The Archer (The Blood Realm Series Book 3)

by Jennifer Blackstream

  He wrinkled his nose as if he’d tasted something sour. “Your family has always been so difficult. Never agreeing to sell, never agreeing to any sort of arrangement.” A gleam slid over his eyes. “But now, it will finally happen. This is the fifth time I’ve caught you hunting on my lands. I’m sure I’ll have no trouble convincing the judge your penalty should be…appropriately severe.”

  “It’s only been three times.”

  She sucked in a breath, wishing she could recapture the admission. Guy squared his shoulders, trying to look down his nose at her even though she was taller than his five-foot-four by at least eight inches.

  “So you admit to hunting on my land on more than one occasion.”

  He’d raised his voice, calling out as if performing for an audience. Marian frowned. “Why are you shouting? I’ve not gone deaf.” She cast a glance around the forest, studying her surroundings for some sign that they were not alone. “Have you brought someone with you?”

  “I’ve spoken to the king.”

  Marian snapped her attention back to Guy. “The king?” She searched his face for some hint that he was bluffing, joking, anything but serious. The trees overhead doused his face in ghoulish shadows and chills raced down her spine as his thin lips curved.

  “Yes, Marian. The king. I was able to get an audience with him with the help of a family member, and when I told His Majesty about my poor female neighbor who doesn’t know a thing about working the land, and who can’t even manage to stay on her own property… Well, the king was only too pleased with my idea to offer you help and stability by agreeing to marry you.”

  This is a nightmare. Marian’s arms nearly went limp as she shook her head. “This can’t be.”

  “Indeed, it can. His Majesty confided in me that he wishes more women would admit to the need for a man’s touch around the estate. After all, a woman rules home and hearth, one cannot realistically expect her to manage the lands and hunting grounds as well.”

  “You’re mad. I will never marry you, not even if the king himself thinks it’s a splendid idea. You are a weak, repulsive little man, and I wouldn’t sully my boot stepping on you let alone…” She trailed off, too disgusted to finish the thought.

  Guy stepped closer, brazenly ignoring the arrow pressed against his belly. Marian only barely registered the warmth as he closed his grubby hands around her hips, tried to haul her against him. “Oh, my sweet Marian.” His voice was too high, thin as if he were almost too excited too breathe. “You will come to my bed, Marian. And you will be grateful for it.”

  The world blurred behind a red curtain of fury, instinct claiming her body, moving it as it willed. Her foot made contact with his chest, muscles flexing as she kicked out, sending his body hurtling back. She took one, two, three steps back, breathing evenly with each one, her breath roaring in her ears. The arrow trembled in her grip, stilled, and then…

  Chapter Two

  She killed him.

  Robin rose from his position on his hands and knees, unbending his six foot five frame from where he’d hung himself over the arrow lodged in the tree. His fox glamour held steady, painting the picture of a lazy red fox crunching underbrush beneath its stockinged paws as it scampered off into the bushes.

  Not that anyone was watching to appreciate his attention to detail. The man was dead, the black-striped grey feathers of the arrow protruding from his chest pointing at the beautiful redhead like an accusation. Marian, for her part, stood there as if frozen, vibrant green eyes locked on the corpse. Brushing the dirt from his palms, Robin leaned against the lime green moss-covered trunk of a convenient birch and waited to see what the lovely huntress would do next.

  This is so much more interesting than a chase. And just when I was starting to think that witch lied to me. He paused for a moment, trying to remember the witch’s exact words.

  “Seek out the one called Marian LaFey in County Brasil… She has a secret… I will tell you no more. If you want to solve the mystery that is Marian LaFey, then you must go home and find her yourself.”

  With specifics like that, the woman should have been a seer. Robin tapped a finger against his thigh. He had yet to discover the nature of this secret Marian supposedly had. But perhaps he was about to get a hint…

  True to her Amazonian attitude, Marian didn’t lower the bow. Her breasts rose and fell in a calm rhythm, smooth swells all but hidden beneath her cloak unless one was really looking. The hand holding her bow remained steady, none of the shaking that usually accompanied a crime of passion. The only sign that she found the situation at all unpleasant was the grinding motion of her jaw.

