against the unfairness of poverty—whatever caused Seild to act, she would be forever changed.
“Thank you, my Lord,” she said quietly. “Be well.”
Marian withdrew to find Owen’s purple face twitching with rage, an anger that suddenly made Marian’s heart quail—for while she and her men could vanish safely into the forest, Seild could not.
Marian threw her bow to Alan and drew her sword, advancing upon Owen. “I will not tolerate injustice of any kind,” she said quietly, though her voice was as hard as the steel in her hand. “Whether it be the disdain of a government for the welfare of its people or that of a husband for his wife. My men are everywhere. I have the love of Nottingham’s people and a reach far longer than that of Gisborne or his Sheriff. If you touch her in anger, I will know about it. And I will return, and this time I will take from you something far more valuable than gold.”
Owen’s face was still distorted with fury, but Marian saw something else there that quickened her pulse: fear. She could not help the flicker of satisfaction that came with that.
They took great care binding Owen’s hands to the carriage, and when Marian made certain the ropes would not budge, they cut the driver free. They gave him instructions to wait half an hour before releasing the others, a time frame Marian knew would drop to mere minutes once they were gone and Owen started shouting orders.
But minutes were all they needed to melt back into the forest that had so utterly masked their ambush.
Marian signaled to the others to continue on back to their camp, sheathing her sword and retrieving her bow from Alan. He hesitated but did as Robin commanded—Marian watched them disappear, then turned to creep back toward the site of their victory.
As expected, the driver had released Owen and the guards, and the Lord was like a sullen bear, snapping at his men to find the horses—and the two guards who’d fled with them. Marian watched as the horses and errant guards were led back, Owen’s angry humiliation weighing heavily on her heart. When he turned toward the carriage and shouted unintelligibly, Marian nearly whispered aloud, Don’t go to him.
But Seild had little choice when faced with a direct order from Owen, and she emerged from the carriage. At this distance, Marian could not hear what she said, though her lifted chin spoke of defiance.
Instinct, some tiny current of premonition, prompted Marian to act even as Owen raised his hand.
The arrow was silent, no telltale whistle to warn of its approach. Its point pierced Owen’s hand in the dead center of his palm, causing the man to stagger back and fall with a howl of surprise and pain, clutching his wrist with his good hand.
The guards had all drawn their swords and were scanning the thickets around them with obvious fear, and the driver of the carriage had retreated into its interior. Only Seild stood unmoved—she’d been braced for the blow. Now she turned to scan the forest, eyes moving right past where Marian lay concealed. She kept scanning until a particularly agonized groan at her feet drew her attention back, and after a moment, she stooped to tend to her wounded husband.
Marian waited until they were underway once more, then slipped away to double back to the campsite.
She’d expected to find the others celebrating—she’d noticed that John had liberated a cask of wine along with the rest of their loot. But she heard only silence as she approached, until she got close enough to hear hushed voices.
One of them belonged to Alan, but the other was young and high, a voice that sounded strangely familiar.
“But there must be a catch,” Alan was saying as Marian approached.
“The catch is that they want to reveal who he is,” the voice replied.
“If he were to win—and you know he could—they’d be forced to pardon him. It wouldn’t matter if they knew who he was, they couldn’t arrest him.”
“And you think this Robin Hood would be content then? To take his prize and settle back into his life as . . . what? Disgraced nobility? No, he’d go back to this life sooner or later, and the Sheriff would have the advantage of knowing who he was.”
Marian was on her feet, ready to melt away into the forest, but the familiarity of that voice stopped her. She stood, poised, heart pounding, until Will appeared from the forest with a