I stared back at him.
“You are a noble lady, and a wife. If you continue such flagrant disregard for my royal authority, I will punish you and my forgiveness will be beyond your reach. I strongly encourage you to cleave to your husband, be a good little girl and be dutiful and pious in all things. And Gisbourne, you might want to think about how the behavior of your wife reflects on your authority. Particularly the authority provided by certain positions?” he said, raising his eyebrows.
Gisbourne made some kind of a grunt.
Prince John smiled. “Now, Lady Leaford, you may kiss my ring and go.”
Kiss my ring—like he were the damn king. He weren’t even his brother’s heir, only third in line to the throne, and he could sit here like a monarch. I stood still, but Gisbourne’s fingers caught my elbow to drag me up and were grinding the bones like he were trying to make bread with them.
Finally I stood and stepped forward, kneeling before the prince to kiss the Angevin seal imprinted in gold.
He smiled at me, but all I saw were teeth.
Gisbourne dragged me out into the antechamber. As soon as we were there he raised his hand to hit me again and I slammed my good hand into his throat and my knee into his bits. “Don’t you ever strike me,” I snarled at him.
De Clare were still there and he strode over to me, grabbing my injured hand and squeezing. A scream bubbled up but I shut my mouth and it came out a yelp. He did it harder, twisting, and I fell.
“Trash,” he spat at me. “How dare you hit a lord!”
Gisbourne were grunting but I couldn’t even see him. De Clare squeezed again and I couldn’t stop the scream from coming.
The door burst open with Winchester filling it, but it weren’t needed. Gisbourne had his sword out, and I were fair shocked to see it weren’t pointed at me.
“Unhand her,” he rumbled.
Winchester crossed his arms as de Clare stared at Gisbourne. “I was helping you give the little bitch what she deserves!” de Clare said, his fingers still mashed in my broken hand.
“She is a lady of the court,” Winchester told him.
He dropped my hand, and one of the knights caught me up before I fell. Lot of good they were when he were squeezing.
“Apologize,” Gisbourne said.
“You’ve lost your mind, Gisbourne,” de Clare said.
“No one ever said I was sane, de Clare. She’s my wife and I’ll be the one to show her discipline.”
De Clare folded over to give me a mock bow. “My apologies, my lady.”
Gisbourne sheathed his sword, satisfied, but Winchester’s mug were still storm-filled and dark. “Come along, Marian,” Gisbourne said, and Winchester’s glare twisted to de Clare.
Gisbourne said nothing until we were back in his chambers. Then he let me go, pushing me forward, and he yelled out the door for some ale. He slammed the door shut, and I sat in the window, opening the shutter a space and trying hard to keep the water in my eyes.
“You’re a stupid, foolish peasant,” he growled at me, sitting before the fire. “I told you to speak right to the prince. I told you to behave.”
“The prince!” I snapped. “With his royal authority. What authority? He ain’t the damn king. He’s a spoiled boy.”
“He’s a prince!” Gisbourne roared.
“He’s your master,” I snarled. “And what, five years your younger? Were you taking orders before he could even hold a sword?”
“You idiot girl,” he growled. “Just shut up, be still, and do what you’re damn well told. I wouldn’t have to hit you if you’d just do what I tell you.”
“Keep hitting, see what happens,” I snapped. They were brave words, but they weren’t as honest as they should have been. My arm felt like it had splintered apart like a block of wood.
His eyes were fixed on the fire. “I can hit harder, Marian.”
“I’m fair shocked you didn’t let de Clare snap my damn hand off,” I spat at him. “Doesn’t matter to you none.”
He whipped round in the chair, his eyes blazing hotter than the flames. “Doesn’t matter? Are you daft? For him to strike you is an insult to my honor. A grave insult that I will not allow.”
I spat on the ground. “You have no honor.”
He lunged from his chair, coming to me to loom over me, all darkness and hulk and shadows. “My honor is the only thing that means anything to me.”
I stared back at him. “Then you have no thought as to what it means. I’m no innocent, so I can’t say I ain’t earned whatever pain you put me to. But you’ve killed children. Without a sin to their name. Honor knows nothing of that.”
“I protect my own. My name. Nothing else matters.”
Turning my hand, I looked at the new spots of blood on the bandages. “Damn fine job of protecting me you’re doing,” I told him.
He caught my chin and dragged me up, looking full in my eyes. His were dark, like oil skating over midnight water, and looking in them felt like falling into black. “Are you mine, Marian?”
My body set to trembling. “You know that answer, Gisbourne.”
He let me go, looking away, the black waters drying up. “I do. And yet, you came. With bruises on your face, when all of Sherwood defends you.”
“For the annulment.”
His lip curled. “Naturally. And yet I wonder if it wasn’t your sweet Huntingdon who has been dishonoring you the same way I’m wont to do.”
