The Archer (The Blood Realm Series Book 3) (24 page)

Fresh tears welled up in Marian’s eyes. “No, please don’t apologize. I like that. I do.” She blinked and looked away, setting her jaw as hard as she could, but it was too late.
Dear gods, when did I become such a crybaby?

A hand settled on her shoulder, and for once, she didn’t shrug it off immediately, didn’t feel the need to snap at the person who dared such audacity. “Marian, your mother and father loved you. You must believe that.”

Marian didn’t look at her, wasn’t ready to look at her yet. “I used to believe that. But now…” She drew a finger down the string of her bow. “Ermentrude, do you think you can love someone for who they are even if you don’t
like
what they are? Even if what they are— Even if what you
think
they are…”

“You mean could your mother and father love you as their daughter even though you’re wild fey?”

Marian whirled around so fast she nearly fell off the bench, her arm flying up to clap a hand over the gardener’s mouth. Her heart lodged in her throat, and ice slid down her spine, freezing every nerve ending it passed. She held her head perfectly still, afraid to turn, afraid to look around for fear that she and Ermentrude would no longer be alone. Afraid that the gardener’s words would summon them, would weaken the spell just enough for them to find her.

“Don’t say that out loud.” Her voice was a rasp, but not from tears this time. This time, it was fear that tried to steal her voice, that scraped at her words until they were little more than a whisper. “Don’t ever say that again.”

Run. Run away now. Run, run, run.

The urge to flee seized her muscles, almost hurled her off the bench, flung her into the woods without conscious thought. It took her panicked brain a long minute to register the serenity on Ermentrude’s face, the calm that was unruffled by Marian’s reaction. There was no judgment there, no fear. Just the same sun-darkened face that had plagued Marian’s personal time for as long as she could remember.

Surprise took the edge off her fear, blunted it enough for her to see that they were still alone, that no one had come. She wanted to turn her focus inward, concentrate on the spell inside her, reassure herself that it was still there, still pulsing with power. But to do that would be to strain it, risk weakening it even further. Instead, she lowered her hand. “You… You know?”

Ermentrude nodded. “Of course I know. I told you, your family has been good to mine. For a very long time.”

“You’re… You’re…?” She didn’t say the word out loud, didn’t dare.

“Not me, no. Well, not really. There was a bit of that higher up my family tree, but it’s been quite watered down since then. I don’t have any more than a particular fondness for the outdoors. Even iron doesn’t bother me in the least.”

Marian’s mouth moved, but no sound came out.

Ermentrude sighed and took Marian’s hand in hers, sandwiching her palm between her own. “Lady Marian, your mother and father loved you. Perhaps they were a little afraid of your potential, a little too preoccupied that you might follow your birth parents’ footsteps. Maybe that made them a little too rigid with what they wanted for you. But never doubt that they loved you. That fear was
for
you. Never of you.”

“I disappointed them.” Marian clenched her teeth. Her voice was not a woman’s but a child’s, a little girl giving voice to the fear that she was not what her mom and dad had wanted.

“Love is complicated, Lady Marian. Your mother and father struggled to let go of their fears enough to see what was really best for you, and that was a shame for them. But don’t doubt for a moment that they want you to be happy. Whatever that means for you.”

Anger rose inside Marian like a dragon awakened to find its treasure is fool’s gold. “You don’t know that. You can’t know that.” She ripped her hand from Ermentrude’s grasp, glaring at the gardener as if she were the surrogate she’d spoken of being moments ago. “You can’t tell me they didn’t see what they were doing. That they never saw my face crumple when they couldn’t spare even a
word
of praise for my hunting. That they never saw how miserable I was in the fields, how much I
despised
being buried alive in the dirt. That they never heard me crying—”

Her voice wavered, threatened to break, and she snapped her mouth shut. Tears burned her eyes, but she didn’t care anymore.

Ermentrude’s eyes shone with her own tears. “Oh, Marian. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry!” Marian shot off the bench, threw herself into pacing. She stumbled over a small clump of flowers and stomped on the tiny white petals, grinding them into the ground. “Pity does me no good. Tell me why they did it. Why was it so blasted important that they plant me along with the harvest? That I be pulled from the forest I love?” She stopped pacing, glared at Ermentrude. “Say something!”

