The snow were blowing right for my mug, and I kept blinking and sneezing against it.

Gisbourne squeezed my arm overhard. “Be still, you animal,” he growled.

I tore my arm away from him.

There were knights that came up the bailey first, causing an awful ruckus with their banners and their armor and their swords clattering around. They parted, and this were a set of two huge snow-white destriers, draped with silks and royal emblems. A man and a woman sat on top of them, and they stood, letting their horses hoof about while more knights came behind them and the “common folk” flooded in last. They were the men from the wall, women from the kitchens, all the castle workers—a captive, adoring crowd.

The bailiff stepped forward, made small by the prince’s display. He said words of greeting to him that I couldn’t hear, and then he turned to the people and shouted, “Lords, ladies, and all those assembled, I give you Princess Isabel and Prince John of England!”

People cheered and clapped for him. I didn’t. I weren’t the cheering sort. The people weren’t cheering for him in truth, they were just yelling to have something to yell for.

And then the big horse shifted again, and I saw across the space to where people had parted and someone stepped to the front of the crowd.

Rob. It were Rob, and he were staring at me.

“My dear people,” the prince shouted, with much more effect than the bailiff had. “I have learned of the grievous wrongs done to you by my former representative, the sheriff of Nottingham. It shall not stand. I have come here to rectify the situation and personally ensure that the man I choose this time is the best for my interests, but most of all, for my people. For you!” he shouted, raising his arms.

The people cheered back at him. He were young, a few years past twenty at best. Younger than I thought of a prince. I knew that he were more than ten years younger than King Richard, but seeing him were strange. You heard so much about a body in legend and stories and song, it were odd to see him true.

He lowered his arms, and the people lowered their cries. “So I shall judge this, fairly by all accounts, and have a contest to ensure the fitness of your lord. In two days time, a tournament shall begin. There shall be three parts—first, a joust, to prove to you his valor. Second, the melee and contest of swords, to prove to you his strength. Finally, there shall be the crowning event—an archery contest, to prove his most sound wisdom, his keen eye, and his superior judgment. To the winner of this final event shall the title fall.”

My mouth watered to do it but I didn’t much dare to spit on the ground. A game? He were choosing the next sheriff based on a game?

The people didn’t agree with me. They cheered and cheered, and I looked at Gisbourne, with a fair smug look on his face.

Maybe it weren’t even much of a game after all.

Chapter Seven

The prince dismounted and were led inside. He looked at Gisbourne and motioned him forward, and so Gisbourne grabbed my hand vengeful hard and dragged me forward. I looked back at Rob, standing there still, staring at me. I couldn’t see his heart on his face. I couldn’t know if he were angry, sad, or hateful toward me.

Gisbourne tugged so hard I nearly fell off my feet, but I were held up by the rush of people, closing like a wake to follow the prince.

Knights set up in the halls, blocking people from passing, but we were let pass at every point.

“I can damn well walk!” I snapped as Gisbourne kept his hold on me.

“It’s so much more entertaining to drag you, my love,” he said, tossing the words over his shoulder.

He stopped sharp at a guarded door. I knew where we were—this were the sheriff’s old quarters, the nicest room in the place. The guards opened the door to an antechamber with still more guards and we went in.

A young lord in an overpuffed green velvet tunic stood there. “Gisbourne,” he greeted, with a smile so thin I could bare see his lips, “so good to see you again.”

“My lord de Clare,” Gisbourne greeted, bowing. “May I introduce to you my lady wife, Marian of Leaford. Marian, this is the future earl of Hertford.”

They were both fair staring at me, so I dropped a curtsy and made a face.

De Clare coughed. “Charming,” he said with a bow.

Gisbourne’s lip were curling. “He wished to see me.”

“Yes, well, now he’s decided to keep you waiting,” de Clare said, sitting on a bench and propping one ankle on his knee. His eyes stayed on me overmuch. “So she doesn’t look half as wild as they say. Damn near domesticated, even.” He tapped his eye with a laugh. “I see what inspired the change.”

“You should see what I did to him,” I spat back.

De Clare laughed and I had half a mind to make him think better of it when Gisbourne’s heavy paw slapped across my face.

Pain were hot and blinding and I weren’t quite sure how, but I ended up on the floor. De Clare were laughing still and Gisbourne had turned away from me. A knight stooped and offered me his hand with a clatter of armor. Shamed, I pulled away from him and stood up on my own.

“She’s still learning,” Gisbourne said.

Annulment, I said to myself. I said it so many times the word lost its taste. It made me think of my Rob, and the thought of him and the pain pulsing through my mug suddenly made water push up behind my eyes.

I sucked in a breath and pushed away the tears. I weren’t never going to cry in front of Gisbourne.

Something wet were on my chin and I licked the side of my mouth. It stung and my mouth tasted like copper.