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I struggled to speak over the lump in my throat. “I don’t know who’s still alive, John. I haven’t seen them since the rescue. And . . . I betrayed them.”
His head reeled. “Betrayed? That’s a harsh—”
“I told them to go and rescue the prisoners about to be executed, while I snuck off and followed Sir Guy instead, like a coward.”
“. . . Who led you to me. There’s no cowardice in what you did, little hope.”
I bit my lip. I wasn’t sure I agreed.
He grabbed my chin, rougher than usual, and whipped my head up to him. “Look at me, Robin. Whatever is beyond those trees, we face together. All right? Life, death, and everything in between.”
I nodded diligently.
“It will be okay. We will survive this, just like we’ve survived everything before it. Right?”
“Right.” I gulped. Then my shoulders sank and I hugged him fiercely with my confidence blooming. “God, it’s so good having you back.”
We left our spot together, and before we’d made it five feet past the tree line, a voice called out: “Who’s that creeping in the darkness?”
It was the voice of Much the Miller’s Son, trying his hardest to sound older than he was. Keeping guard, like an honest Merry Man.
My chest swelled with pride, and I flashed a grin to Little John beside me. “It’s me, Much. Robin.”
Silence.
And then a small squeal. “Ah! Everyone! It’s the lady! She’s returned, she has!”
So much for keeping a quiet watch while supper cooked.
The low rustling and confused murmurs rose immediately from camp, yet all I could hear was the hammering of my heart in my ears.
As John and I stepped forward under the shadow of our torchlight, Much gawked. “And she’s brought a . . . big bug with her!”
I laughed as the lad ran forward and barreled into me with a hug, nearly crushing me. While I would’ve been able to snap him like a twig a few weeks ago, now he had bulked up. He didn’t know his own strength.
Little John had to pry him off me. “That’s enough, little lad.” He glanced at me with a bemused expression on his shadowed face. “We’re looking after whelps now?”
I shrugged and tousled Much’s hair. “It was your idea, wasn’t it? Protecting everyone, no matter how young or old they are?”
“Aye, but it was . . . a dream.” He shook his head, examining me with admiration in his eyes that made me proud and, admittedly, warm between my legs. “You actually did it.”
Other children ran out from camp, absolutely baffling Little John beyond repair.
And then came one of the most familiar voices of all, in a singsong tone that made my heart leap out of my chest.
“Little songbird!”
Alan-a-Dale crossed the space from the camp to the tree line. I rushed forward and threw him into an embrace as strong as Much’s. We kissed, lightly, and he held my face with both hands, fingers trembling. “It’s really you.” His voice was filled with emotion, eyes glassy with unshed tears.
It was enough to make me fight back a sob. “It’s me, Alan. You’re not . . . angry with me?”
“I am,” growled a voice from the shadows.
I spun as Will Scarlet advanced in the blink of an eye, lunged at me, and coiled his hand around the back of my neck. He shoved me against his face in one fluid, abrasive maneuver, and locked our lips in a kiss.
Then he pulled my head back and gave me a crooked smirk. “But I’ll get over it. Because it’s what you do, little thorn: provide the worst stabbing pain in my gut on a daily basis with how bad you make me worry about you.”
I laughed tears from my face. His wicked smile widened.
