Lion Heart (8 page)

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No. I believe John will act with pride and honor. But I recognize the temptation. I pushed his brothers to rebel against their father, after all. The night before you are crowned is the last full night of sleep you ever get—everyone who has even a loose claim will take their chance to end your reign and with it, your life. The key is not to give them an opportunity, and the only thing that I will agree upon is that this is an opportunity. But I won't lose either of my sons to it.”

I swallowed. For now, it were enough. I nodded, once.

“But I also won't lose my granddaughter. So I will send you to Ireland.”

“
Eleanor
—” I started.

She held up a hand. “No. You cannot go to France, because whether or not you're right, John has friends in France. It's the first place he'd turn to for armies for a rebellion. And you wouldn't be able to hide there. I can't get you safely to any of
my daughters, so I'll send you to Ireland. It's close, and you can be safe there until this mess blows over.”

“Eleanor, no,” I snapped. “I'm not fleeing the country!”

Her hand fell to fold into her other. “Really. He will kill you, Marian.” Her throat worked, and she looked up, blinking fast. “Do you know how many of my children I have already buried?” she asked me, her voice a harsh whisper. “I have yet to bury a grandchild. Do not ask me to do this. Go willingly, or I will find a way to make you.”

I glanced at David, her chosen arm. He looked between us, unsure. Would he be loyal to me or Eleanor, given the chance?

She looked to Margaret. “Margaret, fetch my letters,” she told her. Margaret dipped and ran off to obey her, and Eleanor's white throat worked, sharp wrinkles filling and falling. “I have letters from your father. A pardon for your crimes, and a letter of creation. Technically the creation was for Gisbourne, but it falls to you in his death.”

I blinked at her. “Creation?”

“Of title,” she said. “The king has the ability to bestow and revoke titles. It was the only way he could make you inherit an earldom as a woman.”

“I know what a creation is, Eleanor. Richard—my father—pardoned me?” I asked.

She nodded. “I wrote to him the moment you were imprisoned. I had it for months, but John wouldn't admit you were alive. And if you're not alive, you can't be released.” She came closer to me, skating her hands over my arms. “I told you. He has always looked after your welfare, even when you didn't know your true lineage. He has always thought of you, Marian. Your father is an excellent man.”

I looked into her eyes. “I'm sorry, Eleanor, but I cannot leave. I can't just . . . go.”

“Think of your sheriff,” she told me. “If you stay, your Robin will find you. He will stand for you against my son. And he will fall, like your friend fell. He will bleed for you, and he will die.”

I pulled away from her.

He will die
.

Rob's face, frozen like John Little's, with shock and sudden knowing, like he could see Death creeping toward him over my shoulder.

He will die.

Blood running out of Rob like a swollen spring river gone red.

He will die.

Rob's blood staining the snow, staining the stones in the courtyard, staining my eyes.

“Lady Scar,” Allan said, stepping toward me with a frown.

I scuttled back. “I'll go. I'll go,” I breathed.

“My lady,” Allan said, his shoulders dropping. “It's the very wrong direction.”

“But she's right,” I told him, feeling water fill my eyes. “She's right. And I won't watch him die.”

Eleanor nodded, coming nearer to me and blocking out my view of Allan. She clasped my shoulders and brought me closer, leaning her forehead against mine, and I shut my eyes, feeling the water slip down my cheeks.

CHAPTER

“She's playing you like the strings of a damn harp!” Allan snapped at me, taking my things out of the satchel as I tried to fill it up.

“Stop that!” I yelled at him, slapping his hands.

“Ireland?” he said. “I'm
from
Ireland! Why do you think I came here?” he said. “Nothing good in Ireland.” He frowned. “Except the ale. The ale is fine.”

“Do you wish me to detain him, my lady?” asked David, watching with a scowl and crossed arms.

“No, David, thank you,” I told him. “Allan, really,” I said, snatching a dress back.

“And what are you going to do with that?” he asked. “A dress. A fancy present from Eleanor to buy your silence!”

“You wish to speak to me of dramatics?” I asked, pushing him back from my things. He were right—they were almost all
gifts Eleanor had given me in the last day. I'd never owned much of anything in my life. “People will die if I stay here!”

“What makes you think they won't if you go?” Allan demanded.

I looked to David, and he lifted an eyebrow.

“If Prince John doesn't know I'm alive, he won't go after Rob. He'll leave Nottingham alone. He has no reason to bother.”

“Oh, you're quite right. He's had so many excellent
reasons
in the past,” Allan said, flouncing about with a cloak. “I'll starve the people because they're quite bothersome. I'll murder Gisbourne because he's ceased to be useful. And in fact—I shall cut off your fingers because you annoyed me and I don't know how to talk about my feelings,” he mocked.

David stood. “You will not make a joke of my lady's pain,” he said.

I pulled the cloak from Allan, and David stepped between us, staring Allan down. Allan met his challenging eye contact with a devilish smile, not breaking away.

David gave him a good solid push back, and Allan went, still smiling at David.

David shook his head.

“I won't go with you,” Allan told me.

I scowled. “No one asked you to come.”

