23. Laurel
LAUREL
Iresolved to never think about Baron again and focus all my attention on my mission. I didn’t need him, and I would prove it.
Over the next month, I squirreled away everything I could from Prince John’s living quarters and gathered a good amount of information from scraps of parchment, discarded notes, and overheard conversations.
I did my best to befriend all the servants, particularly the guards who stood sentry outside John’s rooms. I learned which ones would get suspicious and which ones would answer questions simply because they were bored and wanted someone to talk to.
I steered well clear of the barracks and Baron’s men.
Even though I kept my hair covered and face averted, and even though they all believed I was dead, I couldn’t risk compromising the mission or let Father and the others down, and I certainly didn’t want Baron to have any reason to think he had been right.
I worked ceaselessly, every day from well before sunup to long past sundown.
Agnes marveled over having such a dedicated worker, and Prince John was always pleased with my service.
James commended the information I gathered and how well I had worked my way into everyone’s good graces.
I should have felt proud. I did feel proud, in some ways.
But pride didn’t keep me warm at night when I returned to the servants’ quarters exhausted and wanting to confide in someone.
I occasionally saw Baron from a distance, but it was never for long when I did.
I might catch a glimpse of him crossing the courtyard with his officers or see his broad shoulders disappearing into Prince John’s council chamber, but no matter where I saw him, he never looked for me.
Or perhaps he did and was simply better than I was at pretending not to care.
Either way, he kept his distance so well that it began to feel like he didn’t miss me nearly as much as I found myself missing him.
That should’ve made things easier. I’d been the one to end things, after all.
I’d told him goodbye. I had walked out of his room and left him standing there.
It was my own, stupid fault. I had no right to be irritated that he was respecting my decision.
But the first time he passed through a corridor where I stood with a basket of linens and didn’t so much as spare a glance in my direction, I found the hollow in my chest constricting so it became harder to breathe and my anger flared back to life.
Fine, then. If he wanted distance, he could have it.
As the weeks of silence dragged on with no word from Father, I began to grow anxious.
Had he and the others been captured? Surely if they had released King Richard, someone would have sent word.
Or one of the letters I fished out of Prince John’s rubbish would have mentioned it.
But no, weeks passed without a single update, and the longer the silence stretched, the more isolated I felt.
I had plenty of people around me, but none who truly knew me.
Aalis was friendly, but I rarely got a word in with her.
She wanted someone to talk at, not someone to talk to.
“Not every mission is a quick one,” James reminded me after another glum meeting with no news from Father. “Sometimes, it’s just a lot of patience.”
“I know,” I said irritably. “And I won’t quit. But I want something to happen.”
“Something that works in our favor, preferably,” James corrected.
I didn’t respond. I wanted to talk to someone, but the only person I had was James, and those meetings were still brief and occasional.
Each day, it became increasingly difficult to resist the urge to seek out Baron.
He had always been a good listener, when he wasn’t being an infuriating, overprotective blockhead.
He was patient and steady. He would let me rage until I ran out of words, then answer with something so calm and reasonable that I would want to throw something at his head and lean against him at the same time.
Then I had to recommit myself for about the millionth time to not think about him anymore.
It was easier to resist going to him and staying angry when I focused on his flaws, so I forced myself to list them whenever my traitorous heart tried to remember anything tender.
He was controlling. He thought and worried too much.
He acted as though every plan I made had to be inspected at length.
He had done terrible things in his past, things I still didn’t know how to reconcile with the man I loved.
Loved.
I hated that the word still came so readily.
Maybe I was only frustrated with my life in general.
All the other Merry Men were busy or off on daring missions while I was stuck here emptying chamber pots and scrubbing tables.
I wanted to be done. I was done with the tedium of a servant’s life.
My hands itched to throw my knives again.
I needed to practice with my bow. I wanted to do something other than patiently wait for more information to fall into my lap.
I was finished being patient. I wanted to rally the guards to our side and stage an uprising.
I wanted to storm into Prince John’s workroom in the dead of night and steal everything he had.
I wanted danger, movement, triumph, and perhaps one reckless moment where Baron would notice and appreciate that I could accomplish anything I set out to do.
“John finally recovered,” James said.
“Recovered?” I asked, confused. Prince John was in perfect health. “From what?”
James looked puzzled. “Being slashed across the chest. You were there, were you not?”
“Oh.” Of course. He was talking about Little John, not Prince John.
