I turned my head; I had forgotten her. In the same look I saw Isabel, gripping her chair, staring at Gisbourne.
“Which one?” I asked. It were a fair question; they were both beyond all comparison.
“Yours,” she said. Before I could ask more, she ducked her head a little and said, “The one who should be yours, at least.”
“He’s beyond compare,” I whispered, sinking back in my chair. With the pain numbed I felt so tired I could bare move. It felt wrong, to be confessing how I admired Rob to Eleanor, but I didn’t have the strength to care.
Each sound their blows made rocked me, and they were fast and steady both. They turned slow, a foot with each hit, moving with each other, locked. Endless and eternal. They were too well matched; it was just a matter of how long they could stay moving.
Across the field another man took a knee rather than face down another blow, and it seemed the needed count was reached. A horn blared, and Rob and Gisbourne fought a few moments more before breaking free of each other.
I waited for them to leave the field, but no one did. Pages ran out onto the field with short fences and made a small ring in the middle of the field. The final players were herded in there—five in all.
Only moments had passed, and the fighters were still heaving with breath. Another horn sounded, and their weapons raised. I wanted to turn to Eleanor and accuse her—there was no space between these rounds, no time to see Rob at all.
But I couldn’t. I just watched.
No one rushed forward. Gisbourne were talking—I could see his mouth moving—but I couldn’t much hear his words. Then the four moved closer to each other, and all set on Robin.
My nails dug into the wood of the chair.
Gisbourne were the first to strike, and Rob blocked it with his sword and swiveled to take another blow on his shield. He ducked another and struck at Gisbourne, hitting his shoulder.
Rob moved fast, his feet trained for the forest where you could never trust the ground for long. I could hear their shouts of anger, bare loud over the shouts and cheers of the people.
The four were starting to get their timing better, and de Lacy struck a hard blow to Rob’s shield and Gisbourne swung hard for Rob’s arm.
It were hard enough to make him stumble and drop his sword.
Prince John laughed.
Water pricked at my eyes as they set upon him in true. He were good at using his shield like a weapon, slamming them with it, twisting this way and that, but without his sword he couldn’t survive. I wanted to shout at him to take a knee, take a knee, but if he ever heard, he wouldn’t have done it. Surrender weren’t in him.
Gisbourne swept out his feet, and he fell. They all managed to get a sickening blow in to his body before Gisbourne took the opening and heaved a blow at de Lacy, and they left Rob on the field.
It were Winchester who strode out to the ring and shifted one of the fences to pull Rob out. I watched him help Rob hobble off the field and wiped the tears off my face.
“Do you know where they’ll go?” I asked Eleanor.
She gave a careful, queen-like sigh. “I imagine the earl took him back to Robin’s quarters. Robin was situated in a low room in the residences, in the small building,” she told me.
“Right next to the prison,” I realized.
“Yes,” she said. “It was all I could do to talk my son out of that.”
I stood, tucking my hand and the half-melted snow purse inside my sling. My heart beat thick and heavy like it didn’t have many beats left, but I turned from the nobles and the Queen Mother didn’t stop me none.
Chapter Eighteen
The walk were a hundred times longer than it had been the day before. I stayed outside for as long as I could, but as soon as I stepped into the warmth I felt like I melted with it. I fell against the wall, breathing hard.
Sucking in a deep breath, I pushed off the wall and walked quick through, desperate to get to him. When I came to his hallway, I knew his room by the guards outside it.
But they weren’t there to keep me out, only keep him in, and they didn’t even look at me as I opened the door and entered.
I shut the door and slumped against it. It were a small room, and Winchester’s wide, tall body were brimming it over. Rob sat on the bed. His shirt were stripped off in a sweaty heap on the floor with leathers and a tunic besides. His body were glowing red, his mouth drooling with blood, and he held a balled-up cloth to his face.
His eyes met mine, and the ball in his throat ran up and down. “Scarlet,” he said, soft and rough.
Winchester turned, ducking his head to me. “My lady,” he said. He glanced back to Rob. “I shall leave him in your care—my own healer should be along shortly.”
Winchester came closer, blocking my body from Rob’s view. “Perhaps,” he whispered, “you should allow him to look at you as well.” His jaw worked. “I regret that I feel I was protecting the wrong party last night.”
Without much knowing why, I were dangerous close to crying. I shook my head.
He nodded and opened the door. I could hear him telling the guards—his guards, I realized—to allow no one but his healer in.
“Rob,” I whispered. “Are you … are you all right?”
He walked over to me slow, his eyes never leaving mine, and he stood just before me, holding his breath before he touched me. His fingertips touched the side of my mouth and slid back along my cheek, first one, then three, then four grazing along my skin. His thumb skidded over my lips, dragging my breath away with it.