  “Insufferable man.”

  Careful not to make a sound that might contradict his glamour, he angled his body forward, straining to hear her better. She lowered her bow and stepped toward her victim, putting herself directly in the path of a beam of sunlight that had managed to pierce the thick forest canopy. Red hair spilled down her back in a thick braid that glittered in the sunlight like the ribbon of a Winter Solstice present. The skin of her pale face shone, framing eyes that would shame even the emeralds set in the Seelie Queen’s best crown.

  Heat warmed Robin’s blood. Many was the time he’d led this huntress on a chase, glamoured himself to look like some pesky beast so he could lure her farther and farther into the woods. It had been a pleasant hope of his that he might get her alone and in a less bloodthirsty mood, perhaps a mood that leant itself to other carnal delights. But alas, the wench had an eye like a hawk and an arm that could hold a bow steady for hours on end. She was not one to be distracted from her prey.

  But neither am I.

  “Marriage.”

  Marian spat the word like a curse and closed her hand around the center of her spent arrow. Robin arched an eyebrow as she jerked it free, tearing the projectile from the fallen man’s chest with all the sympathy of a butcher hacking up a piece of meat. She eyed the tip of the arrow as if debating whether it could be saved, reused.

  Oh, I like this one. Perhaps it’s time—

  Something caught Robin’s peripheral vision. Movement, a figure dressed in black stepping from behind a tree. Dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard adorned a face that might have been handsome if not for the too square jaw, the cold and calculating look in eyes like twin tar pits. The only thing about him that offered relief from all the darkness was the glint of a metal pendant that hung from a raw leather strand around his neck. Polished iron.

  Bit risky wearing iron like that, oh mighty sheriff. The ringing in your ears must be maddening.

  Cursing the sheriff’s timing, Robin slid back behind the tree. The iron wouldn’t break his glamour per se—he was too powerful for that, his glamour too strong. As long as he didn’t attempt to lay a glamour directly over the lawman, he could keep himself hidden. However, the damned metal was already weakening the effects of the glamour he was projecting, and Sheriff Mac Tyre was just observant enough, just stubborn enough, that a little crack in the magic’s integrity might prove disastrous. He crouched behind the tree, balancing on the balls of his feet as he peeked around the trunk, watching as the Sheriff’s shadow stretched high to cloud the ground with darkness.

  “No sympathy for your victim then, Lady Marian?”

  She whirled around, nocking the bloody arrow in her bow in the same smooth motion. Something about her bearing, the total absence of surprise on her features, told Robin she’d heard the man’s approach, or had sensed it in some other manner.

  A clue perhaps?

  “Sympathy for a man who would have violated me? Who all but threatened to have me thrown in irons if I didn’t come to his bed?” Marian’s jaw tightened. “I think not.”

  The sheriff stopped several yards away, his severe gaze sliding from Marian to the body on the ground like a dragon sizing up a cave, judging whether there was room for his treasure. After a moment of silent contemplation, he approached Marian. His footsteps as he came closer were near silent, every step deliberate, careful
. A predator’s gait.

  “And my cousin was so fond of you too.” He halted again less than ten feet from Marian. “Do lower the weapon, Lady Marian. You’ve already killed one man today, surely that’s enough?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  Robin grinned. Marian’s voice was strong, no fear, no guilt. Nothing to suggest she was about to be arrested for murder—possibly hanged. Either she was planning another murder, she intended to bluff her way out, or her secret included being some manner of creature that did not fear whatever means of death the human—or mostly human—sheriff might bring to her. Whatever the reason, things were about to get interesting.

  Exactly what this boring day needed.

  “I was visiting with my cousin when he happened to notice you scampering about on his property. Apparently, this isn’t the first time you’ve trespassed, and Guy asked if I would mind remaining close while he confronted you, ostensibly with the desire that I should arrest you if you became obstinate.” He nudged the body with the toe of his boot. “Which it would seem you were.”

