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The fabric broke loose in his hand. Crispin froze at the press of steel against his ribs. He lifted his hands and cursed beneath his breath.
“I entrusted her to your care.” The blade dug deeper, making Crispin hiss. “And you failed.”
Crispin turned slowly to face Marian. “I did, and for that, I beg your forgiveness.”
Even in the darkness, he did not miss the flicker of surprise in her expression. She lowered her blade and he breathed in relief. If anyone would run him through without hesitation, it would be Marian. Ruby’s mother was a force to be feared with reverence and respect. She wore all black, from the tunic down to her boots and a warm woolen cloak. As matronly as she seemed, he saw the same fire in her eyes he glimpsed in Ruby’s.
“Until this is resolved, I cannot give you the absolution you seek.” Marian sheathed her blade and grabbed his doublet in her fist. Her gaze searched his face for a long moment before she released him. “You look like you have faced the devil himself and lived to tell the tale.”
Her assessment of his state was not incorrect, but he did not wish to dwell upon it. “What are you doing in the forest? Why are you not inside the castle with Ruby?”
“Yester eve Matthew appeared at my cottage bearing a message from Ruby.” Marian retreated into the forest.
Crispin followed. “What was the message?”
“She requested I gather the rosemary for Guy.” Her simple response struck him as odd.
“What the devil does that mean?” Crispin scowled and lumbered along behind her.
Marian sighed as they approached the horses. “Long ago, I fell in love with a dangerous man. We were caught between loyalties. My allegiance did not align with his. But I loved him, more than any reason could define.” She sighed and turned to face him. A dim ethereal glow radiated around her, and Crispin saw the faded beauty of the woman she used to be.
“What does this have to do with the message?”
“Guy was hated by nearly every person in the land. When he turned on the sheriff, he was imprisoned and sentenced to hang.” She cocked her head and sadness filled her eyes. “I abandoned everything I had ever known to rescue him from certain death. We escaped to Meradin and started a new life together.”
Confused, Crispin ran his hand over his jaw. “I do not understand what this has to do with Ruby or the situation at present.”
Marian pulled a sprig of rosemary from her pocket and held it up between them. “Rosemary is for remembrance. ’Tis a powerful herb, one my husband favored as well as Ruby.”
“How does this help us?” He conceded ignorance, unable to grasp the meaning of her tale.
“The message was a warning for me to stay away. She did not want me to risk myself in coming to her aid.” Marian smiled, but it was tainted by sadness and longing. When she met his gaze, defiance burned in the depths of her knowing eyes. “I would willingly trade my life for hers. She is the Lady of the Forest, the rightful queen of Meradin, the Protector of the People.”
Understanding cascaded through him like the warmth of the summer sun, and he nodded. “As would I.”
“I know, my son.” She rested her hand on his shoulder. “Now, tell me what has transpired.”
As they gathered supplies from the horses, Crispin explained the events since the night of the feast. Marian listened in silence. He attempted to keep the details simple and direct, but the more he spoke, the deeper it carved the effects into his memory. He abhorred how it made him seem weak and ineffective, but this was no confession for his soul, merely a revelation of the truth. A truth he had been unwilling to face for years.
Crispin, as selfish and vain as he seemed, was not an island unto himself. Henry and Ruby were his pillars of strength. Once he would have shunned the idea of being tied so deeply to another person, of being responsible for them. Being on the verge of losing them nearly brought him to his knees. They revealed a side of him he had never been willing to accept.
Silence descended between them when Crispin finished his tale. Marian walked beside him as they returned to the spot where he had left Henry.
“May God have mercy on us all,” she murmured as they crested the ridge, bringing the castle into view. “This will be no simple task, Crispin. You will need to bring the past to light, free yourself from the lies binding you. Only then can you stake your claim with a clear conscience.”
“Francis’s lies will infect the privy council. They will turn against me.” Crispin raked his hand through his hair. “Perhaps I should do as you did. Take Ruby and leave Meradin.”
“Is that truly what you wish? To relinquish your throne, surrender to the man who used subversion and deceit to steal everything you hold dear.” Marian gripped his arm. “He ripped your child from her womb without remorse and gloated.”
The reminder lit a fire in his belly. A low rumbling growl reverberated in his throat at the thought of making Francis suffer for his insidious actions. His child and heir, stolen from him. His wife, broken and grief-stricken. The memory of Ruby’s beautiful tear-stained face remained seared in his mind. She suffered deeply because of Francis. As did Henry. They deserved vengeance for the horrors they endured.
“What I wish is for my brother to suffer as punishment for what he has done.” His fists clenched by his sides. His gaze fell on Henry as they approached. “They deserve peace.”
Marian followed his gaze and nodded. “Aye.” She knelt in the grass beside Henry and gently woke him with a nudge.
“Who—?” His groggy expression faded when he saw Marian. He relaxed against the grass. “Am I dead?”
“Most assuredly not dead.” Marian reached into the bag on her hip and removed a small flagon. “Drink this. ’Twill restore your strength.”
