No. Cadfen was a traitor, not stupid and before that night’s events, Robin hadn’t ever seen him be cruel. His political mindset and skill on the battlefield were what got him ranked so highly among the foot soldiers, only a class below the knights like Arthur. Uncle Terryn had respected him, trusted him, maybe even confided in him more than he should have.
Where Robin had expected the scent of death and decay, there were the smells of sweet bread, roasted meat, and fire.
Fred came to a halt.
“Be right back,” Clark said. He dismounted slowly, so she would have time to adjust her hold on the horse. He ran into a shop with open shutters. Inside, Robin saw several spinning wheels and lines of fabric. In a matter of minutes, he was back with a small envelope and a wide smile.
“Gotta a few extra coins.” He climbed back onto Fred and they were off again.
Immediately, Robin wrapped her arms around him and pulled forward.
As they reached the next stop and Clark dismounted, Robin noticed a man standing outside a building across from the baker.
He had large eyes, a toothy smile, salt-and-pepper hair, and a beard to match. Most distinctly, there was a golden chain around his neck. A chain that Robin knew came from his wife.
“Mathius,” she meant to say the name to herself but it came out much louder.
He glanced at her, squinted his eyes, and shook his head before walking the opposite direction.
She watched him until he was out of view, hoping he would spin around and race to her side, suddenly realizing who she was. But he didn’t. He disappeared and Robin was left looking like someone had shot an arrow in her chest.
She shook the thought away. In the back was bad enough.
From the same building, several other men stumbled out. None of them wore armor but from the build of their bodies and the way they carried themselves, even with ale in one hand, Robin guessed they had to be knights. In fact, she knew they were because she recognized them. It may have been ten years, yet still she knew their faces. These were four of the first sons from some of the highest respected families in Camelot, groomed since birth to be knights. Gavin, Aaron, Petsin, and Lyle.
They were boys when she had been imprisoned in the tree. Now they stood as grown men.
Robin examined the building. There was no sign or title on it. But considering the state of its inhabitants, it was not completely abandoned. Probably some bootlegger who couldn’t afford the tax and was hiding out until he either saved enough or was caught. Not exactly a respectable place for knights to be, on duty or not.
As the four made their way to the street, they pushed each other up and puffed out their chests. Robin applauded their attempt, still noting they looked like fools trying too hard to not be drunk. Something else tugged at her, as well.
If these boys and Mathius were working under Cadfen, could that mean their families had been involved in the plot to overtake the kingdom?
The light airy feeling returned to her head. She fell forward on Fred and tried to control her breathing. Clark was still speaking with the baker.
“Well, hello, there, miss.”
Robin turned to her right. Gavin stood in the street in all his drunken glory, his fists on his hips and his chest pushed forward like a rooster. He grinned.
Robin raised a brow.
“Are you in need of some assistance? A lady should not be out too long in this sun. Where’s your rider?”
“Uh- ”
“No, no, don’t speak,” he slurred and blundered his way closer to her. “Conserve your energy.”
He held up a hand and placed the other over his chest.
“These are my men.” He gestured to the three behind him. “The strongest men you’ve met, I’m sure. And me?”
He flashed that grin again and leaned elbows first on Fred as he gazed at her.
“Well, I am sure I’m the most handsome man you’ve ever met and I’d love to have a beautiful lady like you by my side.”
Perhaps on another woman it would have worked. Those green eyes, that smooth orange hair that peaked perfectly at his brows and complimented skin that was as pale as if he was from the north… well, they were a dangerous combination.
Maybe someone younger, who hadn’t known Gavin since he was small and hadn’t changed his diapers would have succumbed to his “charms.” Robin did not.
Instead, her cheeks grew hot and with all the ferocious authority of an older sister she said, “Gavin Webb, I do not know what harlots you are accustomed to swooning. But I can assure you I am not one of them. Your mother would have your nose if she saw you now. If I were not in a current dilemma, I’d have the mind to go tell her right away.”
His eyes bulged. “Uh, wait, who-”
She shook a finger at him. “I’m not done. Any woman who falls for the little act you put on is not for you, Gavin. You need a lady who can see through your foolery and flattery in order for her to make you a better man. Whatever female company you are keeping, change it.”
All four men stood rigid. She was certain her speech had sobered them up a bit faster than normal. They shot glances at one another and, then at her.
After a few pregnant moments, Lyle turned to Petsin. “I haven’t received a whacking like that since my sister left for the covenant.”
Robin opened her mouth to ask about Susan, his sister, but she quickly bit her tongue. She had already drawn too much attention to herself, the very opposite of what Clark had advised. If they recognized Robin, they were doing a good job of hiding it.
But if Mathius is alive and the boys have become knights…could Arthur--
Suddenly, there was a chesty laugh. Gavin proudly stood with his head thrown back as deep chortles erupted from him.
