill said to Robin as dinner was cleared away. His gaze was cool, and clearly he had not forgotten the jabs that Robin had made earlier.

“I won’t impose upon your hospitality, not while you host our fair queen and Marian,” Robin said as she led Will Scarlet and Friar Tuck towards the night.

“But the outlaws in the woods!” Queen Berengaria protested.

“We don’t have anything they could want,” Robin shrugged. “No jewels or favor with the local lords.” She said it so lightly that Crophill could only bristle at the words. “I’m sure I shall be safe.”

“If you insist,” Crophill said, his brow dark and he turned away without another word. “Your majesty.” He offered Queen Berengaria his arm.

Marian followed Rob and the others out of the keep and towards the stable.

“You’ll want to be careful,” she said. “He may seem a fool, but Crophill will remember the slight.”

“Good,” Rob said. “Let him.”

“Don’t you care for your own safety?” she asked.

“I’m safe,” Robin replied. “So long as the title Huntington follows me, I’m plenty safe for all I do. It’s Crophill’s people who aren’t safe, who are stolen from, who are cared for less than the woods themselves. Surely you must see that.”

She sounded as though she needed Marian to see it, as though she would be heartbroken if Marian said anything else.

“I do,” she whispered. “But I still fear that I’ll see you hanging from a noose the way they both so want you to.”

Robin gave her a crooked smile and leaned forward, her breath hot against Marian’s face. For one wild moment, Marian thought she was going to kiss her. “They’ll have to catch me first, won’t they? And the thing is—Crophill can send his sheriff after me for all I care—I still know his woods and people better than he does.”

And without another word, Rob turned away, mounted her horse in a single fluid motion, and tipped her cap to Marian before riding off into the darkness. Marian watched her go, staring out into the night long after Robin had melted into the shadows and starlight.

 

—

 

Nottingham was quiet for nearly a fortnight. Marian ate apples and played backgammon with the queen. She did her best not to look to the wood beyond the village for to do so would make her wonder about Robin and she was trying so hard not to wonder about Robin.

Wondering about Robin, she found, set her stomach into several kinds of knots that she didn’t particularly want to think about. She didn’t want to think about Robin’s smile, or the way the green of her eyes made her feel as though she somehow spoke for the woods. She certainly didn’t want to think about her easy, lilting, almost fox-like gait, or the way her hands were callused from what Marian could only assume was her bow.

And she certainly didn’t want to think about the tanner, and the king’s laws, and the king’s wood.

She managed a whole two weeks of preventing herself from thinking about it before it became unavoidable.

“They’ve caught him!”

“They’ve caught him?”

“They’ve caught Robin Hood!”

But they can’t have. Robin’s not a man.

It should have been comforting, but it wasn’t, especially not with Hannah clucking her approbation and Queen Berengaria saying, “I want the rascal dead by morning!”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” said the man with greasy blond hair and an unctuous tone. “We shan’t tarry, fear not.”

“Thank you, sheriff,” the queen said.

“I told you he was good, didn’t I?” Crophill said with delight. “I told you he would get him.”

“And my jewels?” the queen asked.

“No sign of them yet, Your Majesty,” the sheriff said, “But I am sure that once we’ve cut off the head of the snake, the rest of the creature will die too.”

“Good,” Berengaria said.

Marian did her best not to let her face move at all. She tried not to let it move all morning, all through lunch, and all the way down to the town square where the sheriff had promised Crophill that Robin Hood would be hung by the neck until dead.

“A poacher, and a scoundrel—an outlaw through and through,” Crophill said over and over again as they approached the square. Marian’s heart was thudding in her chest. What would she do if she saw Rob up there? What would she think if she saw her lose her life? She had wept at the tanner losing his hand and the boy had meant nothing to her.

Rob meant something to her—had always meant something to her.

Would dying for them be worth it? she implored Rob silently, but even as she thought the words, she knew Rob’s answer would be yes.

Why wouldn’t it be for you, Marian? Don’t you care?

That thought made her angry. Of course she cared. Of course she did. Then do something.

“There he is,” smiled the sheriff, pointing to the scaffold.

Except there he wasn’t, for the man with his hands tied before him was the same huge blond man she’d seen walking with Robin when first she’d seen her in Nottingham.

Relief flooded her.

Except that’s Rob’s friend.

What could I do, though?

She looked at Queen Berengaria, who was staring at the man with the sort of fervent hunger that lived in those who felt wronged and were about to see justice done on their behalf. Marian looked at Hannah and saw someone who was complacently content that things were proceeding as they should. She looked at Crophill and saw pride that he—or his men—had caught the culprit.

And beyond Crophill, she saw Rob standing in the shadows with a longbow in hand, wearing a cloak that shrouded her face, but how could Marian not know it was her? She only needed to see Rob’s pointed chin to know that it was her.

Rob lifted a single finger and pressed it to her lips. Quiet.

And exhilaration flooded Marian.