“Which one?” I asked. It were a fair question; they were both beyond all comparison.
“Yours,” she said. Before I could ask more, she ducked her head a little and said, “The one who should be yours, at least.”
“He’s beyond compare,” I whispered, sinking back in my chair. With the pain numbed I felt so tired I could bare move. It felt wrong, to be confessing how I admired Rob to Eleanor, but I didn’t have the strength to care.
Each sound their blows made rocked me, and they were fast and steady both. They turned slow, a foot with each hit, moving with each other, locked. Endless and eternal. They were too well matched; it was just a matter of how long they could stay moving.
Across the field another man took a knee rather than face down another blow, and it seemed the needed count was reached. A horn blared, and Rob and Gisbourne fought a few moments more before breaking free of each other.
I waited for them to leave the field, but no one did. Pages ran out onto the field with short fences and made a small ring in the middle of the field. The final players were herded in there—five in all.
Only moments had passed, and the fighters were still heaving with breath. Another horn sounded, and their weapons raised. I wanted to turn to Eleanor and accuse her—there was no space between these rounds, no time to see Rob at all.
But I couldn’t. I just watched.
No one rushed forward. Gisbourne were talking—I could see his mouth moving—but I couldn’t much hear his words. Then the four moved closer to each other, and all set on Robin.
My nails dug into the wood of the chair.
Gisbourne were the first to strike, and Rob blocked it with his sword and swiveled to take another blow on his shield. He ducked another and struck at Gisbourne, hitting his shoulder.
Rob moved fast, his feet trained for the forest where you could never trust the ground for long. I could hear their shouts of anger, bare loud over the shouts and cheers of the people.
The four were starting to get their timing better, and de Lacy struck a hard blow to Rob’s shield and Gisbourne swung hard for Rob’s arm.
It were hard enough to make him stumble and drop his sword.
Prince John laughed.
Water pricked at my eyes as they set upon him in true. He were good at using his shield like a weapon, slamming them with it, twisting this way and that, but without his sword he couldn’t survive. I wanted to shout at him to take a knee, take a knee, but if he ever heard, he wouldn’t have done it. Surrender weren’t in him.
Gisbourne swept out his feet, and he fell. They all managed to get a sickening blow in to his body before Gisbourne took the opening and heaved a blow at de Lacy, and they left Rob on the field.
It were Winchester who strode out to the ring and shifted one of the fences to pull Rob out. I watched him help Rob hobble off the field and wiped the tears off my face.
“Do you know where they’ll go?” I asked Eleanor.
She gave a careful, queen-like sigh. “I imagine the earl took him back to Robin’s quarters. Robin was situated in a low room in the residences, in the small building,” she told me.
“Right next to the prison,” I realized.
“Yes,” she said. “It was all I could do to talk my son out of that.”
I stood, tucking my hand and the half-melted snow purse inside my sling. My heart beat thick and heavy like it didn’t have many beats left, but I turned from the nobles and the Queen Mother didn’t stop me none.
Chapter Eighteen
The walk were a hundred times longer than it had been the day before. I stayed outside for as long as I could, but as soon as I stepped into the warmth I felt like I melted with it. I fell against the wall, breathing hard.
Sucking in a deep breath, I pushed off the wall and walked quick through, desperate to get to him. When I came to his hallway, I knew his room by the guards outside it.
But they weren’t there to keep me out, only keep him in, and they didn’t even look at me as I opened the door and entered.
I shut the door and slumped against it. It were a small room, and Winchester’s wide, tall body were brimming it over. Rob sat on the bed. His shirt were stripped off in a sweaty heap on the floor with leathers and a tunic besides. His body were glowing red, his mouth drooling with blood, and he held a balled-up cloth to his face.
His eyes met mine, and the ball in his throat ran up and down. “Scarlet,” he said, soft and rough.
Winchester turned, ducking his head to me. “My lady,” he said. He glanced back to Rob. “I shall leave him in your care—my own healer should be along shortly.”
Winchester came closer, blocking my body from Rob’s view. “Perhaps,” he whispered, “you should allow him to look at you as well.” His jaw worked. “I regret that I feel I was protecting the wrong party last night.”
Without much knowing why, I were dangerous close to crying. I shook my head.
He nodded and opened the door. I could hear him telling the guards—his guards, I realized—to allow no one but his healer in.
“Rob,” I whispered. “Are you … are you all right?”
He walked over to me slow, his eyes never leaving mine, and he stood just before me, holding his breath before he touched me. His fingertips touched the side of my mouth and slid back along my cheek, first one, then three, then four grazing along my skin. His thumb skidded over my lips, dragging my breath away with it.
