The Archer (The Blood Realm Series Book 3)

by Jennifer Blackstream

  “I’ve got an arrow for everyone. Whoever would like to receive his first, please step forward.”

  All three men shared a glance, Robin’s eyes shining with an emotion that looked suspiciously like delight. The medved shook its shaggy head, dragging its huge claws over the ground and leaving deep furrows in the dirt. The spriggan picked at its teeth with the tip of one wickedly curved claw then lifted a shoulder in a shrug.

  “Let us not waste time on unnecessary unpleasantries.” He gestured at the cow in Ermentrude’s cloak. “You’ve obviously gone through some effort to be here on your own terms—and I do appreciate a good joke. Why not put the weapon away and tell me what it is that’s brought you here?”

  His amusement grated on Marian’s nerves, already raw from trying to keep her attention split three ways. The spriggan smirked and took a step to the left, while the medved took a large step to the right. Her pulse skipped a beat, adrenaline scalding her like acid. They’re flanking me. It seemed that regardless of Robin’s nonchalance, his two companions were taking the situation quite seriously. Deadly seriously.

  “Stop moving. I will shoot you. Both of you. All of you.”

  “You will shoot no one.” Robin stepped closer, hand out. Some of the amusement had leeched from his face, sharpening the line of his jaw. “Stop this nonsense and just give me the crossbow.”

  The medved took another lumbering step. The spriggan hopped several paces as well. A chuckle trickled from the spriggan’s lips, a higher-pitched sound that she’d expected from its new size. Eyes the color of tarnished brass glittered with anticipation.

  Too many teeth. Too many threats, too much movement. All smiling, mocking.

  “Marian, give me the crossbow.”

  She had a split second to register that he knew her name. Then he stalked toward her like a disapproving parent coming to take a child’s toy. There was no trace of humor on his face, nothing to soften the metallic silver glint in his eyes. And on either side of him, his friends moved to close ranks.

  Marian narrowed her eyes, let out a slow breath…and released an arrow.

  Chapter Four

  Pain ripped through Robin’s leg, the head of the arrow burrowing through flesh and muscle, scraping against bone before exploding out the other side and coming to a stomach-turning halt. Like a dressmaker’s pin thrust through a pinch of fabric, the arrow remained in his calf, filling the air with the coppery scent of blood—and the outraged bellows of a furious medved and a bloodthirsty spriggan.

  Little John reared up onto his powerful hind legs with an organ-vibrating roar. Arms thicker than a man’s thighs extended, brandishing huge claws that could turn a body into so much meat in the blink of an eye. His mouth gaped open, displaying a mouthful of thick yellow teeth. His eyes held no trace of the human he had been moments ago, no hint of the level-headed giant that was so often Robin’s voice of reason.

  A side glance revealed Will had gone feral as well, his eyes glittering like a chest of pirate gold, saliva running freely from his mouth to drip onto the forest floor. He bobbed in place on the balls of his feet, ready to launch his considerable bulk at the huntress who had so unknowingly tapped into a bloodlust too long unsated.

  “No!”

  The word exploded from Robin’s lips, a barked order that held the full weight of his authority, his power. He cast his arms out to the sides, the agony in his leg a mere distraction as he fixed his gaze on the woman who’d shot him. He didn’t look to make sure his companions listened. They would listen.

  The throbbing in his leg grew worse, the skin pinching with every movement. The arrow grew bloodier with every drop flowing from his veins to drip from its head and paint its shaft. His own temper flared to life, heated his words as they formed low in his throat.

  “There are very few souls in this forest who would dare what you have dared this night. Who would offer me the insult that you have.”

  Marian’s face remained as impassive as stone, her jaw tight and her crossbow steady in her grip. “I have two more arrows ready to go, should either of your friends feel left out. Or perhaps you’d like to take another step? You’ve got a second leg after all. We could make them a matching set.”