“Robin Hood,” began the sheriff, reading the condemnation from a scroll of parchment, but Marian wasn’t paying attention. Her gaze went from Robin to the man on the scaffold, to Friar Tuck who was sitting near the gate of town with a wagon full of hay, his tonsure shining in the sun. She saw Will Scarlet with a longbow and dressed all in red, a lute slung at his back as well. “—and shall be hung from the neck until dead,” the sheriff concluded. “Executioner.” He inclined his head at the brawny man standing to the side of the scaffold. The noose was placed around the man’s neck. Marian looked back at Robin, who was beginning to nock an arrow to her bowstring, and then—

—Marian let out a sob and collapsed to the ground.

“Marian!” Hannah said. “Oh Marian, my dear, my poor dear.”

“What’s happened,” Crophill barked as a twanging sound filled the air and there was a sound of something heavy hitting the ground.

“He’s getting away!” bellowed the sheriff, and Marian did her best to sit up, feigning a shakiness, pretending to gulp down air.

“I’m all right,” she said feebly, as she watched Rob and Will Scarlet and the blond man pelt their way through the crowd towards the friar’s waiting wagon. “I just—death is so much for me.”

“After him!” the sheriff was shouting, and Crophill was looking between Marian and Queen Berengaria whose face was twisted in outrage at having been denied the justice she felt she was owed.

“After him at once,” Crophill said. “And get her out of here. If she’s too weak to handle an execution, why ever did she come?”

“Come, my dear,” Hannah said, helping Marian up as Queen Berengaria began to complain loudly of Crophill’s incompetence, and shrieked that the king would know of it and Marian let herself be steered away from the mayhem.

When they reached the castle, she looked back out over the village and beyond to the hills and wood. She thought she saw a cloud of dust rising along the road ahead of a dozen horses. They won’t catch them, she knew somehow. Once they were in the trees, they knew the king’s terrain better than the king’s men ever could.

 

—

 

It was surprisingly simple in the end, making her stomach unknot.

She waited until everyone was asleep, then got dressed, her shortsword at her hips. The leggings she stole from one of Crophill’s squires and the tunic from a guardsman. She wrapped a length of cloth around her chest; it hurt and she didn’t manage to make her chest wholly flat but hopefully whoever would see her in the darkness would think it was just muscle. Then she tied her hair into a tight braid and tucked it under a cap, and went out into the night.

She walked quickly, her hand resting on her sword. The night was dark and full of shadows and she’d never been out alone in it. It was exhilarating, to see the stars shining overhead, to hear the weight of tree branches in the wind and to know that it was unlikely she’d be stopped. Guardsmen carried torches and she could see them enough in the distance.

The wood was peaceful when she reached it an hour later, her feet starting to get sore in her leather boots. There was no sign of life as she made her way through the trees. You’re a fool, how will you find them?

Water.

Because if there were no wells in the wood, then Robin’s men would have to drink.

She found a river and on a whim went right. This is a fool’s errand, she thought. If the sheriff’s men found her in the wood, would they shoot her on sight, assuming she was a poacher? Or would they at least arrest her and give her a chance to defend herself?

It didn’t matter, though, because up ahead was a bridge and on that bridge stood the tall blond man that Robin’s men had rescued that morning.

“Who goes there, friend?” the man called.

“I seek Robin Hood,” she replied evenly.

“A lot of people seek Robin Hood. Most are denied,” the man replied. “Especially when they come from—”

“Leave it, John.” Rob was standing there, leaning against a tree.

“But—” John replied.

“It’s all right,” she said and stepped forward, patting him on the shoulder. “Go rest. You’ve had a long day.”

John jutted his jaw out and a familiar voice rung through the trees. “If you get yourself killed after all this, Robin, I’ll kill you.”

“Thanks, Friar,” Robin replied easily. “If I do, make sure John doesn’t feel like he has to take extra guard duties just to prove he wasn’t upset at getting caught taking a shit, will you?”

“I wasn’t trying to prove—” John began, but Robin had already sidestepped him.

“What brings you here, friend?” Robin asked lightly. Can she see my face in the shadows?

“I’d heard that if I could beat you in combat, I could join you,” she said, her voice low. She didn’t know how close by the rest of them were. She doubted very much that they would have left Robin alone with a stranger. They were undoubtedly watching from the trees beyond.

“And why do you want to join me?” Robin asked. “It’s a harder life than the songs, being an outlaw. And the songs aren’t exactly kind about it.”

“Because the law doesn’t bring justice, and Prince John’s men take advantage of it to their own ends,” Marian replied, drawing her sword and stepping onto the bridge. “And I haven’t been practicing with this thing for years to never swing it once.”

Rob arched an eyebrow. Her face was so clear in the moonlight, surely she must recognize Marian. Would she make her duel?

“Very well,” Robin said and drew a sword from her own belt. “To first blood. I have no desire to take your life.”

“You won’t,” Marian replied, sinking into a stance.

