Chapter 13
Robin pressed the hard spot above her nose to ease the tension in her head. She knew she was asking her steward for the impossible, but she also trusted the woman to figure it out. They had a greater goal here.
She dropped her hand and found herself staring straight into the eyes of a certain crown prince, and all the tension rushed right back into her head.
That greater goal would be completely nullified if Gareth had followed Ian to her humble manor.
“I told you not to make contact with me here,” Robin said, her voice terse, frustration from the previous conversation spilling over.
She broke her gaze from his, looking quickly around the clearing to ensure that none of the rescued Majis were in eyesight.
Of course, Ulli would have seen to that before leading Ian beyond the front gate—short as it was.
“I was careful,” Ian responded, taking a step closer.
He looked exhausted and out of place in his well-made, dust-covered riding clothes.
His dark hair was windswept and wild, his face lined with weariness.
But his eyes, serious as ever, were fixed on her face with desperation. He needed something from her.
She sighed.
“Hopefully, no one will even discover that I have left the castle for several more days,” Ian continued.
“According to the story Onric is telling, I am currently quite ill and stuck in bed.” He took another step closer so that he was standing directly in front of her.
“I need your help,” he said, his voice lower so only she could hear.
“Gareth has taken control of the castle.”
“I know,” Robin replied. “Word reaches me quickly.”
“Did word reach you that my father is injured?” Ian asked.
Robin nodded. She had heard that as well.
“How badly?” she asked, not sure she could trust her sources.
“I only heard that he is in a deep sleep?” A member of River’s Talon had arrived on horseback late the previous night, sharing the news.
However, it was clear that the information about the castle attack had been filtered through Gareth, and Robin was not sure how much of it to believe.
Ian nodded, his face somehow more weary than before. “He was not awake when I left last night. The physicians do not know if he will wake. His leg is also broken.”
Robin looked up at him, her exhausted mind too full to take on another person’s problems. “Please tell me you are only here to take Rowena home?”
Ian shook his head, not even smiling at her attempt to jest. He could probably hear the desperation behind her words. “I need to take the castle back from Gareth,” he said, speaking quietly so that no one else could hear him. “Before he hurts another member of my family.”
Robin said nothing, waiting for him to make an actual ask.
“His men outnumber us,” Ian finally continued. “I need your help to take back the castle.”
Robin stared at him, unable to breathe in against the weight on her chest. She would much rather be arguing with Ilida. “Let us speak elsewhere,” she said. She led the way further into the clearing away from the manor. The members of her community gave her little notice as she walked through them.
Ian, walking beside her, received more than a few curious glances.
“And what help do you think I could provide?” she asked.
Ian looked at her, but then he looked away before answering. “I do not fully know the breadth of your reach, but you have resources, a network of people who already believe that Gareth is dangerous.”
“Have you forgotten how recently I tried to take gold from you?” Robin asked, turning to him quickly enough to catch the small ghost of a smile that flickered across his face. “Resources are something that I sorely lack.”
“Help me,” Ian said, his voice sincere. He picked up his pace, walking slightly in front of her so he could turn to face her. “Help me take back control of the castle and thwart Gareth in his plans. I can repay you in gold.”
“Hah.” Robin wanted to laugh. “What do you think I have been doing with your father’s gold these last ten years?” She turned around, sweeping her hand toward the cottages they had since walked past as they neared the open fields.
“He has been sending you gold?” Ian asked.
“I am his ward,” Robin said. “When he sent me away, he said he would never ask Lockwood for any taxes, rather that he would provide me with gold every season. He has been true to his word.” She opened the gate to a wooden stable.
“I am happy to hear that,” Ian said. “He never spoke of what happened in that meeting. Only once.”
Robin did not want to relive the painful memory of when Frederich had sent her away, saying that her rebellious nature was not suitable for his children to be exposed to. He did not have to state that he did not approve of her then-growing relationship with his eldest son.