  Robin reached inside himself, felt for the warm swell of the power that fueled his glamour. His senses expanded, radiating out to soak in the details of the world around him. The scent of his blood, the damp earth, the moss-lined trees. The sight of the darkening sky, the shadows that stretched over the forest floor. The sounds of Will’s steady humming, Little John’s rolling growl, and Marian’s calm, even breathing. Every detail melted into his core, bubbled up into a froth of power. “So brave, for such a delicate being.”

  He released the power, painting a glamour over the clearing. A mirror image of everything, an extra layer of reality that mimicked every detail down to the last hair on his head. As the image snapped into place, Robin darted forward, his movement hidden behind the glamour that showed everything as it had been. The pain in his leg dug deeper, punishing him for the hasty movement, but he ignored it as he snatched the crossbow from Marian’s grip. Her eyes were still narrowed on the false image, and they flew open as he closed his hand around her throat. The look of shock on her face was too precious, the feel of her warm skin too promising. He threw her crossbow into the woods and walked her backward until her back slammed against the tree.

  “You should have run,” he rasped, his voice roughened by the pain eating at his vision.

  She tightened her jaw. “I do not run unless I am chasing something. Or someone.”

  “Your words would hold more weight if you weren’t forcing them past the hand I have wrapped around your windpipe. But the glare in your lovely green eyes helped them along nicely.” He leaned closer, the amusement draining from his face until all she would see was the pain pulling at the skin around his eyes, and the slight glow of his temper that would make his eyes shine. “It’s really too bad you shot me. I think we could have been great…friends.”

  He tightened his grip on her throat with every pulse of pain through his leg, watching her face flush with the need to breathe. Her arms vibrated with tension at her sides as with obvious effort she kept herself from grabbing his hand and trying to tear it from her throat.

  “Did you…a favor.”

  Robin put his ear to her mouth to hear the strangled words, the bone of her jaw pressing into his fingers. “Did you say you did me a favor?”

  She tried to nod, but it was a scant movement, pinned to the tree trunk as she was. Curiosity took the edge off his temper and he loosened his grip, just enough to allow her to speak more easily.

  “What favor?”

  “‘When was the last time any…of us shed more than a…measly ounce of blood.’”

  His eyebrows lifted at hearing his own words repeated back at him. He laughed softly and leaned back, studying the bold redhead with new eyes. Her hair clung to the rough bark of the tree, the wood combing strands of orange crimson from the severe plait. Her eyes sparked cold fire, a vision of his untimely end shining in their depths. Her cheeks were still flushed a dangerously deep shade of red, the strain of restricted breathing all too plain. Despite her obvious pain and the panic that usually came with having one’s airflow threatened, she clenched her teeth as she met his inspection, throat straining as she tried to swallow past his grip.

  “You’re welcome,” she croaked.

  “Ha!” Robin released her abruptly, stepping back as her legs gave out and spilled her to the ground. Her cloak flared up, giving the illusion for a moment that she was melting into a puddle of chocolate.

  Great, now I’m hungry.

  Thoughts of chocolate turned his mind to Sanguennay. Sanguennay made him think of the strange witch and her promise to him that Marian LaFey held some wonderful secret that would cure his boredom—at least for a time. He studied the woman in question as she recovered quickly, hauling herself to her feet and pressing back against the tree for support. Her f
ingers dug into her thighs, like she was resolutely avoiding her abused throat that even now was darkening with impressions of his fingerprints. Several wild curls waved about her head, free of their captivity and flaring about her like radiant sunbeams.

  What would it be like to see that hair completely unbound? Spilling onto the grass, perhaps beneath the moonlight…

  “If you continue to look at me like that, I’ll be needing my crossbow back.”

  Only every other word made it out, the rest lost to the hoarseness that came with near-strangulation, but the thought would have been clear from her expression alone. Eyes narrowed to slits, skin over her jaw leaping about as if the muscle would tear itself from her face to strangle him itself. Robin winked at her, but decided to let his delightfully carnal fantasy go. For the moment.

