8. Baron
BARON
My horse’s hooves clattered against the drawbridge as we crossed, the sound echoing loudly in the early morning air.
Rufus and Bart rode at my flanks with their backs straight and chests puffed with inflated self-importance.
If Laurel had managed to slip into the castle unnoticed and secure work, as I prayed she had, there was a very real chance we might pass her in a corridor or courtyard, which is why I hadn’t been willing to risk bringing Sebastian or Dominic.
Either might have recognized her. Rufus and Bart, at least, had never met Laurel and believed that Robin Hood’s daughter was dead.
As we entered the courtyard, I forced my gaze forward, or at least I tried to.
Any hint of red hair irresistibly drew my gaze and set my heart to pounding twice as fast as normal.
I scanned every face in spite of firmly instructing myself not to, searching for Laurel, but all I found were downturned heads, hurried steps, and identical uniforms. It would have been nearly impossible to pick Laurel out even if she were standing ten paces away.
Servants parted before us as we rode through, eyes lowered, and their bodies cringing away as if we carried some contagious disease.
We halted in the center of the courtyard where gardeners were hacking away at the charred remains of a dead tree, its blackened trunk ugly and split wide.
A young sapling waited off to the side, roots wrapped and ready to replace the burned one.
My mouth curved faintly upward before I could stop it.
Laurel had burned that tree to the ground the night we freed her father. Normally, her impulsivity worried me, but that night, her rash actions had likely saved us all. I only hoped she didn’t have any other grandiose ideas like that while working undercover.
The captain of the guard greeted us with crisp efficiency.
Once I gave my name and stated my new position, his expression shifted to recognition, followed quickly by deference.
He snapped to attention, bowed, and ushered us inside, where a messenger hurried off to announce our arrival to Prince John.
Wine and food were offered, which Rufus and Bart eagerly accepted and I declined.
It felt like an age before we were able to see Prince John. I paced back and forth, hands clasped behind my back, and paused at the window with each pass to scan the crowd of servants in the courtyard below until a messenger finally announced that they were ready to receive us.
We passed through a winding labyrinth of corridors and staircases, climbing higher until we reached the royal quarters where two guards flanked the doors, halberds crossed. They stepped aside at once and pulled open the heavy doors as we approached.
Prince John rose when I entered. “Come in, come in!”
He gestured toward a plain wooden chair set before his desk while lowering himself into an ornate throne cushioned in red velvet.
Rufus and Bart stood at attention as I slowly lowered myself into the seat.
Prince John was smaller than I remembered and had a rather unimpressive build.
His feet barely reached the floor so I was reminded forcibly of a child swinging his feet while sitting in his father’s chair.
He had a pale, pasty complexion and round, barrel chest that left no doubt that he had never seen battle himself.
I knew enough about him to know that he was often considered to be polite and kind, bordering on friendly, but then would flip without a moment’s notice and lash out in violent, unpredictable outbursts.
“What happened to Blackwell?” he asked. “You’re his son, aren’t you? Baron, if I recall.”
I inclined my head. “Correct. Robin Hood’s daughter killed my father, sire. I was there.”
“But she didn’t kill you?”
“That’s right.”
“What happened?”
“I killed and buried her myself, along with several of Robin Hood’s men.
The bodies of my father’s soldiers were returned to their families and any survivors came back with me to the Cresswell Crags to await your orders.
” It was almost unnerving to hear how easy it was to bend the truth.
It was exactly what Prince John would want to hear.
John smiled smugly. “Well done. Those outlaws have plagued us for years. I’m glad to hear some of them are gone for good.” He sighed rather theatrically. “I’m sorry to hear about your father. He was a great man and a loyal follower. I look forward to working with you in his place.”
“Father spoke highly of you often, Your Majesty,” I said. “I’ll never be the man he was, but I’ll serve to the best of my ability.”
“You already have,” John said. “Killing some of Robin Hood’s Merry Men is no small accomplishment. You’re to be commended for your service.”
“Thank you, sire,” I replied, then cut in before he could elaborate. “But I didn’t come for praise or to exchange pleasantries.”
John chuckled. “Just as efficient as your father, I see. No need to clutter our time with small talk.” He leaned forward and interlaced his fingers.
“I’ll be brief,” I said. “Robin Hood himself is still at large. If you have any extra men, I want a task force out looking for him. He was injured in the attack and will be vulnerable if we can find him soon. I intercepted the message you sent to my father and have my men positioned at the Crags, but they can be here within two weeks now that winter is over. When will Philip’s army arrive? ”
“Two months from now.”
I nodded. “Then we can drill until they arrive. I trust your barracks can accommodate us.”
“Of course.” John leaned back, pleased. “But there’s no rush.
Richard won’t return anytime soon, but having your men here would be advantageous.
You’ve waited long enough. Now, about your other duties.
” John went on to detail other obligations that came with being sheriff, most of which I already knew from watching my father for so many years.
I would be primarily tasked with collecting taxes and enforcing the law.
I had the authority to arrest and imprison anyone I wanted, save Prince John himself.
It was no wonder to me why my father had loved this position.
The power associated with it was palpable.
“And Richard?” I asked carefully. “Is he still being held by the Austrians?”
John grimaced. “No. Leopold sent him elsewhere and neglected to say where. A blasted inconvenience if you ask me. But I have a plan to get the information.”
“What’s your proposal?”
John raised his glass. “A tournament. Held in your honor. The nobility always like to know the sheriff. We can even invite Duke Leopold and his son and hopefully coax them into revealing where my brother is being kept.”
“An excellent idea!” Rufus piped up enthusiastically. “What cunning! What foresight! Well done, Your Majesty! Such an honor to be in your presence! With you as our lead—”
I arched an eyebrow and he immediately clamped his jaws shut.
“As you wish,” I said, inclining my head. “Though it matters little who holds Richard, so long as we are prepared for his return. My allegiance is always to you, Your Majesty.”
John grinned. “I like the way you think, Baron.”
Inside, my pulse thundered.
This was the price of keeping Laurel alive: working for a tyrant that would kill both Laurel and me the second he discovered the truth.