I pulled my leg back up, and I drew the shutter closed behind me but I didn’t move. I just sat there, in the window, wondering what I had done.

My heart were thrumming like someone were playing it on strings. I didn’t sleep, just took in as much as I could about the chamber. It looked the same as it had before: big chairs by the fire, the two trunks, a bed. A big bed. Gisbourne were sprawled out in it, and it were like watching a bear. It weren’t something I’d step close to, but if it were sleeping there weren’t no harm in looking.

He looked broader than I remembered. His hair were shaggy in sleep and his big back were bare and muscled over. He were built like John, all bumps and lumps and trenches in between. He were strong. Stronger than me.

It were full sunlight before he moved, and then only when a manservant came into the room. He looked at me and went over to Gisbourne, calling his name until Gisbourne woke with a growl like a beast.

“My lord, the prince will be arriving soon. You must dress.”

“Fine. Eadric, find a lady to dress my wife as well.”

“Wife, my lord?” he asked.

Gisbourne sat up. “The thing that looks like vermin in the window.”

Eadric looked at me, and scowling at him didn’t make him stop. “Yes, my lord,” he said, leaving.

Gisbourne dragged himself up, standing naked before me. My cheeks set to blushing but I stared at him and he stared at me with a frown. “Christ,” he muttered finally. He dragged on a pair of hose and an undertunic with a grimace, striding over to me.

My hands went to shakes and I balled the good one into a fist to make it stop.

He reached for me, but I ducked under his arm.

Grabbing my shirt, he whipped me against the wall. “Be. Still,” he growled.

I tried to knee him in the bits but he blocked me, using most of his big body to push me back against the wall. He pushed his arm against my pipes and I whipped my head around and some God-awful sound that were fair close to a whimper came out my mouth.

“Jesus Christ!” he roared in my face. “Stop moving!”

I stopped. I were shaking hard and hating every footstep that brought me here.

He looked at my bruises, it seemed, then let me go. My blood were moving too fast, making me shiver and shake, and I slunk away from him. “Who hit you?”

I spat a curse at him.

“You damn well better speak right when we’re around other people,” he snapped at me. “It’s bad enough that you have the hair of a boy. The bruises, however, I can’t say I mind.”

Eadric and a young woman came back into the room without so much as a knock. I had forgotten this bit of noble life—there weren’t never a moment to yourself, never a moment alone.

Which, considering my husband were like to kill me, maybe it weren’t such a hardship.

The servants threw open the trunks, and my cheeks filled with blood. One of his godforsaken trunks was full of women’s clothing. For me.

He’d known I would come to him.

The lady’s maid had a pot of white and a brush with her, but when she went to paint my face, Gisbourne looked up from where Eadric was dressing him proper. “No,” he called. “Don’t paint her.”

“My lord, the bruises—”

“Do not make him repeat himself, Mary,” said Eadric.

Mary bobbed and set to dressing me instead. First she pulled off my clothing, taking my knives from me one by one, and I felt blushes burn over my whole skin as Gisbourne kept his eyes on me. I shook and felt water in my eyes, but I just glared back at him. She put the long linen dress over my head, then the first kirtle, a heavy tunic that spread to the ground. She put a second one over it, heavier still and lined in fur, that only went to my knees. Then she tugged tight sleeves up over the linen to match the first kirtle, tying them to the tunic.

She clucked over my hair before deciding on a velvet band and gold net that covered my whole head and hair besides. Gisbourne smirked at me, and it were all I could do not to tear it all off and stomp it in the fire.

“Come along, love,” he sneered, offering his hand to me.

I walked past his hand without so much as a glance his way.

He lashed out, grabbing my neck like a dog and dragging me backward, fingers biting hard into my skin and making me twist. “You will observe proper etiquette, Marian. You haven’t forgotten it, I trust?”

This time I managed to get him in the bits, and he howled and dropped me. “You want me to be some proper thing, you take your damn hands off me,” I snapped at him.

He straightened with a snarl and took my good hand, squeezing tight and leading me out of the room.

Sometime after I had latched the shutters in Gisbourne’s chambers up, it had started to snow. It were something of a blessing, truth be told, because the world weren’t near as cold when it were snowing. The servants brought us heavy cloaks lined full with fur, and as little as I liked any of this, I found myself snuggling deep into the cloak. It were uncommon warm and soft and felt like the first thing in months what were kind to me.

We didn’t have far to go. The upper bailey were full of nobles in bright, expensive things, all assembled and waiting for their prince. Most were lords and ladies from the royal court, I reckoned, for none had shown their faces round Nottingham before.

The castle weren’t the same, neither. It were clean and tidy, and if there were some of the wall unfinished still, I couldn’t see from where I stood. Pine garlands and streamers of cloth were decorating the place, swinging in the breeze to catch the notice of a prince.