Page 28 of Far From Sherwood Forest (Far From #3)

My heart fucking aches.

How could Will do that? My own goddamn cousin.

Sitting on the edge of my bed with my face in my hands, tears slip through my fingers, and I can feel each heavy drop fall into my lap even through my thick jeans. With each one, my heart cracks open even more, the shockwaves sending sobs up my throat.

I want Henry.

I just found out my own cousin got Marian killed, and here I am thinking about Henry .

Part of me wishes I hadn’t sent him away, but he’s been breaking my fucking heart too.

He fucked me and took care of me afterward, but then he pulled away like he always does.

He actually seemed concerned about me when I was sick but then completely ended things between us before I even knew what the hell those things were.

The healthiest thing for me to do would be to let him go, but that’s really fucking hard.

By the time my tears finally start to slow, I’ve completely exhausted myself. My body is weak and heavy. My mind is hazy.

I lie down and roll over onto my side facing the wall. I don’t bother undressing or getting under the covers or even taking off my boots. I don’t have the strength for any of that. The room feels as though it’s closing in on itself even with my eyes closed.

I don’t try to fight the darkness when it comes. I let it pull me under into sleep.

When I wake, it’s nearly dark inside the bunkhouse, the daylight that had been pouring in through the windows earlier now fading fast. I didn’t mean to sleep so long, and I feel absolutely no better for it.

As I sit up, my head throbs. I realize there’s a blanket over me, and my boots are off and on the floor at the foot of the bed. I don’t remember waking up and doing any of that, so John must have come in at some point.

A wave of sadness threatens to crash over me all over again.

John is leaving.

Henry doesn’t want me.

My own cousin betrayed me.

Maybe my return to Sherwood Forest would be the best thing for everyone.

I haven’t felt this much unhappiness in a long time, and all I want to do is cut it out of me.

It seems as though the ache in my chest has spread to the rest of my body. When I sit up further and move to the edge of the bed, my limbs protest, like every inch of me is weighed down along with my heart.

Reaching for my boots, I slip them on and stand. I walk over to the door and take a deep breath before opening it. It’s time to face the truth.

As I head down the steps of the porch, I see the orange glow of a fire coming from around the side of the building and hear the quiet murmur of voices.

The sun has sunk low past the horizon, leaving a faint, light blue glow behind the mountains to the west. The rest of the sky is dark, but it’s still warm out. Winter is finally over.

I round the corner of the building and see flames flickering and dancing in the small firepit.

John, Alan, and Tuck are all sitting in camping chairs around the fire, and I spot Will in the distance on the ground, hugging his knees to his chest as he stares out at the silhouette of the mountains lined in baby blue.

John peers over his shoulder at the sound of my footsteps and stands as I approach.

We come to a stop in front of each other, and he simply stares at me as the seconds tick by and the fire crackles.

Whatever it is that he sees on my face has him scooping me up in his arms and crushing me against his chest. Surprisingly, it relieves some of the pressure that had been building up inside me, and I find myself relaxing in his bear hold.

Even after I kept things from him, John couldn’t stay mad at me.

He’s never been able to. After the others showed up, I told them all what little I knew about the Spirit—the bear attack and that apparently she had been masquerading as Henry’s friend.

John was a little irritated that I hadn’t told him any of that, but I think he understands that I didn’t want to bring any of that down on him.

He’s happy here. He’s made himself a good life and found himself a good woman.

If I don’t really have an interest in returning to Sherwood Forest, I know he doesn’t.

John releases me but continues holding onto my arms as though he knows I need the help to remain steady.

“Thanks,” I mutter with a small smile that doesn’t feel real, then peer over at Will who hasn’t budged an inch. “Has he said anything?”

John shakes his head. “The only thing he’s said is that you’re the only one he’ll explain things to.

He and Alan nearly got into it, but I kept them from beating the shit out of each other.

Though, I’m not entirely sure Will doesn’t deserve it.

He’s been sitting over there for the past couple of hours. ”

I nod and then move toward the others gathered around the fire. John returns to his seat, and I consider sitting in one of the empty chairs but decide against it, remaining on my feet in case I need to make a quick escape again and get the fuck out of here.

