Lion Heart (17 page)

“You have no idea what I dare. And this isn't a day that should see any more violence. Who are you?”

“My—” David called, cresting the stairs. He drew his sword quick. “Step away from her immediately, young man.”

The man looked at me. “Her who?
Her
?” he asked, confused, jerking his head at me.

“David, please help me pull him up,” I begged.

The man with the sword faltered. “Put it away,” David growled at him.

The man obeyed, confused. David took the rope, shouldering me off gentle. “Let go, my lady,” he whispered.

I did. David saw the blood on the rope and looked at my hands. “Pull him up, David. Please.”

He turned back to his task, nodding. In a few short heaves of his long arms, David had the body up at the wall. I let out a tortured gasp—it weren't Rob.

Allan came up as David pulled him over the battlements, and I cut the rope, crossing the man's arms and pulling the noose from his neck as David went to the next one. Allan skirted past the body without words to help David.

“You're just—pulling them up?” the man asked.

“No one deserves this,” I whispered to him.

The man went to the third rope and started pulling. “I know,” he said to me. “That's what I came here for. To bring the bodies back.”

The second one came into a view. It were a woman, and even though it weren't Rob, my heart still broke, and I started crying helpless over the bodies.

The third were a boy, so young I thought for a moment it were one of the Clarkes. When I cleaned off his smoke-sooted face, I didn't know it, and still I cried. It would have been easy for it to be Ben or Will or Jack.

“Rylan!” a voice called. My body ran still, my blood frozen in my veins.

Steps were loud on the staircase.

“Rylan, how—”

Rob's face appeared above the stair, and his eyes met mine like they were tied together, like there weren't anywhere to look but at each other.

He stepped up one more stair, blood draining fast from his face.

His chest heaved with sudden breath, and he looked at David and Allan and the man, who must have been Rylan. “No,” he breathed. “You're not—is this—I'm not—”

“Robin,” I said, and it came out a horrible, broken sob.

Half a breath later he had my elbows in his hands, dragging me up. His fingers were on my face, dirty with tears and smoke, and I dug my fingers into his shirt, trying to sink some part of me into him so deep we couldn't be taken apart again. His shirt caught the drying blood on my hands and I saw it there, bright on his clothes, blood that I put there. I couldn't stop crying.

Until he pushed my tears off and pressed my mouth to his. I heard Rylan murmur “
Oh
” behind us and didn't pay attention.

Rob were alive. Rob were alive, and I were home.

Whatever that meant in true.

Rob's arms shifted to hold me round my back, fortressing round me and pulling me tight to him. Our kiss broke and our foreheads pushed together, and then our cheeks, every little motion like a physical proof the other were there. When my forehead slipped into the bit where his neck met his shoulder, a shudder ripped through me.

“You're alive,” I breathed against him.

His arms squeezed tighter. “I'm not the one who was meant to be dead.”

I curled tighter. “This was meant to kill you, Rob.”

“I know,” he said. “And it didn't work. And you're not dead.” He nudged my head up and kissed me again, then stared at my face. “Jesus, Scarlet,” he whispered.

David and Allan pulled the last body over the edge, and I cringed.

“We should go,” Rob said. “Rylan, I'm going to send Godfrey to help you. Get the bodies back as soon as you can.”

“Yes, Sheriff.”

Rob captured my hand and went to kiss it, but I hissed and he flipped it to see the burns and cuts from the rope. “Come. I'll bring you back to the forest.”

I shook my head. “Rob, we came to help. Let us help.”

He sighed. “Things are still burning. It looks like rain tonight, though. Hopefully by morning much of the smoke will clear, and the fire will be gone. Until then—we just came back to get the bodies today,” he said soft.

I nodded.

“Here,” he said, producing two leather gloves from his pocket. I winced as he tugged them down over my hands, but once covered, it hurt less, even in the caverns of gloves meant for hands like Rob's.

“Better?” he asked.

Pushing his forehead against mine, I twisted my hand in his until they clasped together like two pieces meant to fit.

He kissed me again.

Rob led us silent out of the castle, and David, Allan, and I mounted our horses. Rob glanced at the cart in the lane, being piled slow with bodies, and back at me.

I gave him a small smile. “You seem in need of a horse, my lord Sheriff.”

He came close and I offered him my arm. He stepped in the stirrup and swung up behind me, holding my hips and sliding close against me, razing heat all along my skin. He wrapped his arms around me, and I leaned back a little, covering his hand that held onto me. I felt our hearts meet and match, finding the beat that they had in common and settle into it.

“My love,” he whispered, putting his head on my shoulder.

I nodded against his head, and spurred the horse.

CHAPTER

Edwinstowe were abandoned. The houses were untouched, but there were a stillness that were absurd for the small working village. There were no animals in the pens, no children running 'cross the lane, no women creaking water from the well.

We rode through and into the forest.

The fresh hope of spring caught me up in its arms the moment we entered Sherwood. The trees were full and bright, sweet with sap and fir and pine. Weeds and grass and patches of wildflowers had shot up through the ground like they could pierce through the brush and clear away the death of winter.