I felt a prickling sting of guilt. I hadn’t thought about him much lately, not because I did not care, but because everything inside the castle had swallowed so much of my attention.
“Yes, I know what you’re talking about now.
Isn’t his son a healer? Did he help his dad, or was it Sybil? ”
“Peter’s only an apprentice healer right now,” James amended. “Sybil took him on and they did a lot for John together.”
“Good,” I said, though there was little heart in my voice.
Of course I wanted John to recover. I wanted all of the Merry Men back and safe.
I wanted to return to Sherwood Forest, where I knew who I was and didn’t have to scrub floors while pretending my heart was not aching over a man I refused to forgive.
“Baron has been—” James began.
I cut him off instantly, as I always did when he brought up Baron. “Don’t you need to get going soon?”
“No.”
I pursed my lips. “Well, the others will wonder where I am if I’m gone too long.”
James stood. “I can walk partway back with you.”
I began to stride off before he could say anything else. James and I always met in the forest just beyond the moat, in a small clearing I liked best when the moon shone brightly. Tonight, even the moonlight annoyed me. It made the path too pretty for the mood I was determined to keep.
“Baron’s been making progress with getting Prince John to confide in him,” James said.
“Hmm.”
“He says Prince John won’t make a move for at least another couple weeks. Not until Philip’s army gets here.”
I stared straight ahead. “I’m surprised he hasn’t sold us all out yet,” I commented snippily. “I assumed he would’ve betrayed us by now.”
“You know he wouldn’t do that, Laurel,” James said quietly. “He cares about all of us. You knew that before anyone else.”
I snorted, even though somewhere at my core, I knew it was true. Baron really had changed. He was not the same man he had been under his father. But knowing that didn’t mean I was going to go running back to apologize.
James didn’t elaborate, which also irritated me.
It felt good to slander Baron. I wanted to vilify him and to hear someone agree with my accusations, to tell me I had been right to leave, that he was a monster and I was wise for seeing it before it was too late.
I wanted reasons that proved he was an enemy, because if he was an enemy, then missing him was foolish instead of painful.
“He probably found someone else already,” I said.
James still didn’t answer.
In my mind, I knew I should stop talking about Baron, but it was as if someone else was slowly taking control of my body and forcing words out of my mouth. “Baron hasn’t even been looking at me. He probably doesn’t even care.”
James still said nothing.
I ground my teeth in frustration. I wanted him to say something.
He could validate me or deny the accusations I was making or tell me I was being cruel or else absurd, anything.
I wanted to argue, because arguing would be easier than admitting that every time Baron avoided me, it hurt.
Every time James mentioned him, I wanted to ask how he was.
Every time I imagined Baron with someone else, my insides twisted so violently I wanted to kick something.
But James wouldn’t give me the fight I was looking for.
“See you next week, Laurel,” he said when we reached the edge of the thicket, then he left. My shoulders sagged.
This mission had started off so entertaining.
I had loved having Baron close by. I had loved feeling like he and I were pulling the wool over everyone’s eyes together, sharing secret looks across rooms full of people who had no idea what we were to each other.
Now it felt like I was completely and utterly alone.
I had no one at the castle to confide in.
I missed the camaraderie of the Merry Men when we were all together.
I missed Sherwood Forest. I missed danger and excitement and the easy certainty of knowing exactly who stood beside me.
But most of all, I missed Baron. My pride wouldn’t allow me to admit that to anyone but myself, and even then, only for a moment. I shook off my self-pity. Snap out of it, Laurel, I told myself firmly. Whining and complaining won’t help. Just get the job done.
I hoped Father would be back soon. If he’d been captured or killed, there was nothing I could do about it from here. Besides, Prince John wouldn’t keep news like that secret. If Father had been killed, word would be spread like wildfire.
But that wouldn’t happen. Father was too clever and cunning to be caught. He would come back, and when he did, I wanted to be ready with good news and a job well done. I certainly didn’t want him to return and realize I had accomplished nothing but pout and sulk over a man.
I walked back across the servants’ footbridge and entered through the small side door. Walter and Otis, one of the guards, were laughing at some joke when I came in.
“Where were you at this time of night?” Walter asked, still grinning.
“Collecting moon flowers,” I said simply, lifting the small basket I carried. “I think they’re pretty.”
Walter and Otis waved me on and returned to their conversation. As I walked back to the servants’ wing, I squared my shoulders. Three weeks. I would give myself three more weeks, and then I would have something to show for all my time here. Something that proved I did not need Baron Blackwellson.