Once Upon a Romance 03 - With True Love's Kiss (10 page)

The next
morning Bianca checked Isabelle’s back over carefully. It was a wonder what a
day of healing had done. There was no redness, no sign of swelling, and her
careful knife cuts had begun to scab over. The original wound was mending well,
and Isabelle felt strong enough to sit up next to the fire and discuss their
options with the other two.

“We should
stay here several more days, at least.” Bianca was firm in her opinion. “Isabelle
is better, but her body is exhausted from the ordeal of the infection. She
needs to rest and give herself a chance to heal. The wound needs to close, or
she risks getting another infection.” She was full of concern as she looked at
the queen. “I don’t know if you could fight off another one, Isabelle.”

The older
woman smiled serenely, and looked at Robin.

“And what do
you say, Master Goodfellow?”

He shrugged.
“No doubt Bianca is correct in her assessment of your health. But, in all other
regards, the sooner we are gone from here, the better off we shall be. The
hunters Brannon sent after us are not total fools. They will realize,
eventually, that we could not have outpaced them so far, and they will turn
back, to find where they lost our trail. Perhaps they will find it, perhaps
not. If we leave now, we give ourselves the best chance to avoid them. If we
stay…” He shook his head. “Every day puts us more at risk of discovery.”

“Then we
leave in the morning.” Isabelle said without hesitation. Bianca opened her
mouth to object, but the queen cut her off, speaking firmly. “It is my life at
stake, Bianca, and my choice. You must grant me the right to make the decision.”
Her voice softened. “Besides, I imagine I will do better with an easy pace,
than a frantic flight from discovery, don’t you?”

Bianca
pinched her lips closed over the worries that bubbled up, and nodded in answer
to Isabelle’s question.

“Well, then,
that settles it. Today I shall rest, and tomorrow we go.”

Robin gave a
complacent nod and took up his bow, moving a few paces from where the women
were sitting. With a practiced motion he bent the stave—made not of yew, but of
elm—and slipped the loop of the string onto the nocked horn tip. It was
fascinating, watching him perform such a tricky task with the ease of long
familiarity, but Bianca was too irritated to be distracted for long. Brushing
the cave dust from the seat of her skirts, she rose, and walked over to Robin.

“What are
you doing?” She spoke softly, but her tone left no doubt as to her displeasure.

“I thought I
would go hunting. We can take the meat with us.” He looked at her quizzically,
as though astonished at her question, and began checking the fletching on his
arrows.

“Not that.”
Bianca glowered at him. “Why are you encouraging Isabelle to leave when she
clearly needs to rest?”

“I am not. I
am merely giving her all the information, and allowing her to make her own
decision.”

“But she’s
ill!”

“Bianca.” He
sighed, and placed his arrow back in the quiver, giving her his full attention.
“You wish to make your own choices, do you not?”

“Of course.”

“Then why
will you not grant Isabelle the same right?”

“That’s not
the same!”

“It is
exactly the same. You wish to choose what you will spend your life on. She
wants the same. I told you, choices are important to my folk. I would not
willingly take your choices from you, nor will I take them from her.”

“Even if she
dies?”

“Even so.”

Bianca
whirled and stalked away, grinding her teeth in frustration. Behind her Robin’s
parting remark lingered in the air.

“Take heart,
Bianca. You mortals are tougher than you look.”

***

Robin spent
most of the day out of the cave. After checking the area carefully he gave
Bianca permission to wander, gathering what herbs she could to replace her
supplies, as long as she stayed near him. After a morning spent in the forest,
she returned to the cave to make several salves, leaving him to conceal the
signs of her presence and then set out to hunt in earnest. Though the deer were
everywhere he ignored them, for they’d never have time to make use of all the
meat. Instead he set his traps for smaller prey, leaving snares along rabbit
runs, and shooting what game birds he could find. By dusk he had four grouse
neatly trussed to the back of his pack, and when he checked his snares he found
several rabbits. Pleased with his work, he headed back to the cave and slipped
inside.

Isabelle was
resting, as she had promised. Her peaceful breathing was a soothing sound,
after so many nights of pain-filled rasping. Bianca, too, lay by the fire, but
despite her closed eyes Robin could sense she was still awake. He settled
himself on the floor of the cave, gratefully taking up the bowl of fire-roasted
roots Bianca had left out for him, and waited to see if she would speak. It
only took a few moments before she opened her eyes.

“What did
you mean, earlier, when you said mortals were tougher than we looked?”

“Exactly
that.” He took a moment to finish chewing one herb-sprinkled tuber, but she
didn’t pester him, just waited. “Had I been asked, I would have said Isabelle
would never survive our initial flight, and yet she has. I would have said that
you would never bear up under the rigors of travel, yet here you are, hale and
sound and perplexingly capable. You are deceptive, you mortals.”

“We are
deceptive? I find that strange, coming from you.”

“The Fae can
be misleading, true. And some of us practice treachery as a matter of course.
But for all that, our natures are very singular. Once you know what drives us,
we are easily understood. Predictable, even. You mortals, though,” he shook his
head as he spoke, “you hold an infinite capacity for contradiction. It is as
though each of you is not one being, but many beings, all with their own
desires. It is frustrating, at times almost impossible, to predict what one of
you will do. For all that…” He trailed off, forced to smile at Bianca’s
expression. Her brows were drawn together in intense concentration, as she
soaked up every word, and her mouth was pursed with thought. It was charming.

“For all
that what?” She prodded, impatient for him to continue.

“For all
that, it is this same frustrating nature that allows you to change. To become
something new, or something better, than what you have been.”

