The Vengeful Robin Page 7

  Jon swept his hand through his hair, the murmurs clearly bothering him, but he continued to stare me down.

  And when he spoke, everyone quieted. “You’ve been different since I rescued you. All this aggression, temper, being a hermit. It’s not healthy.”

  Desperation caked his face, and I wished with all my heart I could say different, but he was right, I had changed. And there was no going back.

  Once something was broken, you couldn’t put it back together again.

  Jon ripped the sword from my hands before flinging it into the air, where it fell into the mud and splattered people nearby. Then, with his bear-sized hands, he grabbed my arms and shook me slightly. “Why can’t we just be happy here? Me and you. Not fighting every battle. Not going after the girls. Why do you have to do all this?”

  Ripping myself away from him, I stepped back, taking him in.

  Was he really this much of a coward?

  The whispers from earlier had quieted. The people were waiting for what I would tell their fearless leader.

  Instead, I asked my own question. “You're asking me to leave those women there to suffer? To be raped over and over? To be afraid of when they will be used and abused at the hands of those who were supposed to protect them?”

  Looking around, I noticed that more people had showed up. Our voices had probably carried and that had brought us more of an audience. I really didn't want to go against their leader, but at the same time I wasn’t backing down. After this, I knew what people would say, but was it better to be liked, or do what was right?

  He shook his head. “What I’m asking, Robin, is for you to think about us. Not everyone else.”

  I shook my head, hating where this was going. “You know I can't do that. Not after what happened to me. And I can't leave Smite, either.”

  He sneered, the desperation on his face seconds ago long gone. He walked backwards. Away from the crowd. Away from me. “Smite. Now we know what's really going on. You want Smite.”

  Suddenly backtracking his steps, he got up close, his hand tracing around my hip before he leaned down to whisper, “Tell me. Did he do something to make your stay in the dungeon easier… or have you known each other a little longer?”

  Smack!

  Without thought, my hand connected with his cheek, the sting letting me know just how hard I had hit him.

  Venom in my voice, I spat, “Don't you ever say anything like that to me again. You know nothing. Nothing. And if you won’t help me, then I will rescue them and him myself.”

  Jon, not once touching his cheek, stepped back. His men came up to stand behind him, almost as if to protect him from the smaller person in front of him. They had seen their fearless leader get hit. They were picking sides.

  “Whose fault is it that I don’t know? You're the one who shut me out after you got out of the dungeon.”

  My cheeks burned with anger. He’d brought up what had happened to me in front of everyone. Did he think talking about it in the open would make it easier? Or was he just trying to hurt me more than he ever thought he could?

  With tears in my eyes, I blinked furiously, trying to hold them back. “You're right, Jon. I pushed you away. Because I didn't think you would stay.”

  A shadow fell over me. I looked around to see Claius. His giant hands settled on my shoulders, while his earthy scent calmed me.

  “The only people who stood beside me and didn't expect anything were Claius, Lily and Jamie. And I will be forever grateful to them.”

  Straightening my shoulders, I stared at Jon and his men. “Now, will you help me rescue the girls and Smite?”

  Sadness filled Jon's eyes. I couldn’t tell if it was with regret at what he said or what was happening between us. Reluctantly, he turned his eyes to the man behind me.

  My rock.

  Claius.

  “Is that how it’s going to be?”

  Confused at what Jon meant, I glanced back at Claius and knew he understood something I didn't.

  “That’s how it’s always been.” Claius’ deep voice filled the empty space between us and continued to hang between the two men.

  Jon hung his head, seemingly weighed down by the things he couldn’t change and with disappointment at what his friend had just revealed. “I figured.”

  He rocked on his heels, chewing on his lip. Turmoil crossed his features, but when he had come to a conclusion, he ceased his rocking and straightened his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Robin, I really am, but I'm not going to give you my men to go on a suicide mission. They deserve more than to die as cannon fodder.”

  With that, he turned and walked away from me. His men followed, taking my hopes of rescuing Smite and the women with them. My eyes were glued to their retreating backs.

  Claius bent near my ear, his lips barely touching, before whispering, “Don't worry, Robin. Everything will work out.”

  I patted the hand he had placed on my shoulder, if only to reassure him I was okay. That we were okay.

  The crowd around us disbanded, and I realized if it wasn’t for my three friends, I would be utterly alone.

  And I suddenly wished I could admit I was actually okay.

  But everyone knew that I was anything but.

  9

  Smite

  * * *

  The smell of decaying flesh woke me. The stench climbed into my nostrils, overwhelming me and causing me to cough.

  Pain racked my upper body. On instinct, I grabbed for my chest to check for possible broken ribs, before remembering where I was. Chained to the wall, I could only move mere feet without causing myself more harm. The shackles around my arms allowed me to move up and down, but anything else made the probability of shoulder dislocation a sure thing.

  The pain I had finally passed out from earlier ran through me, twisting my insides at the sudden movement. I steeled myself, trying to remain still in an attempt to stop the coughing that jarred me over and over.

