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I wanted to believe him. I knew I couldn’t, but I so desperately wanted to. It was a heavy blow to learn I’d been made an outlaw in my own town. I knew the possibility had been likely, yet it still pained me to hear.
What will Father think? Or, more importantly, Mama Joan?
My knuckles whitened on the hilt of the dagger. With a flick of my wrist, I could plunge this blade into his soft throat and be done with him.
Darkness, creeping ever closer. Edging my vision, closing around me, wishing me to end Peter Fisher’s life.
Then a voice in my head spoke, clear as day: “It’s not who you are, Robin,” Robert said. “As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right: You don’t have to do this. But he’s not right for the reasons he says. No, if you do this, you’ll taint your soul. Perhaps beyond repairing. The Merry Men will have you completely in their grips, molded to their liking.
“It is the Merry Men who have tried to create this heartless beast inside you. They, who have brought Peter Fisher to your feet, to see how you will react. It is a test. Killing this man is a passing score to the men, yet a failing mark for your everlasting soul.”
My breath caught in my throat, shallow as Robert’s words fluttered through my mind. He spoke so clearly, as if standing behind me, whispering in my ear. Telling his little sister how life worked.
He would never know what a woman such as myself went through. He couldn’t understand the experience—the humiliation, terror, and rage that accompanied such an attack.
Yet I couldn’t shake his words.
My fingers loosened on the dagger hilt. Color came flooding back to my knuckles and fingers.
Peter Fisher smiled like he was born-again, seeing the light for the first time. Instead of the fires of vengeance behind me, he saw the radiance of the pearly gates.
My breath let out on a wheeze, not realizing I’d been holding it so long.
I turned and pushed the dagger flat against Will Scarlet’s chest. He took it and furrowed his brow.
“I can’t do it,” I said, and began walking away.
A moment of flickering silence passed as my boots broke leaves and twigs.
Peter Fisher let out a loud, grateful sigh of relief. “You won’t regret it, Robin of Wilford. You’ve shown your true nature, girl, and—”
Little John’s voice cut him off with a growl, so animal and inhuman it made me turn around to make sure he was still the same flesh-and-blood man I’d come to know.
“She might be too good for such an unholy act, squire, but I don’t share her goodness . . . or her reservations.” He snagged the dagger from Will’s hands and stood in front of Peter Fisher, crouching to get eye level with him. “Tell the devil I’ll be seeing him soon,” he said in a low growl of fire and brimstone.
My hand flew to my mouth as my stomach dropped and ice chilled my veins.
Little John plunged the dagger into Peter Fisher’s stomach before the younger man could respond.
Peter coughed, blood bubbling past his lips. His eyes screwed up with pure agony and shock.
Then John sawed the dagger up and up, through belly, cartilage, bone, and chest. He eviscerated the young squire right in front of everyone.
Peter looked down and watched his own slippery entrails spill out of him in a steaming, bloody heap. He jerked, and his eyes rolled back as he went into shock, collapsing sideways onto the dirt.
His eyes remained open—glassy and afraid. I noted his panting breath, the shallow rise of his chest, and morbidly realized he was still alive for at least ten more seconds before his glassy eyes turned dull and gray.
My body went into shock. I backpedaled when Little John stood to his full, monstrous height, facing me like a lumbering giant.
He frowned at me, tossing the bloody dagger onto the ground. “No one is allowed to harm you, little star. I need you to understand that. Men like Peter Fisher don’t deserve your mercy.”
I couldn’t speak. Could hardly breathe. My throat was constricting around a thick, leathery tongue.
This brutal man had done something I couldn’t do, so easily. But that didn’t make it any easier for me to stomach. No, in fact, I felt queasy and more frightened than ever.
So I turned and ran, stumbling toward the pond at the edge of camp.
Chapter 28