  Marian’s green eyes widened and the bow sagged in her grip. “You watched the whole thing. You watched him try to put his hands on me, watched me—”

  “Murder him in cold blood? Indeed, I am sorry to say I did bear witness to your rather deplorable lack of character.” He tilted his head as if in consideration. After a moment, he nodded, once. “Four hundred pounds.”

  “What?”

  Robin leaned closer, his pulse quickening. Marian’s voice had risen, and her bow hung all but forgotten in her grasp. Don’t lower your weapon, Marian, not when you stand so close to him.

  Mac Tyre’s gaze abandoned the dead, and narrowed on the lady. He took one more step in her direction, placing his foot in the center of a particularly large stick littering the ground. Peering at her with deadened, vacant eyes, he snapped the twig with a gruesome crack.

  “Yes, four hundred pounds. A fair eric for my cousin, I think. After all, the poor man was without wife or child. I will have to take on the responsibility of his lands, and it will take a great deal of time, and effort, and gold to hire the help that will be needed. Four hundred pounds is appropriate.”

  “I…”

  Marian pressed her lips together, nostrils flaring. Her fingers flexed around her bow, giving Robin hope that she’d raise the weapon and put the same arrow in the sheriff that had killed his cousin. What a story that would make. Cousins slain by the same arrow, barely a breath apart. Felled by my mystery woman.

  She huffed out a breath, her shoulders falling as if some great stone had been laid on them. “I will have the money for you in a year’s time.”

  Robin deflated against the trunk of the tree. Not much fun in that. Disappointed, he turned with every intention of waltzing right out of the picture. There was little point in sticking around if she was going to give up so easily. If she had an otherworldly nature, she obviously had no intention of showing it now. And his interest was fading…fast.

  “No. You will have the money for me tomorrow. Or I will lay claim to your land as compensation.”

  “Tomorrow! You know blasted well I can’t have that kind of money by tomorrow.”

  That’s more like it.

  Robin resumed his previous stance behind the trunk just in time to watch the sheriff snatch the arrow from Marian’s hand, the movement so quick even Robin nearly missed it. She hissed and scuttled back a few steps, glaring at the sheriff as he held the arrow up between them, its bloody tip gleaming in the light.

  “You have murdered my cousin. Pay the eric or have your lands seized when you are thrown in prison. I do not care which path you choose, for in the end, they both lead to my ownership of these lands—his and yours. Throw your life away in the process if you wish, but do make your decision quickly so we can both be on about our day.”

  Marian curled her nails into her palms as if fighting the desire to scratch out the sheriff’s eyes. Robin held his breath, anticipation leaking adrenaline into his blood stream as he stared at her fingertips for some sign of claws, or perhaps the faint glow of a spell.

  Come on, then. Show us what you’ve got.

  When she spoke again, her tone was steadier than her hands, but hot with restrained fury. “I will see you tomorrow then.”

  Robin sank down onto his haunches, his chin falling into his hand with his elbow haphazardly propped up on one knee. Another surrender. Very disappointing, Marian.

  “Tomorrow.” The sheriff pointed at her with the arrow. “If you would be so good as to leave now, I must attend to my cousin’s proper burial.”

  Without another word, she spun on her heel, her back as taut as her bowstring as she marched off through the woods. As her retreating form grew smaller, Robin debated his next course of action. Thus far, Marian was disappointing him. Yes, murdering Guy had been a bold move, and very exciting. But her subsequent capitulation to the sheriff’s outrageous eric dulled her allure. She was probably heading home to begin the tedious process of obtaining a loan from some other noble, perhaps begging or even offering her own hand in marriage to save her land. The land she hardly seemed to want, from what Robin had seen on the days he spied on her under a variety of glamours.

  And I have still seen no hint of this precious secret the witch promised me.

  Perhaps she just needs a little push. A slow smile spread over his face, a plan hatching in his mind. Cheered at the promise of excitement to come, Robin crept away from the scene of the crime, careful not to do anything that might draw the iron-bearing sheriff’s attention.

