18. Baron
BARON
It never failed to amaze me how good Laurel was at what she did.
For the next month, it seemed as though she could do no wrong.
No one suspected her. If anything, they trusted her more with every passing day.
I would see her sometimes from across the great hall, carrying a tray with her head modestly bowed or I would pass the kitchens and hear Agnes shouting at girls for moving too slowly, only to soften the moment Laurel appeared with a basket of folded linens tucked against her hip.
“There’s my Isabella,” Agnes would say, as if Laurel were the only sensible person in the entire castle. “At least someone around here knows how to work.”
Laurel would always dip into a curtsy and murmur something like, “Thank you, Agnes. I do try.”
Even Prince John noticed. “That maid is the best one I’ve ever had,” he said after one meeting during which Laurel had come in to silently clean. “She seems to know what I need even before I do. You know she brought me buttered crumpets this morning? Without me even asking.”
“Yes,” I said, keeping my face composed. “She seems like a good worker.”
During those few weeks, Laurel brought a light and energy into my life that I had never believed possible.
The castle still felt cold and Prince John was still cruel.
My duties were still endless and it seemed that I always had an eternal list of harsh orders I needed to carry out.
Yet no matter how heavy the day became, Laurel always seemed to find some way to reach me through it.
When we didn’t have time together, notes would appear for me in the most unlikely places.
The first I found was tucked between two reports from my captains. I opened the folded scrap expecting another complaint and instead found Laurel’s handwriting.
The maids say that one of your captains
looks like a goose.
When I looked later that day, I discovered that one of them did indeed have an unusually long neck and his mouth puckered out like a goose’s bill, and I couldn’t see him as anything else after that.
Another note appeared inside my coin purse, which seemed much lighter than it had at my last payroll deposit.
One of these days I need to teach you
how to guard your coin purse better.
Someone might rob you.
I didn’t even know when she managed to slip it in there without me noticing.
But each time I found a note, whether it was silly, serious, or flirtatious, I kept it, as sentimental and ridiculous as it seemed.
A smarter man would have destroyed every scrap of evidence the moment he read it.
A man who was less hopelessly in love would not have smoothed out each little piece of parchment and hidden it carefully where no one else would find it.
But apparently, I was neither smart nor sensible when it came to Laurel.
Even with how busy we both were, we found stolen moments to be together that were never long enough.
Laurel snuck into my rooms several times under the pretense of needing to clean.
Sometimes we would discuss our plans and strategies, but other times we would just talk until we were about to fall asleep.
On rare occasions, we were able to coordinate so James met with both of us at the same time late at night in the forest. James would listen while Laurel reported what she had learned from John’s rooms, then turn to me for updates on troop numbers, supply movements, and every whispered mention of King Richard.
We spoke quietly beneath the trees, with the castle far enough behind us that I could almost forget we had to return to it.
Each time after James left to go report our findings, Laurel and I took the scenic way back.
Those were the best moments of all. It was just Laurel walking beside me with her hand tucked into mine, her fingers warm and sure around my own.
We talked about everything on those walks.
Some nights, she told me about the ridiculous things the servants had said about me or the way Aalis had nearly fainted when a mouse ran across the pantry.
Other nights, we spoke of Sherwood, of her father, and of what England might become when Richard returned and John was stripped of power.
Laurel always spoke of the future as though it was not an if, but a when.
There was no doubt in Laurel’s mind that whatever we wanted to do, we could.
With her impossible confidence, she somehow made me believe our lives could be anything we chose.
Every time I saw Laurel, I fell more deeply in love with her.
She made me want to become the sort of man who deserved the way she looked at me when we were alone.
I was getting less sleep than I ever had. I had double the work, no family left to claim me, and very few friends beyond Laurel and James. Each day carried the risk of discovery, betrayal, or death, and most nights ended with me staring at reports until the words blurred.
And yet, I was the happiest I had ever been. I was finally the hero in my own story instead of the villain.