Page 106 of Far From Sherwood Forest

They stare at us without saying a word.

After too many seconds of that, I start getting pissed, mostly because I feel Robin’s tension as he holds his breath, and he’s already stressed enough as it is.

“Well?” I bark at the two idiots.

Slow grins spread across both their faces before Will answers, “The king’s alive.”

Robin exhales and drops back against me, his bound hands lightly gripping the front of my shirt in relief. “Thank God.”

“And?” I ask.

“We did what you said,” Alan says. “We told him the attack came from a band of outlaws but that we suspect they were hired mercenaries. Since he’s been gone so long, he has no idea they were meant to be disguised asus. Since we saved him by warning his guards and aiding in the fight, he allowed John and Tuck to join his escort.”

I nod, just as relieved as Robin. “Good. We’ll have our signal when we need it. How long do we have?”

“We got as far ahead of them as we could. The king should be arriving at Nottingham Castle within the hour.”

Robin peers at me over his shoulder. He may be anxious, but he gives me a steady smile and a sharp nod to let me know he’s ready.

We never finished our previous conversation, which is probably a good thing. I’ll play my role as convincingly as I can, but there are lines I’m not willing to cross.I’mthe only one allowed to hurt him.

I place a soft kiss against his cheek. “Time to introduce the prince to the famous thief of Sherwood Forest.”

I’m not Robin Hood anymore. I haven’t been for five years. Stepping back into his shoes is daunting, like they’re bigger than before. I’m not sure if I still deserve them. Even though the hood was forced off my head, I was planning on giving it up anyway, and that guilt has followed me ever since.

But now it’s back on, and I have the chance to make things right. I have to do this for the people of Nottingham. For my people in Sherwood Forest.

The prince has reigned with tyranny long enough, and his time is up.

Of course, this plan doesn’t come without its risks. I tried to warn Henry about that, but I don’t think he ever accepted it.

I know he’s in this as much as I am. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have made the trip back here when he never wanted to return. He wouldn’t have been the one to come up with this plan. He wouldn’t be risking his own life to pull this off.

I only hope hecanpull it off.

As we ride through the town of Nottingham, eyes turn ourway, and whispers follow us. I’m not surprised considering, as far as they all know, we’ve both been gone for months.

Cart salesmen freeze mid-sale, loaves of bread forgotten in outstretched hands. A blacksmith falls still with his hammer in the air, its ringing echo swallowed by the unusual quiet. Children stop their games in the mud to gape while their mothers clutch them closer, murmuring our names. Near the edge of the square, an old woman scattering grain for her chickens stops mid-throw, seeds spilling from her apron. The birds flutter and peck around her feet as she stands frozen, jaw slack, as if she’s seen ghosts.

Henry ignores them all, his body tense and rigid behind me. He leans forward, pressing into me with his mouth close to my ear. His tone is harsh and mean, a contrast to the words he speaks, like he’s putting on a show for the onlookers while keeping his voice low so only I can hear.

“Only I get to hurt you, Robin. Just remember when I do that I love you.”

Hearing those words in the Sheriff’s cruel voice puts a smirk on my face. It’s a good thing the Hood was always a defiant and mischievous rebel.

“I love you too,” I say back, moving my lips as little as possible.

So I suppose that’s the plan he came up with? He thinks if he hurts me enough, then the prince won’t order his own guards to do it instead? I guess I’m okay with that. I’d prefer he hurt me than one of those soulless soldiers who definitely wouldn’t hold back.

Let’s just hope I don’t pop a boner in the middle of the throne room.

When we approach the main gate to the castle, we’re stopped by the guards flanking each side as they cross their poleaxes to block the entrance.

“Sheriff?” one of them asks, his brows drawn as he peers upat us. “Is that really you?”

“It is,” Henry answers with a gruff voice. “I’ve brought the prince a present. Are you going to let us through?”

They both share a look, hesitating.