  He shifted on his feet. Torn flesh screamed at him, hot agony lancing through his leg. He winced and sucked in a sharp breath. Marian smiled, triumph painted in every line of her face, and Robin ground his teeth as he flexed his fingers, ready to snatch her neck again, this time with a far less gentle touch.

  “You have a strange way of behaving before you ask someone for help.” He forced himself to stand straight even as his leg wailed in torment. “Four hundred pounds is not a pittance, you know.”

  Every muscle in Marian’s body stilled. Even her hair seemed to freeze. “How did you know the amount of my eric?”

  Robin smiled. “A little fox told me.”

  Marian’s eyes flashed. Robin called his power again, summoning the same glamour he’d worn to meet her as a trader, painting his face with the same lines, loading his back with the same bundle of pelts. His whimsical green tunic faded to drab grey, the rich color muted to cloth worn ragged by time and hard work. Marian’s emerald eyes grew impossibly wider and her lips parted.

  “You. You’re the one who told me to come here, told me that I could find help…from you.”

  The spriggan, Will, laughed, a semi-hysterical sound that had no business coming from a body that size. Skin the color of aged cheese wrinkled with his glee and his lips spread to flash more sharp teeth. “A fine mess you’ve made for yourself then, lass. You’ll get no help from him now.”

  “Now, now, Will, do not be rude. Of course we are going to help this fair lady.” Robin forced himself to walk on the injured leg, to show no pain, no weakness. He scooped up the fat purse they’d taken from an even fatter tax collector and loosened the silken drawstrings. “Four hundred pounds I think it was?”

  Gold coins glittered in his palm as he held them up between himself and Marian. He waited until her eyes had locked onto the money, then without breaking eye contact, scattered the coins through the clearing with one flick of his hand. Marian jerked forward, realized what she’d done, and threw herself back against the tree with enough force to rattle her teeth. Her eyes burned with hatred as he repeated the process with the rest of the coins, flinging them about until the clearing seemed filled with golden rain. Will lost himself to a fit of giggles, broad shoulders quaking with mirth, but the bear that was Little John just snuffed an ursine sigh and shook his massive head.

  When all the coins were sparkling in the grass like fireflies on a dark night, Robin strode back to Marian. “Gather your four hundred pounds. When you’re finished, we will have dinner and discuss the terms of repayment.”

  No words escaped her lips, but they would have been redundant if they had. Her features were so expressive, they told him more clearly than any speech what was going through her mind. She wanted to tell him exactly what he could do with those coins. She wanted to scream at him—definitively wanted to shoot him again. The conflict played out on her face like a bloody war, the need to make him pay for his insult battling the knowledge that without the four hundred pounds, she would only face a similarly smug male face tomorrow. The kingdom of Meropis had a saying apropos to the situation—“between Scylla and Charybdis.” Robin wasn’t completely clear on who Scylla and Charybdis were, but he imagined they were two equally disagreeable females.

  Finally, Marian’s gaze dropped like a lead fishing weight, her gaze dragging the ground as she took a small, but defiant step toward a particularly thick patch of gold. Robin chuckled as she passed him. Her shoulders sagged like a wet hat—a perfect picture of defeat.

  Which made the vicious kick she landed to the arrow protruding from his leg a complete, and utter shock.

  A howl of agony spilled from Robin’s mouth as he collapsed to the ground, hands fluttering around his leg, wanting to stop the pain, but afraid to make it worse. Marian’s steps grew lighter in the wake of his torment and she flitted about the clearing, plucking gold coins from the grass like a merry child gathering wild flowers.

  Robin frowned. “Are you…humming?”

  Marian ignored him, but she continued to hum. A jaunty little tune completely at odds with the macabre appearance of Robin’s mutilated leg.

  His frown worsened. “I could kill you, you know.”

  The happy tune didn’t stutter, nor did Marian’s movements lose their newfound pep. The world greyed at the edges, eaten by pain and his brain’s desire to part from reality until his body had the sense to heal the gory damage. He blinked at his leg, some corner of his mind holding the awareness that he needed to remove the arrow so he could heal. But that seemed like it would hurt even more. Wouldn’t it? His thoughts grew sluggish and he lolled to the side, barely catching himself on one hand to keep his face from planting in the grass.