“You are a noble lady, and a wife. If you continue such flagrant disregard for my royal authority, I will punish you and my forgiveness will be beyond your reach. I strongly encourage you to cleave to your husband, be a good little girl and be dutiful and pious in all things. And Gisbourne, you might want to think about how the behavior of your wife reflects on your authority. Particularly the authority provided by certain positions?” he said, raising his eyebrows.
Gisbourne made some kind of a grunt.
Prince John smiled. “Now, Lady Leaford, you may kiss my ring and go.”
Kiss my ring—like he were the damn king. He weren’t even his brother’s heir, only third in line to the throne, and he could sit here like a monarch. I stood still, but Gisbourne’s fingers caught my elbow to drag me up and were grinding the bones like he were trying to make bread with them.
Finally I stood and stepped forward, kneeling before the prince to kiss the Angevin seal imprinted in gold.
He smiled at me, but all I saw were teeth.
Gisbourne dragged me out into the antechamber. As soon as we were there he raised his hand to hit me again and I slammed my good hand into his throat and my knee into his bits. “Don’t you ever strike me,” I snarled at him.
De Clare were still there and he strode over to me, grabbing my injured hand and squeezing. A scream bubbled up but I shut my mouth and it came out a yelp. He did it harder, twisting, and I fell.
“Trash,” he spat at me. “How dare you hit a lord!”
Gisbourne were grunting but I couldn’t even see him. De Clare squeezed again and I couldn’t stop the scream from coming.
The door burst open with Winchester filling it, but it weren’t needed. Gisbourne had his sword out, and I were fair shocked to see it weren’t pointed at me.
“Unhand her,” he rumbled.
Winchester crossed his arms as de Clare stared at Gisbourne. “I was helping you give the little bitch what she deserves!” de Clare said, his fingers still mashed in my broken hand.
“She is a lady of the court,” Winchester told him.
He dropped my hand, and one of the knights caught me up before I fell. Lot of good they were when he were squeezing.
“Apologize,” Gisbourne said.
“You’ve lost your mind, Gisbourne,” de Clare said.
“No one ever said I was sane, de Clare. She’s my wife and I’ll be the one to show her discipline.”
De Clare folded over to give me a mock bow. “My apologies, my lady.”
Gisbourne sheathed his sword, satisfied, but Winchester’s mug were still storm-filled and dark. “Come along, Marian,” Gisbourne said, and Winchester’s glare twisted to de Clare.
Gisbourne said nothing until we were back in his chambers. Then he let me go, pushing me forward, and he yelled out the door for some ale. He slammed the door shut, and I sat in the window, opening the shutter a space and trying hard to keep the water in my eyes.
“You’re a stupid, foolish peasant,” he growled at me, sitting before the fire. “I told you to speak right to the prince. I told you to behave.”
“The prince!” I snapped. “With his royal authority. What authority? He ain’t the damn king. He’s a spoiled boy.”
“He’s a prince!” Gisbourne roared.
“He’s your master,” I snarled. “And what, five years your younger? Were you taking orders before he could even hold a sword?”
“You idiot girl,” he growled. “Just shut up, be still, and do what you’re damn well told. I wouldn’t have to hit you if you’d just do what I tell you.”
“Keep hitting, see what happens,” I snapped. They were brave words, but they weren’t as honest as they should have been. My arm felt like it had splintered apart like a block of wood.
His eyes were fixed on the fire. “I can hit harder, Marian.”
“I’m fair shocked you didn’t let de Clare snap my damn hand off,” I spat at him. “Doesn’t matter to you none.”
He whipped round in the chair, his eyes blazing hotter than the flames. “Doesn’t matter? Are you daft? For him to strike you is an insult to my honor. A grave insult that I will not allow.”
I spat on the ground. “You have no honor.”
He lunged from his chair, coming to me to loom over me, all darkness and hulk and shadows. “My honor is the only thing that means anything to me.”
I stared back at him. “Then you have no thought as to what it means. I’m no innocent, so I can’t say I ain’t earned whatever pain you put me to. But you’ve killed children. Without a sin to their name. Honor knows nothing of that.”
“I protect my own. My name. Nothing else matters.”
Turning my hand, I looked at the new spots of blood on the bandages. “Damn fine job of protecting me you’re doing,” I told him.
He caught my chin and dragged me up, looking full in my eyes. His were dark, like oil skating over midnight water, and looking in them felt like falling into black. “Are you mine, Marian?”
My body set to trembling. “You know that answer, Gisbourne.”
He let me go, looking away, the black waters drying up. “I do. And yet, you came. With bruises on your face, when all of Sherwood defends you.”
“For the annulment.”
His lip curled. “Naturally. And yet I wonder if it wasn’t your sweet Huntingdon who has been dishonoring you the same way I’m wont to do.”
