Page 161 of Huntress of Sherwood


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“Aye?” Will said, smirking at the boy. “Well, this one probably shaved off three of them, at least, lad.”

Much chuckled. “Gives me a good seven or eight left, then, don’t it?”

I snickered with Will, locking eyes with him. Mathematics might not be Much’s strong suit, but you can’t deny his zest.

Will’s handsome face searched mine, and I noticed the plea in his expression. His eyes went south, and his face twisted with something like scorn and shock. “What is . . .”

He stiffened as he reached for my neck. I tried to swat his hand away, but he was too insistent, and grabbed my chin to tilt my head. “You’re going to tell me what the fuck happened here, little thorn.”

His voice brooked no argument. It wasn’t a question.

He glared at the indentations of the chain link shackles that crisscrossed around my neck.

I gulped over a sore, throbbing throat. “He’s dead,” I said simply, speaking about my attacker. “Later,” I reminded him. “If you think that’s bad, you should see my side.”

Will bared his teeth, flared his nostrils.

Then he relented and shook his head.

For once, the young man didn’t say the first angry thing that came to his mind. He let me have this one, because he could tell how exhausted I was.

I leaned my head against Will’s shoulder, sighing for the first time in ages. My breathing was ragged, and my eyelids drooped instantly.

I closed my eyes.

Robin . . . Robin . . .

“Robin?!”

I jerked up from Will’s shoulder to the sound of a shrill voice. The dizziness of sleep evaporated in an instant, replaced by cacophonic confusion. Will tensed next to me, coming to wakefulness at the same time as me.

I had no idea how long I’d been asleep, but my entire body ached.

We whipped our heads over to Maria, whose face was shocked and stricken, mouth fallen open in stupefaction.

She stared down at Much’s head in her lap.

The boy’s face was paler than before.

He stared up at the tarp of the carriage with glassy eyes.

“No, no, no,” I gasped, crawling down the bench to join them. “Much! Wake up!”

Will shoved next to me with a growl, kneeling over the boy. “Didn’t you hear your chieftess? Wake up!”

Tears burned my eyes. I put a hand to my mouth, stunned and shocked. He was so young.

Will grabbed the boy’s collar and shook him, rage twisting his features. Much’s body was limp as Will shook him. “Six, Much! You have six fucking lives left!” Will screamed in the boy’s face. “Now wake up and call me a mean bug again you fucking whelp!”

“Will!” I sobbed, and wrapped my arms tight around him from behind, pulling his arms against his body and away from Much. I breathed against his ear, felt his heart thumping against my chest, and held him close.

“Please,” I whispered, tears trickling down my face. “Let him rest.” I massaged the back of Will’s neck, even as his body trembled with pure anger. “Let him rest.”

Maria wept with great hacks that stole her breath. She buried her forehead against Much’s forehead.

We stared down at Much the Miller’s Son.

Agony worse than any wound I’d taken seized my heart and squeezed all the life out of it.

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