When steel met steel, it echoed across the babbling brook, through the trees, and up to the stars overhead. It was the lightest of catches, the simplest of movements, but it was enough to make her realize: Robin was quick. I am too. But quick enough?

“I dueled John on a bridge too,” Robin said idly as their blades kissed again. “But it was with a staff. He’s a farmer’s son, and never had a sword. He knocked me clean into the water within three minutes. Do you think you can beat him?”

“I don’t care if you can beat him, just that you can’t beat me,” Marian replied. It was like their little games in the gardens, all those years before, except this time—she hoped—there would be no apple in her hair at the end of it.

“Probably a wise thing to wish,” Robin replied and her sword snaked forward, and Marian caught it with her hilt before sending it away again. “Your form is fascinating,” she added. “When you brought the sword out, I didn’t expect this.”

“I trained myself,” Marian replied.

“Oh? Castle-forged steel, but no master-at-arms to train you? You’re a strange one.”

“I could say the same of you,” Marian replied and suddenly Robin was much too close, and her sword was caught low at an odd angle as Robin forced it out and out and out. She moved her hilt back and forth, trying to disarm her but found she couldn’t.

“Many have said it of me for years,” Robin said quietly. Because of course they had—no one was ever like Robin. No one ever would be again.

“And they’ve been right,” Marian said, “But I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

“Oh?” Robin asked and once again, she was much too close—so close that Marian could feel the heat of her just a hair’s breadth away.

“Clearly, or else I wouldn’t be here, would I?”

“So you come for me and not for the vision?” Robin’s smirk was so catlike, and it was almost enough to disarm her but it didn’t. Instead, she danced back across the bridge, getting more space and squaring her footing once again.

“Would the vision exist without you?” Marian asked. “Would any of your merry men have banded together if you weren’t there to hold them to your side? Or would it just be tanner’s boy, losing a hand, farmer’s son losing a life, over and over while the woods know only the king’s mastery and Nottingham’s tyranny and loses all its life?”

“The woods don’t live,” Robin said wryly, springing forward once again.

“They cannot be wild, and I can’t speak for the trees or the deer, but the most alive I’ve ever felt has been when I don’t feel the yoke of anyone’s expectations, much less the king’s.”

They danced, and the ringing of their swords was the music. Robin stepped forward and Marian stepped back, then Marian forward and Robin back. Sometimes they twisted towards the river, sometimes towards the wood, but they were evenly matched. At least, Marian thought they were. It would have surprised her if Robin were toying with her. Or at least—it wouldn’t have surprised her if Robin were toying with Marian, but she doubted she’d do it to a strange page who’d stumbled upon her in the night.

Owls hooted. Off in the distance she heard the sound of a lute being played, and some small laughter.

“Your men celebrate,” she panted. She was getting tired. For all her drills and practicing, she’d never gone on this long, and never with another fighter to press her.

“We had a victory today,” Robin replied. She was panting too, and that, at least, made Marian feel a little better.

“Did you?” Marian asked, playing dumb.

“Oh yes, we saved Little John’s life,” Robin said with a smile. “A team effort, the likes of which we rarely encounter, for every man played his part.”

“And woman,” Mairan said.

She’d meant Robin, of course. She’d meant the well placed arrow through the hangman’s rope, but the comment so disarmed Robin that her sword went flying into the river with a heavy splash and the two of them stood there, silent, for a long while, or perhaps barely more than a second. It was hard to really gauge time when Robin was looking at her like that, breathless and sweaty, and even harder to calculate it after the fact for Robin’s lips were pressed against hers, soft and warm, her arms wrapping around Marian, holding her close—firm and tight and strong. Marian had never been kissed like this before. The sneaking pecks she’d gotten from shy apprentices paled in comparison to the hungry way that Robin’s mouth moved against hers, the heat that seemed to emanate from her stomach all the way to the tips of her toes at her very touch.

“You saved Little John’s life,” Robin whispered. “And mine.”

“You would have gotten away,” Marian replied quietly. Her sword was still in her hands, but it hung loosely at her side.

“Mayhaps,” Robin replied. “I doubt it though. The chaos was our ally, and you brought it to our side.” She kissed her again, and this time it was a slower kiss. Slower and yet somehow deeper, and Marian sighed and lost herself to the feeling of it. This is sin, she thought. But for some reason, the thought had less power over her than it once might have. She found she couldn’t dwell on it too long as she let her sword fall to the bridge below and rested her hands on Robin’s hips.

“Did you know it was me?” she asked later when they were strolling towards the firelight of Robin’s encampment.

“Yes,” Robin replied.

“Then why did you make me duel?”

Robin shrugged. “You seemed intent to, and who was I to deny you?”

Marian rolled her eyes. “You’re a tease, Robin Hood.”

“But an earnest one,” and Robin kissed her again, and then called out, “Lads, we have a lady in our number now. Welcome the wonderful Maid Marian.”