  It wasn’t hard to outdistance Marian. Unlike her trek here, she wasn’t running, wasn’t lost in pursuit. Rather, she seemed to be deliberately stomping with every step, as if punishing the earth for her troubles. Her bow groaned in her white-knuckled grip, the quiver of arrows at her hip jostling with every vicious slam of her boot against the ground. More wild red curls had escaped their bondage, and waved frantically about her face as if warning all who stood in her path to get out of the way.

  Patience, my dear. Robin will make it all better.

  When he’d managed to put a good fifty yards between them, Robin tucked himself behind a tree that Marian would have to pass by. The yew could have hidden a small army behind its girth of pine-scented stems and bright red berries, so it was nothing for Robin to keep out of sight while he spun a new glamour.

  Fox fur melted away, shrinking until it was one of many pelts fixed to a leather strap slung over a stooped shoulder. Lines flowed over his face, aging his smooth sidhe countenance to appear as a human in his later years. A slate grey tunic that matched the new hair and beard hung over worn brown leather hunting breeches. The tunic was belted at the waist by a strap laden with a small sheath holding a hunting knife. Black boots completed the outfit, and he now stood there looking for all the world like a humble fur trader. Wiping the anticipatory smile from his face, he plunged out from behind the tree just in time to collide with the stormy redhead.

  “Oi!”

  Robin stumbled, pretending to stagger under the weight of the thick pelts he carried in layers on his back. The coarse hair he’d spun to cover his silken white-yellow locks fell to block one eye, and he threw his head to the side to clear his vision.

  “Oh, please forgive me, lass. I didn’t see your lovely self until it was too late for these old bones to call a halt.”

  Marian inspected her bow for damage, fingers dancing with surprising care over the handle she’d been near-throttling moments ago. “It’s all right. I—” Her green eyes hardened and narrowed at the pelts on his back, her spine going taut. “Where have you come from?”

  “Oh, here and there. Hard to keep track of one’s bearings when it’s an animal doing the leading. I just go where they take me—nature of the work you know.”

  A tic pulled at the skin of her temple and Robin smothered a smile.

  “Indeed. Well—”

  “Oh, I wasn’t hunting on your land thoug
h.” He widened his eyes and fluttered his hand about in supplication. “I would never hunt on land I didn’t have permission to be on. Not after what nearly happened to my cousin.”

  Marian’s face flushed, her skin threatening to blend with her hair. “Be on your way, then.”

  She resumed her furious procession. Robin fell into step with her, careful to hunch over as if the pelts were a true burden on his spine. Leaning down as he was, he couldn’t help but appreciate the way Marian’s gown clung to her curves, the brief flashes he got as her cloak shifted with her steps merely whetting his appetite.

  Perhaps I should have appeared as my true self. Seems an awful waste to be speaking with her in this grubby guise. Ah well, nothing for it now. Plenty of time for that tonight.

  “You wouldn’t believe the fine levied at him—my cousin, I mean. The amount they asked—just for a bit of hunting that crossed a wee way over the property line. Why, if it weren’t for Robin Hood, he would have lost his land to be sure.”

  “Robin Hood?”

  The sound of his name on her lips sent a shiver down Robin’s back. Oh, he hoped to hear her say his name again, perhaps under the moonlight, when she looked into his eyes and saw him as he was.

  “Yes, Robin Hood.” Robin made a show of looking over his shoulder before leaning close. “You didn’t hear this from me, but there’s a man in these woods who follows his own code. Robs from the rich and gives to the poor, so they say.”

  “You cannot be serious.” Marian’s voice was flat, completely absent of any lilt of awe or even interest.

  Robin frowned. “I am very serious.”

  “You’re telling me there’s a grown man who runs about the forest stealing and redistributing wealth on a whim? All out of the kindness of his heart, I suppose?”

  “Such judgment in your tone.” Robin stopped walking and crossed his arms, forgotten pelts sliding off his back to the ground. “Perhaps I was wrong to share such knowledge with you.” He shrugged and forced himself to bend down and gather the pelts without waiting to see if she stopped walking. “After all, I’m sure you’re much smarter than my cousin. What sort of person is foolish enough to be caught hunting on another man’s lands? And my cousin was caught twice, the dunce.”