28. Baron
BARON
Iground my teeth in frustration as I strode away from the punishment yard.
I’d just carried out the third whipping of the day and my arm ached from it.
My stomach turned every time I thought of the men watching, their faces hard and satisfied, as though brutality was simply another form of discipline.
How I envied all the other Merry Men. They’d been given easy jobs.
Dangerous, perhaps, and complicated in their own ways, but none of them had to stand in the open where everyone could see and act the part of a brutal, bloodthirsty savage.
None of them had to become the very thing they hated.
Before she decided to run off to Sherwood Forest, I had hoped to see Laurel during Festival Week. I’d even thought that amid the festivities, we might have been able to reconcile. A foolish notion, perhaps, but I had hoped for it anyway. But she was avoiding me, and she was very good at it.
I told myself it was for the best. With my platoon here, she was more likely to be recognized if they saw us together. She was safer away from me but knowing that didn’t make the distance any easier.
After she took my horse, I’d forced the men to search the grounds and castle several times.
It was fortunate that Robin Hood had made fools of my father and Prince John so many times before.
No one seemed particularly shocked that Robin Hood might have slipped into the castle grounds and stolen the Sheriff of Nottingham’s horse.
If anything, the men were embarrassed they hadn’t caught him and I wasn’t assigned any blame.
That suited our purposes well enough. It was beneficial for everyone to think Robin Hood had truly paid the castle a visit.
Now, no one suspected he was really tracking down King Richard in Vienna.
Even the supposed break-in didn’t seem to trouble Prince John for long.
He practically skipped down the hallways lately, so thrilled was he at the potential success of his plan to take the throne.
And all the while, I was miserable. I was trusted by the enemy because I was so much like one of them.
With Laurel and James both gone to Sherwood Forest, I had no one and Festival Week only highlighted that fact.
All around me, everyone paired off and went to games, feasts, and events.
Soldiers bragged about how many girls they’d danced with.
Even the stable boy had apparently found someone willing to accompany him to the activities, and I was entirely alone.
I had worked hard to become feared and it seemed that I had succeeded a little too well.
After yet another day of ignoring happy couples and pretending not to see every clasped hand, every shy smile, and every stolen glance, I returned to my room and shut the door behind me.
The silence inside was immediate and heavy.
No Laurel was waiting at my desk with her feet propped on my reports.
It was just a cold room with my desk overflowing with an endless stream of reports.
I sat on the edge of the bed and stared blankly at the wall for several minutes before I glumly pulled off one boot, then the other.
Something fluttered out of the second boot and landed near my foot.
It was a small, curled scrap of parchment, yellowed from being crammed out of sight for who knew how long. Instantly, I knew what it was and my heart seemed to shrink painfully in my chest.
It was one of Laurel’s notes. Slowly, I bent and picked it up, then smoothed it open. Her handwriting greeted me.
Surprise! How long did this one take you to find?
Can’t wait to see you again soon.
Love, Laurel
I read it once, then again and then a third time, though the words didn’t change.
She must have written that back when she still wanted to see me, back when she still slipped notes into my things for the pleasure of imagining me finding them later.
Love, Laurel
Those words struck deepest.
I pressed the paper flat beneath my thumb and tried to breathe through the ache opening inside my chest. I could picture her hiding it, her eyes bright with mischief. She had probably been proud of herself for slipping it so deep into my boot, knowing that I’d miss it for weeks.
I had been patient. I had given her distance because James told me to.
I had told myself that if I stayed loyal to the mission, if I proved I had not joined only for her, if I waited long enough, perhaps she would come back when she was ready.
But waiting had done nothing except expand that excruciating, crushing ache inside of me.
I was tired of pretending I could endure this calmly.
I was tired of letting pride, fear, and my past stand between us and our potential happiness without even trying to figure things out.
If Laurel truly wanted nothing more to do with me, then I would have to accept it.
I couldn’t force her to forgive me. I wouldn’t beg her to love a man she no longer trusted.
But I could still fight. I could apologize for the things I had said and the things I had done. I could show her that I was still here, still trying, still choosing the mission and the Merry Men and the better life she had once made me believe was possible.
I folded the note carefully and held it in my fist.
I had to see her again.
I felt like I would burst otherwise.
The time for waiting patiently was over.
I was ready to fight for her.