  Will ambled across the clearing, giving Marian an exaggerated berth. The spriggan had stopped laughing, but his eyes were still bright, the corners of his mouth twitching up every moment or so—which considering the extra wide character of his mouth meant it nearly touched his ears. Robin couldn’t help but notice the bloated creature didn’t meet his eyes as he knelt to examine the leg.

  “You could,” Marian acknowledged.

  Robin closed his eyes as he lay back on the grass, letting Will do what he would with the wound. “Could what?”

  “Kill me.”

  I should kill you. Why didn’t I kill you?

  “But if you kill me, you’ll be bored again. And isn’t that a fate worse than death?”

  Bloody nosey female. Eavesdropping. Rude, that’s what it is.

  Will snorted, then pressed his lips together. Robin opened his eyes, a hot retort ready on his lips, but before he could comment on his companion’s loyalty, the half-goblin spriggan grasped the arrow and gently broke the tail off. With more care than anticipated, the bestial creature slid the arrow out of his leg.

  Holding his breath, Robin lowered his leg so the grass touched the wound, letting the earth lend its energy to his own recuperative abilities. A pleasant, tingling energy licked at his skin, easing the pain and sending warm pulses of healing through the jagged wound. Will winked at him, then settled back on the grass like a spectator at a public joust. His body shuddered, then shrank, muscles tightening and growing more compact, the majority of his bulk melting away. His smile melted to a more normal width, though it was still wider than any human’s. A moment later he was once again a scrawny young man wearing clothes far too loose for him, beady black eyes greedily watching the events unfolding before him.

  Little John’s black nose twitched as he snuffled again, a dismissive huff that seemed to encompass everyone in the clearing. He rolled his girth to the side, lumbering off into the woods, probably to hunt for dinner. It didn’t take long for the shadows of the trees to close around him, blending his dark brown fur to black before swallowing him completely.

  I hope he catches something besides fish. I’m tired of fish.

  Robin sat up to better see his attacker gathering her ill gotten coins. “You think you know me so well after your little bout of eavesdropping. But I would caution you against growing too comfortable. Killing you would bring me just as much excitement as sitting down to dinner with you.” He leaned forward, careful not to break his leg’s healing contact with the
ground. “And I could make it last much longer.”

  Marian didn’t take her attention from the gold filling the folds of her skirt she was using as a makeshift bowl. The teal material bulged in an uneven pattern as the weight strained the cloth, but it held. “You do not strike me as being overly complicated. You are a child in a man’s body, whining about boredom as you play about in the forest. I heard Little John’s lament about your attention span. Even your companions have no faith in your staying power.”

  Now that the pain from his leg was fading into the background, Robin couldn’t help but notice Marian’s voice held a sexy rasp—an intriguing side effect from his impromptu strangulation. His earlier thoughts of seeing her laid out beneath him in the grass flitted through his mind. “If it’s my staying power that interests you—”

  “It doesn’t.”

  Another bout of snickering poured from Will. Robin glared at him, but the spriggan remained largely recalcitrant, mouth curved into a sickle-shaped smile. Robin drummed his fingers against his knee and studied the mouthy female. Not overly complicated. A child in a man’s body. Her incessant insults were growing tiresome.

  Dropping his hand from his knee to the ground, Robin waved his fingers over the grass. Power rolled over him like a wave, energy crystallizing like frost and spilling out to coat the clearing with another glamour. A circle of fluffy white snow bloomed up around Marian in a three foot circle, startling her into withdrawing her hand, fingers brushing her chest as she stared at the now frozen ground with its buried coins. A muscle tightened in her jaw and she stomped through the circle aiming for a patch of still green grass with unburied gold. The snow moved with her like a wintry skirt, covering her boots and hiding the ground beneath an icy blanket. Robin propped his elbow on his knee as Marian blinked and then scooped up a handful of snow.

  “It’s cold.”