“Will.”

He finally looks over before standing and heading toward us, slowly like a man walking toward the gallows.

He comes to a stop on the other side of the fire and waits, awaiting his execution.

Some of the blood has been cleaned from his face, but there’s still remnants of it on his chin and under his nose that looks a little crooked.

“I don’t want excuses,” I tell him preemptively as I cross my arms over my chest. “I want the truth, Will.”

He peers around at the others. “Could we talk in private?”

“Absolutely not. You didn’t just betray me. You betrayed all of us. Your fucking family .”

Will’s bottom lip trembles as he nods. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“The truth ,” I remind him.

“The truth is that…” He inhales a shuddering breath and lets it out as his face crumples and tears gather in his eyes.

“I had evil thoughts. I resented you, Robin. We had a decent life before we became outlaws. I had a decent life. A comfortable one. I believed your quest for justice was naive, that nothing we did would ever do any good. I believed that real power lay in controlling the system rather than fighting against it. I wanted that power. I wanted…I wanted what you had. The power to make people listen, to follow you. So, yeah, I was a little jealous too.”

None of it is easy to hear, but I let him speak because he’s actually giving me the truth.

“So you went to Prince John?”

He nods, and the tears that had pooled in his eyes start falling down his cheeks. “The day you asked me to fetch Marian. The day you trusted me with her.”

He’s interrupted by a sob, and he lowers his head. He sniffs and wipes away his tears before looking back up. I remain patient and try my damned hardest not to cry too, clenching my jaw to keep the urge at bay.

“I was so scared,” Will continues. “I knew it was a bad idea, but I did it anyway. I told him why you sent me to the castle, and he gave me instructions to make it look as though Marian was trying to run away on her own. He told me that the guards would only arrest her. He said that’s what had to happen because King Richard entrusted him with her care, and if he prevented her from running away, it’d gain him trust with the king.

After…” He chokes up again before pushing on.

“After she was killed, I realized he used me. He just wanted Marian out of the way. He wanted to hurt you . He didn’t give a damn about the king because he never intended to return the crown to him.

I realized the huge mistake I had made. You were right all along, Robin.

I never should’ve doubted you or thought I could be better than you. I’m not, and I never will be.”

The silence that follows after all of that is heavy. I feel the others’ stares on me, the weight of them nearly as heavy as they wait to see how I’m going to respond.

But I don’t fucking know .

How do I respond to that ?

I clear my throat and ask, “What happened after that? You didn’t return to camp until late that evening. What were you doing?”

“Weeping in the forest,” he answers with a self-deprecating laugh. “I thought about not returning at all, about disappearing instead. But then the Spirit found me.”

“ She found you ?” John asks.

Will nods. “I begged her to bring Marian back, but she said she didn’t have that kind of power.”

Yet she has the power to turn thousands of butterflies into a bear. Or the other way around. What’s even the point of having magic?

“But she said there was something I could do to maybe, hopefully , save my soul. She wouldn’t tell me what it was back then, but I told her I’d do anything.

I’d do whatever it takes. She said I had to return to you that night and that I’d know what it was when the time came.

After you and John disappeared, I thought maybe she had deceived me.

But then she came to me again and told me you were where you were supposed to be and that, one day soon, she’d send me to you.

I’d have to convince you to go back, to be the savior that I didn’t believe you could be.

That I’d have to believe in you this time. And I do, Robin. I do believe in you.”

For the first time, I look away from Will because, somehow, that puts a hell of a lot of weight on my shoulders while simultaneously lifting a different weight off my chest.

“I don’t understand why she had to send us here for that,” John mutters.

I think I do.

But I don’t say that.

I don’t think it has to do only with me. I think it has to do with Henry too.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, cousin,” Will says, bringing my attention back to him.

His voice shakes again as he speaks, and fresh tears fall down his already splotchy face, leaving trails through dried blood.

“But you have to know how truly sorry I am. I’ve never been more sorry for anything in my life. ”

The others all look at me again, but I don’t take my eyes off Will.