  Eyes watering, tears trekked down my face, but finally the pain ebbed, and I slowly began to remember what had happened.

  I had returned from my journey to see Robin, only to discover people waiting for me at the barracks. Three soldiers grabbed me as General Cutler stood to the side, smiling. He allowed the soldiers to beat me and render me barely conscious.

  Judging by the sore ribs, I think they did more than knock me out.

  For fear of hurting myself worse and starting another coughing fit, I gingerly pulled myself up from the floor by putting my back against the cold cement blocks and pushing up.

  The moans of the other prisoners had died down from earlier.

  Best guess? They knew no one here could hear them.

  I tried not to think about how many of them had been put in here for doing what they thought was right—just like me. Though in the end not necessarily getting the ending they had wanted.

  With even breaths, I closed my eyes as I battled the headache that began to slowly form.

  I had to get word to Robin.

  I pressed on my eyelids, begging the hammering in my head to stop.

  If I was getting something as minor as a headache then I must have been hurt worse than what I initially thought. The shots we had been given usually healed us pretty quickly, but it needed help—food, rest. Things I was probably going to go without.

  I moved to try to ease the strain on my arms, but instead sharp pains exploded down my arms and I bit back a moan.

  Yep, the shots definitely had their work cut out for them.

  Maybe I could bribe one of the guards to send her a note. She needed to know something was going to happen.

  Not that she would listen to said guard. If anything, she'd probably kill him just for stepping on the land she called home now.

  Without thinking, I smiled. It quickly turned to a grimace when pain radiated up my jaw.

  Yeah, they went all out in their beating.

  Sitting here wishing Robin would listen to a guard and even do what I said was laughab
le. Robin never, in the short time of getting to know her, did as she was told. She was more likely to hit you for daring to tell her what she should do and then do it her way. That was who she was. And, truth be told, if she were any different, I probably wouldn't feel the way I did about her.

  The main dungeon door creaked. I slid open one eye to see what faith had brought me.

  The rustle of skirts carried to my ear, and I inwardly cringed at the prospect of meeting the owner of the dress.

  Not many women had access to the dungeon, and I only knew of one crazy enough to come down here.

  In a lot of ways, this woman and Robin were the same.

  Ambitious. Stubborn. Strong.

  But where it genuinely mattered, they were night and day.

  Honor. Loyalty. Love.

  Foresight was a bitch, though. Especially when you were young and stupid. I had thought this woman held my world at her fingertips.

  "Hello, Smite."

  The melody of her voice raked against my spine. Like a snake, she was alluring, yet deadly. She was also the last person I wanted to see.

  I opened both eyes, which was rather tricky given they were still slightly swollen. It would have been great if my ribs could heal as fast as a punch to the face, but beggars can't be choosers.

  I was ready to deal with the viper in front of me, but a sigh still fell from my lips. "Hello, Marian."

  She was dressed in an off the shoulder red gown, and her ruby red lips matched it perfectly. She was perfect… to the untrained eye. Everything about her stood out in this setting. Which was what she wanted. To be admired. To be lusted over. From the golden slippers to the coiffed hairdo at the top of her beautiful head.

  How I didn't see it when I was younger, I didn't know.

  Maybe it was the fact we were from different worlds, and I was young and dumb. Basking in the attention of a high born.

  I'll never know. But, like every young boy, I assumed it all started with her low necklines.

  Marian smiled as she wrapped her dainty fingers with polished nails around the cell door, "Oh, Smite, what were you thinking? Did you honestly think your little plan with Robin would work?"

  I heaved myself off the wall. I couldn’t let her see me as weak… vulnerable. My shackles swung above my head, the loud clang echoing throughout the dungeon.

  I refused to let her look down on me now. In the palace and in the bedroom, she might have been my superior at one time. But here? And now?

  She was my equal.

  With a confidence I didn't have, I eyed her. "Well I'd say it worked for a while. And," I looked around the cell, "unless you have Robin hidden away here somewhere, I'd say it's still working."

  Her smile fell, but she quickly caught herself before plastering on another.

  Marian was, if anything, a great actress.

  "That, my dear, is temporary. John assured me she would be taken care of soon."

  Her smile remained intact, while my stomach coiled with dread. Even if she didn't have Robin now, she was too confident.

  Which meant she knew something.

  Her finger trailed down one of the iron rods and her eyes locked on mine before she whispered, "And with Robin finally gone, you can put these silly thoughts of heroism out of your head. Then we can get back to how we were."

  Her words nauseated my stomach. At fourteen, I found out where her taste swayed and for her, the younger, the better.

  And I didn't want to go into that dark place again.

  With images in my mind I used to keep tightly closed off, I spit on the ground, trying to control the helplessness being here was causing. Marian was the perfect villain. Beautiful and basically royalty. Not many thought to ask the lady if she took the young man without consent. Because who would say no to her?

  My stomach sour with the memories, I did the only thing I could do, and turned her words on her and reminded her what she was. "Get back to what? Where I fuck you? Being your toy with a dick while you pull the strings of Prince John?"