She’d always wondered how he had broken the news to Ian. She had, perhaps naively, expected that Ian would see things her way, maybe stand up to his father and demand that she stay. Instead, she had ridden away from the castle with a broken heart and a pouch full of gold coins.
Robin risked one look over her shoulder.
Standing open to the world—though now closed to her—a wide wooden gate broke through the thick castle wall. In that open gateway, a single lone figure watched her retreat.
Ian. Tall, lanky, and far too human to be the future king of Iseldis.
His face had been so cold, so prince like, as he’d said goodbye.
He had not even kissed her. She had wanted him to, but it was like he had retreated inside of himself. She’d seen that happen to him at times, but it never been with her or caused by her.
It hurt.
She wished she had been brave enough to lean in herself and offer a small kiss. To let him know that she understood why he was suffering.
She sat up a little straighter, easing her grip on Humphrey’s mane. This was not the end.
She would still write to him. He would visit her. Just the thought of sharing Lockwood with him made her smile.
She raised her hand in a final farewell, attempting to breathe through her rapidly closing throat.
Turning to face the road ahead, she swallowed several times. Her hands squeezed and twisted the leather reins that guided Humphrey’s head.
Her poor donkey. His trot was stiff, likely from the brisk cold in the early morning air. But he also frequently sensed and responded to her own emotions, which, today, were far from calm.
“This is not goodbye,” she reassured herself. “We will write to each other. Often.”
She focused her gaze on the waking city in front of her, but the image of a lone lanky boy stayed imprinted on her mind.
Home was ahead. And she had a bag of gold tied tightly under the layers of her skirt.
King Frederich had promised to ensure she was financially taken care of—likely a way to ease his own conscience after sending his own ward away from the castle. While she had enjoyed her time with the royal family over the last few seasons, the castle had never fully felt like home.
No, home was a modest wooden manor deep in Lockwood Forest. And she would be there today to see it in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun.
As they left the noisy streets of the city, Robin became ever more aware of the pouch of jingling coins at her waist. She wanted to open the bag and toss handfuls of her bounty out to every sad-eyed child they passed.
But the money she carried was the king’s money.
Gold that he’d sent with her to last through the end of greenreign.
Gold to support her and all those her family—she, now—was responsible for in Lockwood.
Washed-out farmlands, fields that should have been full of fresh harvests but that were now flooded and dying.
Two of the king’s guard rode at her back, escorting her safely back home.
Their watchful eyes kept her hands on her reins and her eyes on the road.
The king’s gold, now hers, was hers to spend as she saw fit as soon as she was home.
But here, on the king’s road with the king’s guard, she felt watched.
Judged. Frederich wanted her and her fiery ways far away from his impressionable children and court.
She would use the gold to help the people of Lockwood. But, perhaps, she could spend some of it on something to spite the king. Maybe she could give it to a common thief? Someone to whom Frederich would apply a stricter form of justice.
Even if King Frederich would never know where his gold had been spent, she found a certain pleasure in imagining all the ways she could use it in which he would disapprove.
She could gift it to a rebellious traitor, or even a Majis! Ha. How would King Frederich even comprehend his money being gifted to a magic wielder?
Robin entered the old wooden stable near the back of the clearing. It had long ago gotten too small to house their growing horse herd, but her favorite mount still lived inside it. The comfortably familiar stench of dung and sweat hit her nose just as an excited bray washed over her ears.
“Good morning, Humphrey.” Her voice dropped to a deeper register as she cooed at her old friend. “I know, I know. I am late.”
“He looks well,” Ian said from behind her.
“He is as ornery as ever,” Robin said, scooping up a fresh armful of straw. “But still a sweet boy despite his old age.”
She dumped the feed into his trough and scratched that spot he liked between his ears as he bent forward to nibble on the straw.
“At least it costs nothing to keep him fed,” she said. “Perhaps Ilida could try feeding people straw along with their wood chips.” She turned to face Ian, keeping her hand on Humphrey for support. “I cannot help you save the castle,” she said bluntly.