He looked offended in a rather dire way. “Who will entertain you?”

David snorted, and Allan frowned at him.

I pulled up another dress, and tucked it into the satchel. Beneath it were the stack of letters, and the sight of them sliced into my belly like a knife.

Allan didn't have to be quick to snatch these from me. I were staring at them, and he picked them up, turning them over. “You haven't opened a one,” he said.

“No,” I said, my mouth going dry.

“So that's it, then,” he said soft. “You don't want him anymore. The greatest love story I've ever had the chance to tell, and you're throwing him away.” His head tilted. “In fact, why don't we just do that,” he said, going to the window.

“Allan!” I yelled, diving for him as he pushed the shutter open. “Allan, don't!”

I grabbed one arm, jerking it back and slamming my knee into his bits. He wailed, falling back and curling dramatic onto the floor with a howl.

David were right behind me, crossing his arms and watching Allan writhe on the floor instead of assisting.

I took the letters, pressing them into the satchel and buckling the leather shut. I turned to Allan as he started to rise, weakly leaning on the wall. “You think this is easy? That I'm being cruel?” I snapped. “Maybe I am! But I'd rather love him for the rest of my life than love him now and lose him soon after.”

Even as the words left my mouth, they didn't feel true. Rob's and my love had always been made in the cracks, the jagged little edges that came from the ruin of something else. It were a place that weren't supposed to be filled with love, but
that's how it had always been. Our love filled the broken bits and made us whole again. There weren't no perfect time to love him, not ever, and it had always been with the threat of death and hurt hovering round us. And we'd love each other anyway. Sure, and true.

“You're giving up, my lady,” he told me.

“You don't understand,” I told him. I hefted the bag up, and David shook his head.

“Leave it there, my lady. I'll pack the horses,” David told me. “You go on.”

“Good-bye, Allan,” I told him.

He shook his head. “It's not good-bye, lady thief. I'll never believe that.”

I sighed. “David, I'm going to say my good-byes to the others.”

David nodded, and I went out of the room. I were in a skirt now, and I kicked at it as I walked down the hallway. I felt along my back; Eleanor had even purchased two knives for me, and I slid one out of my bodice. I turned it in my good hand. My stumps ached, but the fingers I had left were still sturdy for gripping things. I held the knife in my bad hand, squeezing it tight.

I could hold it. It were awkward, and painful, but I could hold it.

“You're a lady now,” Eleanor said, and I raised my head to see her down the hall. “You don't need knives, you know.”

Flipping it up, I caught it with my good hand. “Even a lady needs something sharp at her disposal,” I told her.

“That's what words are for.” She lifted a shoulder. “Or knights, perhaps.”

“You're not traveling with many,” I said.

“No,” she said. “Most are still covering the countryside, making announcements, assisting their lords. They are returning to me as fast as they can, but for now, we have enough.” She sighed. “I always like having more men about, but I'll make do.”

I nodded.

She waved me into her chambers, and Margaret were there, beaming at me in her strange way, and she handed Eleanor a cloth. Eleanor took it, unwrapping the cloth, showing my moonstone.

“This was when I believed him,” she whispered to me. “That you were dead.”

I swallowed.

“Here,” she said, holding up the chain, and I bowed my head. She slipped it around my neck, and the weight settled down, finding the dip between my breasts. She looked at it and nodded. “Where it belongs.”

“Thank you, Eleanor,” I told her. I jerked forward, hugging her.

“There have been many sins between us, my girl,” she said, petting my back. “But family protects one another. I will always keep you safe.”

I pulled back. It were a finite promise, but I knew she meant it. “Bring my father back,” I told her. “I very much want to meet him.”

She smiled at this. “I cannot wait for that bright day, my girl.” She pressed her hand to my cheek. “Now, David will escort you to Bristol. There should be a ship within a day or two—by the end of the week at the very least—headed for Ireland. You can both buy passage and send word to me when you are met by Theobald Butler—he is far more loyal to me than he is to John, and he will protect you.” She handed me a letter. “This will explain everything to him.” She gave me two more papers, both with ribbons and seals flapping off. “These are your pardon and your creation,” she said.

Holding them against myself, I drew a breath. “Tell me that this is the right thing to do, Eleanor,” I whispered to her.

She raised her chin. “It is the only thing to do if you want to protect those you love,” she told me.

I sighed.

“Ladies,” Winchester said, coming to the open door and bowing to us.

“Winchester,” I said, smiling. “Thank you. For everything you've done for me.”

He didn't smile. “You're welcome. Of course.”

“Walk her down to the courtyard, won't you?” Eleanor asked Winchester. “We still have some packing to do. Margaret—stop simpering.”

Margaret flushed and turned back to her task.

“Where will you go next?” I asked her.

“Toward Cornwall,” she said. “Perhaps up toward Devizes Castle first, and then down to Cornwall. That way we can travel
all along the south coast.” Her mouth tilted up. “And I'll have an excuse to stop in Bristol and ensure that you're off all right.”

“Good-bye, Eleanor,” I told her.

She nodded once, her mouth pressed tight shut. She waved me off and turned away, and Winchester offered me his arm.