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That didn’t fit neatly on the puzzle board, however. Why would Sir Guy of Gisborne set up an ambush at the ruins after already routing Little John and his people?
It must be because he was waiting for someone else to arrive.
. . . Me.
My heart twisted at the thought. It made me nauseous. It also led to my next logical idea: Had my father employed Sir Guy of Gisborne to retrieve me, as I’d originally imagined?
For a short time, I thought Guy could have been an ally. Hunting for me out of obligation for the paid commission from Father. Then I learned of his history with Little John, and I ran into those black-cloaked men in Wilford, who were surely part of his company, and I tossed that notion aside.
I leaned back to stare up at the night sky. My mind was going in so many directions. It made this whole decision-making thing difficult.
Then Robert said in my ear, “You’re halfway there, sister. Don’t give up. You didn’t find what you were looking for in Nottingham. Your mission is not complete. Find the people who actually mean something to you, Robin.”
I abruptly sat up. Robert was right.
What else had Little John taught me? Never give up on a job once I set my mind to it.
As much as I wanted to find the guys, I had to hope they were fine. Maybe, against all odds, they’d find me once they learned I hadn’t stayed with Tuck in Nottingham.
That is if they’re still alive!
The idea that Guy of Gisborne could have slaughtered the gang I’d come to care so much about make my skin crawl. Those divots in the grass that I’d seen, as if bodies had been dragged through the dirt to the ruins . . . they unnerved me.
I can’t think about that right now.
I wished I’d had more time with Brandon before he’d died. Maybe he could have told me where the Merry Men would go next, or what happened to them.
I stood from the pond’s edge, and noticed I’d been absentmindedly twirling a leaf in my fingers. I let the leaf drop and it fluttered onto the surface of the pond.
No great epiphany came to me from watching the leaf. But it did calm my racing mind, my thundering heart. I recalled the words from that strange soothsayer, Wulfric. “Follow your heart, and no matter if you stray from your path, know that there is always a route back to the ones who will keep you true to yourself. Hold on to your convictions and you may become great. Good luck, Robin of Loxley.”
The man hadn’t known my fucking name. Could he have possibly been a figment of my fracturing mind, in the way Robert was?
I blinked, staring at the leaf as the pond started to flood over it, creeping in toward its center, sinking it below the surface.
I can’t go to the next location on the map because of Guy’s incessant forest-wide search. I probably can’t stay in Sherwood at all, or I’ll be captured. Which means I can’t search for the Merry Men, as much as my heart is begging me to.
No. I had to finish the job I started in Nottingham and Wilford, like Robert suggested. I needed to find my parents after their mysterious vanishing act from Wilford. I owed it to my uncle, at least, as his dying wish when he barged through the barleygrass to save me like a knight in shining armor.
Even more, I owed it to myself. I hadn’t seen my mother in days. I needed to confront my damned father, once and for all. If he was responsible for the hunt put on by Sir Guy, I needed to make him call off the dogs.
Even if I never got to see the Merry Men again, and became trapped in my own house under the firm heel of my father, it was something I needed to do. A sacrifice I had to make for the sake of keeping the Merry Men safe.
When I turned around and took Mercy’s worn leather reins in my hand, I sighed and nodded.
Real or not, unintentional or not, Wulfric’s mystical words had given me a clue.
There was only one place I could think of that didn’t have the rot of Sir Guy, or the Sheriff of Nottingham, or even Sherwood Forest staining it.
And, suddenly, as if it had been staring me in the face all along, I knew where I needed to go.
Chapter 44
Little John
We tucked ourselves away under the thorny cover of a bramble, to wear the night out. As dawn approached, our gang made ready to leave. We were constantly on the run, and I couldn’t envision that stopping anytime soon.
Maybe Will was right. For all his anger and arrogance—his penchant for violence—perhaps I was growing soft in my older age. I wasn’t as daring as I used to be; not as committed to the old games, the sly jobs, the robberies and pilfering.