“You know why they did it,” she said quietly. “You know what they wanted to keep you from. Hunting—”

“It’s not all evil, it doesn’t
have
to be evil. I hunt
animals.
”

“You hunted at night. You know that was risky.”

“I never hunt on
that
night.” She clutched her bow to her chest, holding it like some sort of talisman against the wretched emotions attacking her with the same ferocity of any wild animal. “Besides that, the spell—”

Her eyes widened and she clapped a hand over her own mouth. Ermentrude tensed too, even though Marian knew she didn’t—couldn’t—know about the spell.

Stop thinking about it. Thinking about it too much will weaken it, might break it. Stop it, stop it, stop it…

Panic spiked. The more she tried not to think about it, the more it pressed against her consciousness. A tingle echoed from somewhere deep inside her, reverberating through her blood, rippling over her veins. A feeling she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge in decades. The tell-tale shiver of magic.

“Robin Hood seems to make you happy.”

Marian blinked, Ermentrude’s words almost lost in her state of near-hyperventilation. “What?”

“Robin Hood.” Ermentrude leaned forward, putting more stress on the words than they deserved. “You like him, he makes you happy. Do I need to play like one of the children? Sing you a little song about the boy who kissed you?”

Her voice was teasing but there was a weight to her gaze. A silent attempt to communicate something more.

She’s trying to distract you, you twit. Take the lifeline!

“Robin Hood, yes! I…” She twisted her hands on her bow, the wood groaning in protest. “I’m not sure there will be any more kisses forthcoming. In the short time I’ve known him, I’ve shot him, broken his ankle, and punched him in the face.”

The old gardener hummed her approval. “Always good to set the proper tone in the beginning. Fight for the respect you deserve, always.”

A laugh burst from Marian’s lips. The sound shattered the last of the tension holding her hostage, freed her so she could breathe again. Ermentrude smiled at her and she returned it wholeheartedly.

“You are a good friend, Ermentrude.”

The smile on the gardener’s face wilted. She looked away, but not before Marian noticed the stiffening in her shoulders, the melting of the camaraderie that had been slowly building between them. A slither of dread curled inside her stomach.

“Ermentrude? What’s wrong?”

The gardener spun so suddenly that Marian fell back a step, dropped her bow. She grabbed both of Marian’s hands in hers, brown eyes boring into her with frightening intensity. “You have to get out of here.”

“What?”

“The sheriff was here yesterday. Lady Marian, I didn’t want to tell him anything, but he threatened Patrick. He’s only a boy, and if he were locked up—”

“Wait, wait, slow down, it’s all right.” Ermentrude’s panic grated against her nerves, threatened the calm she’d only just found. “All right, the sheriff was here. That’s all right, I expected a visit.” She took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly through her nose. “I am not the only one to receive help from Robin Hood. The sheriff questions many of them, when he finds them, but he’s never done anything beyond that. There’s no need to panic.”

Ermentrude’s eyes welled up with tears and she clasped her hands together so tightly her skin mottled.

“What did you…tell him?” She had to force the words out, didn’t want to hear them herself.

“I told him…” Ermentrude’s voice broke and she had to clear her throat, try again. “I told him Robin kissed you. That he visited you in your chambers.”

The world tilted, nearly spilling Marian to the ground. She held tightly to Ermentrude’s hands as if they would center her, keep her from falling off the face of the earth.
No. No, no, no, no.

“Sheriff Mac Tyre’s hatred for Robin Hood is well known. And he is not ignorant of the otherworld. If he thinks there is more between you and Robin Hood than just the loan…”

“He’ll use me to get to Robin.” Marian groped for the bench, easing herself down before her shaking legs gave out. “Oh, Goddess, what if he had me followed?”

Ermentrude stiffened at the suggestion. Marian’s stomach sank further, bile coating the back of her throat. For the second time that evening, her head was frozen, unable to look from side to side for fear of what she might see. “He could be having me watched right now.”