She frowned.
“By that logic, it would also allow us to become something worse.”

He was
nodding, before she even finished speaking. “Indeed. It is a source of great
contention among the Fae.”

“What do you
mean?”

Robin felt a
shiver go up his spine. He was very near to saying things that he should not,
especially not in a place so near the border of the mists, where he could be so
easily seen or heard from the other side. Bianca was looking at him steadily,
awaiting an answer, but instead he offered an observation.

“You no
longer seem as angry as you were.”

She cocked
her head, looking thoughtful. “I suppose I’m not.”

“May I ask
why?”

“I don’t
know.” She wrinkled up her face again, and Robin tried not to laugh at the
picture it made. “I still don’t agree. I think the risk to Isabelle’s life
outweighs the danger from the hunters. But I guess I can’t fault you for
letting her make her own decision. Even if it differs from mine.”

“There, you
see? Adaptability. And in this case, I must admit, I am very grateful for it.”
He finished his last few roots and lay down, trying to get comfortable on the
hard surface.

“Why?”
Bianca also snuggled down, but she kept her head propped where she could see
him.

“It is a
long way to Albion, Bianca.” He yawned around her name. “I should prefer if we
were on pleasant terms. Would you not prefer that, as well?”

“I suppose I
would, Master Goodfellow.” Her voice was sleepy, but amused. “I suppose I
would.”

***

The weather
was fine the next day, and though Isabelle moved gingerly upon first awakening,
by the time they were ready to leave she had loosened up enough to mount her
horse with no more than a boost from Robin. The huntsman then proceeded to use
a handful of bandages, each torn into several strips, to soundly anchor
Isabelle’s legs to the stirrup leathers, taking the burden of staying in her
saddle out of her hands. The queen watched the process with a great deal of
amusement.

“I suppose I
shall have to plan out my dismounts far in advance.”

Robin smiled
up at her. “Not as early as you might think.” He tugged gently on one of the
loose ends, and the knot he had just constructed slithered free. “Pull hard and
you will be free in moments.”

“That is
ingenious!” Isabelle watched carefully, trying to see how the quick-release
knots were made, and smiled in satisfaction before he was done.

Bianca
watched the process in pensive silence. She had to admit, the bindings would
allow Isabelle to ride with the minimum of effort expended, and the queen
herself seemed to be happily confident of her ability to travel today. Her herb
bag was packed with everything she could find that she thought she might need,
and they could hardly have asked for a finer day to ride.

Her
misgivings remained, but she supposed there was no reason she couldn’t enjoy
the day.

So she
smiled at Robin, when he came to offer a leg up. Her smile turned into
surprised laughter when, instead of making a stirrup of his hands, he caught
her around the waist and tossed her up into the saddle. Her skirts went flying,
but she landed safely, and even managed to rotate to sit astride without
unseating herself again. Robin caught her heel and slipped her foot gently
through the stirrup, then handed her the reins.

“Thank you,
kind sir, for that boisterous assistance.”

“The
pleasure was mine, my lady.” He sketched a bow, then jumped lightly into his
own saddle. “Alas, I fear the rest of the day will be rather sedate.”

Robin was
true to his word. He led them at a gentle pace through the forest and up into
the mountains. Part of the caution was to keep their trail as concealed as
possible—riding in streams or over rocks whenever possible—but Bianca knew they
could still have been traveling much faster. Instead of rushing, however, Robin
kept them at a easy walk—so slow, in fact, that Isabelle might have been able
to stay mounted even without the assistance of the bindings. As it was, she
rode with almost no difficulty, and the day passed pleasantly, hardly different
from any other spring ride.

They spoke
as they rode along. Bianca told Isabelle some of the herb lore that had helped
her create the poultice of roots, and Isabelle, in turn, told of some of the
strange dreams she’d had while fevered. Robin started when she mentioned waking
one evening to find swirls of bright lights darting through the air around her,
and Bianca cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Why the
surprise? Fevered people see all sorts of things.”

“I may be
mistaken, but I very much doubt that was a fever vision.”

“Why?”

Robin shook
his head. “You have so many questions, Bianca, and so few are safe to answer.”

“Why?”

He sighed. “There
are strictures. It is difficult to explain, without violating the Accords. Can
you not trust me?”

“It isn’t
that I don’t trust you.” She spoke slowly, thinking about her feelings even as
she tried to explain them. “But I still want to understand. Even when my father
was at his most malicious, I always understood his motives. It’s—” she searched
for the right word, “disturbing, to feel like a pawn being shuffled about
according to mysterious rules.”

“I understand
your concern, but I cannot just answer your questions, not on my own, not
without permission.” She started to object, but he held up one hand. “No one,
however, could object to a few campfire tales, told after a hard day’s journey.”

Bianca
smiled at him, but he only looked back at her with serene innocence.

“Perhaps you
could tell me some tales, then, tonight before we sleep.”

“Perhaps I
could.” He turned his attention back to the trail, and Bianca was left with a
view of his back.

Their route
became trickier as the afternoon stretched on. Robin was leading them along
switchback herders’ trails, instead of the more commonly used passes through
the mountains. They rode single file, and their conversation faltered as they
climbed higher and higher. Though the sun stayed bright, the air around them
grew chill, until Bianca insisted that they pause for a moment to swaddle a
shivering Isabelle in blankets. At last, as the sky began deepening to purple
overhead, they broke free of the rocky terrain and came to a high mountain
meadow, and Robin reined up.

“We’ll camp
here.” He slid from his saddle, and ambled over to assist Isabelle. “A small
fire should be safe enough; no one will see it unless they’re already in the
meadow.”