hit,” Little John announced, grinning around a fat lip and swollen cheek of his own. “Dropped him like a stone.”
“Not everyone is built like a bear,” Alan said absently, crouching by Marian and peering at her face. He looked so intent that for a brief second, Marian had a flash of panic—but then she registered the feel of linen on her face and knew her mask was still there.
Marian licked her dry lips, looking from one man to the other, confusion still turning her thoughts to sludge. “Did you—carry me?”
“A ways.” John grinned again.
Slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour, Marian thought, grimacing as she experimentally flexed her abdominal muscles. She could not tell which had done more harm, being punched in the gut or being draped carelessly over the giant’s shoulders. “Thank you.”
“We’re not all that far from where we started.” Alan spoke quietly, but without any hint of fear. “They’ve gone.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because they followed me half to Locksley by the time I lost them, that’s how.”
Marian finished sitting up, propping herself on one arm while making sure her hood was in place with the other. She looked around, blinking at the dim forest for long moments before she realized it wasn’t wooziness dimming the landscape—the sun had set.
She started with a muffled cry and began struggling to her feet.
“Whoa,” said John, raising both of his large hands in an appeasing gesture. “Calm, Robin. You’re with friends.”
“I must go,” Marian muttered, drawing back and looking wildly about, as if she might spy Jonquille lurking in the twilight nearby. By now, Marian’s absence from Nottingham Castle wouldn’t just be noticed—it’d be everywhere. Gisborne could already be back, already know Will had escaped, and already know Marian had vanished shortly thereafter. . . .
“Leave him, John,” Alan said, as John made a sideways movement to intercept Marian. “He’ll fall down in a few steps anyway, and then you can carry him again.”
Marian tried to suck in a deep breath, found her lungs still ached, and burst into a fit of coughing. They were right. She was in no shape to go tearing through Sherwood, on foot or on horseback, in the dark. But more important, she’d still have to explain where she’d been if she made it back.
Marian sank back down onto the ground, hunching over until she could rest her head in her hands.
“Easy,” Alan said, voice a little gentler. “John spoke the truth. You’re with friends.”
Marian looked from one man’s face to the other, their twin expressions full of triumph. They’d stood up to the Sheriff—his men, anyway—and won.
She knew the feeling well. It was the hot satisfaction that had shot through her when she’d realized she’d freed Will, and it was the warmth creeping over her now. “I’m sorry that Gisborne believed you to be one of my men.”
“I’m not.” Little John clasped his hands on his lap and grinned. “We were already outlaws. But now we’re Robin o’ Hood’s men.”
“Merry men,” Alan muttered, sounding a bit sour. “Gisborne called me ‘merry.’ How is that meant to be awe-inspiring, in the centuries to come when our tale is told and retold?”
John, undaunted by Alan’s dismay, went on. “I’ve always said Alan and I are still here because we’ve got each other’s backs, don’t sell each other out for the bounty. But you—you’ve got all Nottingham’s back.”
Marian’s eyebrows lowered, and she blinked at him.
Alan saw her hesitation and snorted. “You’re already developing a bit of a reputation, Lord . . . ahem.”
“Robin will do,” she murmured cautiously, still frowning.
“Robin, then.” Alan made a sweeping, dramatic gesture. “Come back to his people in their time of greatest need! Unafraid to shed the comforts of his station and live like the lowest of us! Willing to stand against the unjust laws of the land!”
“I haven’t done anything,” Marian protested, voice a bit faint.
“I beg to differ.” The voice came from the darkness, so abruptly that Alan leaped to his feet, a knife appearing in his hand. John swore. Before Marian could react, however, Alan let out a yell and dropped his knife, and threw himself at the shadowy figure.
Marian staggered to her feet before she realized Alan was embracing the man, not attacking him. John let out a whoop, and it wasn’t until she heard the newcomer laugh that she recognized him, like the sound had unlocked some distant memory.
Will.
“How’d you get out?” Alan was asking, holding the boy at arm’s length and inspecting his features