We went to the caves. We'd stayed in one of the largest ones for many winters until the snows got too deep, and even on the nights when heavy rains forced us out of our tree-bound home. We rode up over the
bank that protected the low, hidden clearing where several caves opened their wide mouths, and everyone froze.

Hundreds. Hundreds of people, easily all of Edwinstowe, and most of Nottingham and Worksop besides.

“You saved them all,” I whispered.

Rob's hand clutched mine tight. “Not all. Not nearly all.”

My heart stuttered. “Much?” I asked. “Bess?”

“Scarlet!”

I turned to see Much, very much alive. I swung off the horse before Rob could let me down, running down the hill to get to him. He laughed and caught me up in a fierce hug.

I pulled away from him to look at him in full. He were taller still, tall as Rob now, and he looked older in a way I didn't like. Sadder. Like he knew the sad things of the world.

Which, of course, he did now. We all did.

People started crowding round me. The Clarkes, the Morgan girls, the Percy family, everyone I'd known for years. Touching me, like all of the sudden they thought well of me. Like they'd missed me. It jumbled inside of me, with hurt and confusion and wonder that maybe that were the way of it—maybe they missed me. Maybe
they loved me.

Allan set right about greeting the people he knew, and David waited for me to introduce him round, with a stern frown at Rob, who were still holding me close to him.

Robin were there, looking at me strange. People were all talking at once, and I felt so overtaken by all of it.

My people. They were my people now, in a way that had always been true but never so exact. I weren't this strange hero-thief that they misremembered. I were their lady now.

And they were hurt, and sad, and frightened.

“Will you tell us what happened?” David asked, coming into the clearing.

“Sit,” Rob said over the din. “We can all eat together, and we'll tell you.”

Rob took my hand and it felt like an anchor on rough seas. He tugged me toward the big cave; when we used to make this our shelter, we'd had one log chopped and laid out to sit on, and they'd brought more down so many more people could sit. It were near enough, and the children clumped together, bumping into one another, torn between playing or seeing what all the fuss were about. Their mothers sent them off to play. It were just as well. From the state of Nottingham, they
didn't need to hear what had happened.

We sat on the log, and Rob let my hand go to sit, but I threaded my fingers back through his. His eyes met mine, shadowed but smiling.

His smile faded. “Prince John came through many days ago, and gave an urgent call for the knights of the shire to aid him in collecting the king's ransom. The knights went. Two days later, men on horseback came at dawn. Their only goal was destruction, and they made neat work of it.” Rob's throat worked.

“Were they knights?” I asked.

“Yes and no,” Rob said. “I'm fairly certain they were the same men, but they weren't wearing colors or armor. Our few remaining knights tried to keep them out of the gate. It didn't work, but it bought enough time, and people flooded to the castle, thinking I would be able to protect them there. The men started to burn the city, and then they came for the castle.”

“He got people out through the tunnel,” Much told me.

“The tunnel? I thought they blocked that,” I said, looking at Rob.

He lifted a shoulder. “Not well. I opened it while I was sheriff.”

My mouth tightened. Why would he have done that? I couldn't guess, but it felt like it had something
to do with me. With me being away from him.

“He sent word to me,” Much said. “And I got everyone from the villages to the forest before they could come for their homes too.”

People squished closer to one another at this, like being close would prevent it from being true. Or maybe from happening again. Or both.

“Who were the people on the battlements?” David asked soft.

“Two of the knights that remained,” Rob said. “The others were just people that didn't come to the castle fast enough.” He shook his head, looking grim. “They just killed whoever they could get their hands on. Like life meant nothing to them.”

“They didn't get their hands on many,” said another voice, coming through the gathered people. “Thanks to you, Sheriff.”

People moved aside to let Bess through, and I saw why. She were heavy with child, big and round and slow in the way she walked. Much stood, taking her hand and guiding her to him, and when she were close enough, he kissed her cheek. She gave him a gentle smile and sat down. He sat beside her, and she moved closer to him, leaning into his form.

Much's eyes closed for a moment, like it were a joy to have her close to him. And then they opened, and
looked at me. “You remember Bess, Scar?”

Loosing Rob's hand, I stood and knelt by her so I could hug her. She touched my back to do it, and I stiffened but didn't pull away. “You look—you're . . .” I couldn't. I had no words to say to her, when all I could see when I looked at her were John, dead in the snow.

“I'm Bess Miller now,” she told me. She fished a simple ring on a thread from around her neck with a smile. “I used to wear it on my finger but my fingers have gotten fat,” she told me, holding her hand up like I could tell it were thicker. I couldn't.

Much took her hand, smiling at her, and it took me a breath to remember Miller were Much's family name. She were Much's wife. Much, who were bare a man. “Congratulations,” I said, stunned.

She covered my hand with a watery smile. “Thank you, Scarlet.”

“I'm sorry . . . I wish I had been here for the wedding,” I said, looking to Much.

He shrugged, and his throat worked. “You were dead, Scarlet,” he said. “Everyone said for months that you were. You're not, and that's more than I could have ever hoped for.”