  Her eye twitched at either my foul words or the truth, before she cleared her throat and regained her composure. "It's King now, Smite. And if I were you, I'd be cautious with what I said to the future queen."

  I barked out a laugh, forgetting about my ribs for a moment.

  In Fraser, while John had been named King instantly, Marian had not been named Queen. It wasn't required. In the event that the king needed a queen who could forge ties with other kingdoms, he had the option of taking another woman for the spot.

  So, when the time had come for Marian to be named Queen, he hadn't. In fact, John hadn't acknowledged her all. And until then… she was just his wife. And I loved reminding her.

  "You, a queen? Does King John know about your penchant for young, virginal lads?"

  Her face gave away her answer.

  "I thought so. You belong together. Tell me, Marian, do you plan to continue your dalliances when you are Queen? What will the people think about yours and King John’s extracurricular activities?”

  Her hands whitened as they grasped tighter to the rods of my cell door. She sneered, "Doesn't matter. Your girlfriend will soon be in here with you, and I'm sure John has plans for her."

  I jerked against the shackles, biting back my words. The thought of Robin being back in this godforsaken cage made me sick. What they would do to her... I had first-hand knowledge of how she was treated. And I never wanted her to be treated that way again.

  In control of my emotions, I tried to act like her words had just washed over me. But we both knew better.

  I lifted my eyebrows nonchalantly. "I think Robin is going to be a little harder to catch than what you think, Marian."

  My comment had angered her. Good. I wanted her angry. I wanted her to forget about the girl that I wished I could protect. At this point, I'd do anything to find out what they had planned, so I continued to push. "After all, she's outwitted you and your boy toys for months, hasn't she?"

  Marian's cheeks turned red at the mention of her boy toys and failed attempts of capturing Robin, but, surprising me, she smiled and said in a sing-song voice, "Things change, my lovely Smite. Things have a way of changing…"

  She sounded so confident it chilled me, and I couldn't stop myself from asking, "What do you know that I don't, Marian?"

  If possible, her smile widened. "That's for me to know and for you to… well." She licked her bottom lip, causing it to redden even more. "I could be persuaded to maybe tell you a little bit if you help me… Ya know, for old times’ sake?"

  At that moment, I hated her.

  When I said I would do anything for Robin, I meant it.

  She continued to smile at me, knowing she had won. That she had found my weakness. And that weakness was Robin. Even if Robin didn't know it yet.

  Marian pulled the key to the lock out of her tight-laced corset. "This is going to be fun, handsome."

  10

  Robin

  * * *

  "Princess, a moment please."

  After Jon had left, I had wanted to lick my wounds in peace, away from the smirks and knowing eyes of the other women. Embarrassment heated my cheeks as I turned to go inside my tent. The last thing I wanted was to have an audience seeing how much him walking away had affected me. But the small, gruff voice had me pausing to see who had used the title that I hated.

  Dressed in the customary uniform of the men here in the camp, the man before me would have looked like any other man, except for some key points.

  He was a dwarf, for starters.

  Small as a young man, he carried a spry beard across his face. The hair on his head showed signs of aging, sprinkles of silver throughout.

  But what garnered the most attention, more than his size, were his parts.

  Mechanical parts, that is.

  Years ago, the scientist at the palace worked with different types of metals, wires, and chemicals to form what many saw as life-saving alterations. Before the shots had been invented, many pe
rished from simple wounds.

  My grandfather, King Edwin, asked for a solution. With time and test subjects, a new alternative was born.

  After that, when someone was hurt, whether it be in battle or a simple farming accident, they were sent to the scientist to be saved. Altered.

  During training, I remembered hearing the older soldiers say many would go through the old brass door to see the scientist and never return. Clearly this man had.

  With his one good eye, he glanced back at me. Where his other eye should have been, a piece of red glass showed my reflection. The piece of glass shifted as I moved, the wires and bolts protruding from it moving it where it needed to go.

  A beautiful piece of work, his eye was the first of two pieces of his machinery. I heard the hissing before actually looking lower and seeing the machinery that was his leg. The piece, about two feet long in length, encased his whole leg as it hissed and churned while he remained stock still. The ever-moving parts caught my eye, but I tried to not stare at either his alien parts or his strange height. While his stature in itself was something strange, I had seen the use of mechanical parts before. Few men survived battles this gruesome, but when they did—the ones who survived the surgery, at least—came back like this.

  I put my hand out and grasped his for a moment before dropping it. "Just call me Robin."

  He nodded, then looked behind him, watching the last few people scurry off. He probably didn't want anyone to know he was talking to the fallen princess. Not only had I fallen from my seat as the next destined queen, but also, I had fallen as a soldier. And now Jon had shown everyone what his relationship to me meant.

  Nothing.

  While the man was looking around, I noticed Claius had remained close by.

  Just out of reach.

  That was Claius.

  When his green eyes caught mine, he closed the distance between us. With slow movements, he placed his hand on my shoulder and, for a second, we were back in those woods. Just me and him. His warmth tugging at me. Calming me.