“I haven’t seen anyone,” Ermentrude said quietly, barely moving her mouth.

“But you wouldn’t, not if they were spying on me. You wouldn’t see anyone or anything until it was too late.” The trees around the property suddenly took on an ominous menace, each one a potential hiding place. They could be behind the thick trunk of the oak in the opposite corner of the garden. They could be nestled amidst the towering rosebushes, tucked underneath the aromatic limbs of the cypress.

Get a hold of yourself. You are not prey—never prey.

Marian’s eyesight grew sharper as she slid into a hunter’s mindset, the cold, calculating study of her surroundings for the little details that would reveal her prey. She kept her head still, but slid her gaze back and forth, sweeping over her surroundings with a level of scrutiny beyond human sight.

You would find them easier if you would just let go a little more…

She shoved that thought away, sweat breaking out at her temples. No, she had already come far too close. For all she knew, she’d already weakened the sp—

Stop thinking about it!

“I can’t go to meet Robin tonight, not when they might follow me.” She retrieved her bow from the ground, giving in to the need to hold it, to reassure herself with its familiar lines. A moment later she scooped up her quiver and slung it onto her back, the welcoming weight of her arrows a powerful comfort. “And I cannot stay here either. Not if he might know…”
The sheriff will have no need for evidence or trials if he thinks I’m not human. He’ll lock me up, slap me in irons. I’ll be a prisoner for life. Or dead. Or…

“Now, now, we don’t even know for sure there’s anyone out there.” Ermentrude’s tone and the tension vibrating in her wide shoulders betrayed her assurance for the lie it was.

“I can’t take that risk.” She pounded a fist on her thigh. “If only there was someone who could get to Robin, warn him not to come looking for me.”

Ermentrude grabbed her hand, nearly scaring Marian clean out of her skin. “Maggie.”

“Who?”

“Maggie. Our cook. Maybe she can help.”

“How?”

“She’s always leaving out offerings for the wee ones. Perhaps she’ll know of some way to get a message to your beau.”

Marian frowned at the reference to Robin as her beau, but now wasn’t the time to argue such things. Besides, she was having a difficult time processing the burgeoning realization that the people she’d been hiding her true self from for so long seemed rather more comfortable with fey than she could have imagined.

“Go, go ask Maggie,” Ermentrude urged her. “I’ll stay here and watch to make sure you’re not followed.”

Marian nodded finally. It was a better plan than she had. The only plan she had. It took more effort than she wanted to admit not to make a run for the house, but then that would put anyone watching her on instant alert.

Stay calm. Everything is going to be all right.

If only she could believe that.

Chapter Seventeen

“Marian is coming to see you with a will o’ wisp.”

Robin went still, the fingers that had been coaxing a new string onto his bow growing stiff.

“Come back tomorrow night. I will give you my answer then.”

It was time then. His stomach clenched, his mind churning with the subject he’d struggled with most of the night. Release her back into the life that was draining the spirit out of her? Or drag her kicking and screaming into a new one? He abandoned his work on the bow, setting it on the small hand-carved table beside his chair. He had no idea what he was going to say to her.

Wait a minute…

He frowned and looked up at Little John. The bear shifter stood with his thick arms crossed over his chest, filling the small frame and blocking most of the light trying to illuminate the small quarters Robin claimed as his own. It was difficult to see him properly in the dimness, especially with the only light source at his back, but Robin could make out that his friend had one thick brown eyebrow arched in a depressingly familiar silent accusation.

“She’s coming here?”

Little John nodded.

Confusion pulled Robin’s brows together and helped distract him from his conundrum. “But she doesn’t know how to get here. And I was under the impression she didn’t fraternize with fey, so what on earth is she doing traveling with a will o’ wisp?”

“That’s a good question. And here’s another one. Why are there two wolves following her? One silver and one brown and white.”

Robin drummed the fingers of his right hand on the arm of his chair. It was a flimsy piece of furniture, its simple construction hinting at a temporary purpose. The rap of his fingernails was loud in the small room. “Two wolves, you say? Silver and brown?”