Page 33 of Far From Sherwood Forest

“What the hell was that?” he asks even though we both knowwhat it was.

It takes me a moment to find my voice, and when I do, I answer with one single, certain word.

“Magic.”

We both scramble to our feet at the same time, our eyes scanning our surroundings. The butterflies continue to swirl around us in lazy spirals, their colors catching the sunlight when they fly into the rays that pour through the overhead canopy, turning them into wings of stained glass.

“Show yourself, you fucking coward!” Henry shouts into the woods.

We circle around each other, back to back, as we search for the source of the magic that just attacked us.

For the first time ever, we’re on the same side of something.

However, I fear it won’t last long when the forest remains still except for the fluttering of wings. They’ve started to thin out, dispersing through the trees, leaving the forest a little calmer, a little quieter. Meanwhile, our own confusion and turmoil grow louder.

Suddenly, the gun is jerked out of my hand. I didn’t realize I was still holding onto it until Henry yanks it away. He lifts it into the air and aims it toward the sky. The shot he fires peals through the forest as the remaining butterflies flee.

“Henry!”

He shoots again.

“Henry, stop!”

He rounds on me, his face red with indignation, his arm wet with blood. My eyes dart to the weapon still in his hand, and I’m at least relieved to see that it’s not aimed at me. I’ve been shot enough to last me the rest of the year, thank you very much.

“Whoever’s out there, whoever just pulled that shit, is who sent us here, Robin!”

“I know. I get that.” My voice isn’t raised as much as his, butI still take a breath to try to gain some composure. “But what are we supposed to do? They have magic. If they don’t want us to find them, then we’re not going to.”

He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing. “Giving up? That was never like you.”

“Yeah, well, a lot has changed. Before we ended up here, I was already planning on giving up the hood after Marian died, so, yeah, I guess I’m a quitter.” A thought hits me then, along with a sharp pang to my chest. “Did you have something to do with Marian’s death too?”

He doesn’t look shocked by the question, but his face falls. “No. I would never.”

“Because you loved her.”

“You knew?” he asks, his brows drawn.

“Of course I did.” Letting out a sad laugh, I shake my head. “She was too good for either of us.”

“At least we can agree on something.” He stares at me intently for a moment longer before he shoves his gun back into the holster at his side.

When he turns his back on me to start walking away, I’m not surprised. This is the most we’ve talked since he showed up here, and of course he’s going to run away from it. But I won’t let him. Henry is the perfect example of what happens when you hold onto the past too tightly.

I don’t want to be like that.

So the choice I have to make is easy.

“I forgive you.”

He stops. A tense, heavy silence stretches between us before he peers over his shoulder to scowl at me. “What?”

“For killing my father. It was over seven years ago. It was a different life, Henry. I won’t hold onto that and let it ruin me.”

His jaw clenches so hard that it’s visible even with his thick beard. “I don’t want your forgiveness.”

“Too bad. I’m giving it anyway.”