“Our soldiers will fight with us,” Ian said, stepping closer to her as his words spilled out faster. “You have the people, do you not? Together we could create a plan, infiltrate the castle, and remove Gareth.”
“How much bloodshed would that cause and for what gain?” Robin replied. “Even if we were to kill Gareth himself, he has soldiers, generals, councilors—all who will happily do anything to either kill the Majis or use them. I will not risk the lives of my people to save your castle.”
“To save my family,” Ian corrected her. His arms were crossed, but his voice was soft.
“I care about your family,” Robin said, adding gentleness to her words.
“But what about the families I am trying to save? The Majis Gareth is bringing over from Istroya to torture and drain for his chaos magic? The farmers who will starve this silverreign because Gareth’s soldiers have taken all their crops and livestock?
The people of this kingdom who need more support from their king? ”
“And you think that my father and his councilors are unaware of this?” Ian replied. “That we do not know that our people are starving? We have lowered the taxes, we are feeding half the city from the castle kitchens, we have been doing all we can to prepare for the Majis threat—”
“The fabricated Majis threat,” Robin cut in.
“We know that now,” Ian said, his voice rising. “But we have not had time to adjust our strategy based on this new information.”
Robin felt her own anger rising in turn. “Perhaps if your king had broadened his sense of justice several years ago to see the truth that was right in front of him, you would have had time!”
“Yet no one was brave enough to show us the truth.” Ian’s jaw jutted forward as he took a step back, staring down at her.
“You would not have listened,” Robin replied, her voice almost a yell.
She did not want to think about the implication of his words.
It was only after she had left the castle and discovered that some of her father’s oldest tenants had been harboring a Majis in Lockwood Forest that she had come to learn the truth herself.
Ian relaxed his tense stance, defeated. “No,” he said, honestly. “We would not have. We were too caught up in our own fear to consider an alternate truth.”
“I do not want your family to be in danger,” Robin said, softening her words again. “But I have too many people who are relying on me. I cannot divert my attention to saving the kingdom when the kingdom has failed to save its own people.”
Ian stepped around her, reaching out to pet Humphrey.
Robin watched her traitorous donkey lean into his touch with a happy huff.
Ian remained silent for several long moments. “I cannot return to the castle,” he said finally.
Robin nodded once in understanding. “With your father incapacitated . . .” She did not have to finish the thought.
“Can I stay here?” Ian asked, removing his hand from Humphrey and turning toward her fully.
Robin felt some of the anger in her chest ease at the humble change in his request. But she slowly shook her head. “I cannot allow it,” she said, reluctant but firm. “It would be too risky to communicate directly with the castle. I cannot have Gareth turn his eyes here.”
“Not as a guest,” Ian said. “Let me be a member of River’s Talon, or one of your bandits. I can work with you, learn from you. No one needs to know that I am a prince.”
“I think it is too late for that,” Robin said.
Ian was barely taller than she was, so she could look up at him without tilting her head back.
It would be a risk, letting him in. She had already shown Meena and Sol the extent of her operations here, but that had been easy. Sol was a Majis. Meena was his wife.
This was the crown prince. A boy she had known who was now a man she did not fully trust.
But what choice did she have? She would not fight for his castle, but she could not turn him away.
“I have already given Meena and Sol my bed,” she said. “There is no room in the main house; even the cellars are full. You would be staying in a tent until we can build more cottages.”
“That is fine,” Ian replied. “I have spent many a night under the stars with the army on patrols.”
“And you follow my rules. My code. We only take half the gold—”
“I know your code.” Something that might have been amusement touched his eyes. “I’ve been on the receiving end of it.”
Robin felt her mouth twitch in response.
Ian tossed a coin between them. “From Katharine,” he said.
Robin caught the coin as it flew toward her.
“And from me,” Ian said, tossing another. “Get that girl her tonic.”