Robin sighed. Gavin had always been a bit of a gaudy fool. It was both comforting and disappointing that much hadn’t changed.
Miss,” he said placing his eyes back on Robin. They roamed over her. Her skin crawled.
He crossed back a leg and bowed. As he stood straight again he grabbed her hand and kissed it.
Robin pulled her hand free and glared down at him. He only grinned, the drunken gloss of ale still swirling in his eyes.
“Is everything well here?”
Robin and the men snapped their necks back to see Clark standing outside of the baker’s shop. He crossed his arms. Slowly, he moved his eyes to Robin.
“Robin?”
She looked from him to the four men. A woman and four drunks was not the most respectable scene.
Robin went to answer, yet before she could, Gavin had pushed off from Fred and was raising his hands.
“Apologies. Didn’t know the lady was accounted for. You’re a lucky man, my friend.”
Clark loosened his stance. “No harm done. You all have a good afternoon.”
He calmly mounted Fred, knocked his sides and they were off again.
Robin pulled her hood closer before turning back to Gavin and the others. They were still milling in the street. She turned to Clark and wrapped her arms around him.
“You sure you’re all right? You still look a little sick,” he said.
She nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. Those men…I know them.”
“How?”
“From before.”
“Before what, Robin? From when you lived here? Are they childhood friends?”
She chewed on her response. How much could she really tell him? What if he thought her mad or, worse, what if he turned her in? Arthur had said Cadfen wanted her as a wife. As soon as he discovered she was a live, he’d claim her, Robin had no doubt. He had done worse, hadn’t he?
So who am I to trust?
“Was my question too personal?” he asked.
Robin looked him over.
God be with me.
She cleared her throat. “No, not at all. Clark?”
“Hmm?”
She took a deep breath. “I need to tell you something.”
Chapter Three
&nb
sp; A listair couldn’t believe the day he was having. On one hand, he still managed to make good time on his deliveries, so his job was secure for the winter. Some of the usual clients were even feeling generous and tossed extra coin his way, all of which he planned to put in his savings.
On the other hand, he was nearly scared to death when Robin pulled herself from the tree, an act he was still trying to wrap his mind around.
People don’t just pop out of trees. Well, she didn’t really pop out of it. There was a branch first and, then, her arm like she had been part of the tree. How the hell did that happen?
His gaze found Robin who was eating broth in the corner across from him.
She hadn’t posed any direct danger but in the process of trying to help, he had lied to the Camelot guards twice--they were confused when he departed with her still on his horse and stopped him for questioning--an act that could have gotten him executed if she had stirred up trouble. Not to mention, she had inadvertently become his responsibility after she admitted she had been lying to him and was homeless.
What did I really expect though?
The woman had emerged from a tree, and from the way she reacted when he told her the year, she must have been there for some time. He wondered when she had been trapped. She didn’t look much older than himself. More importantly, how had she been trapped there? Turned into a tree?
He snatched a glance of her again and shook his head. The days of witches were over. Perhaps she had been cursed before the witches disappeared. Any family or friends she may have had were likely either dead or moved on somewhere new.
Alistair didn’t want to admit it. Since their meeting in the woods, he knew she was going to drag him into something. His silver patch hadn’t stopped itching since they met and his aunt had warned him the itching was a sign. He had thought it was only because of the forest, a sort of leftover from before when magic reigned.
Robin was not a witch. He was pretty sure on that. Instead, it seemed like whatever had gotten her into that tree had left a kind of magical residue over her, hence the perpetual itch.
And now, he reminded himself again as she sipped broth from a chipped bowl, she was his to care for. It was the only proper thing a man could do, after all.
He sat across from her and listened to horses snoring below as she finished her meal.
When she was done, she put the bowl to the side, wiped her mouth with the tip of her cuff, and smiled at him.
“Thank you, Clark. It was very good.”
He nodded. “Not exactly filling though.”
“No, no, it was fine,” she assured him. “Actually, it feels wonderful to eat something for myself instead of drawing from that tree.”
“Is that how you survived all this time?” He had wondered exactly how a tree-woman ate.
She nodded. “The first week I was terrified I’d die of starvation. Instead my hunger abated. Soon I was rarely hungry at all. I don’t think my appetite will ever be what it was.”
“I’m still sorry I don’t have more to offer you. When I returned to the middle kingdom most of my money went into my parent’s burial and my new lodgings.” He gestured to the small room they both occupied.
“Is that how you ended up here?” She moved her eyes around the tiny space he called home. He bit back the feeling of shame rising in his chest. Alistair didn’t have many friends in the middle kingdom meaning he didn’t often entertain guests. Living in a questionable room above a horse stable was fine for him. For a young lady? He wasn’t so certain.
“You’re lucky.”
Robin pulled him from his thoughts. She was now sitting cross-legged and leaning out the window. Her hair had been pushed to the side.
In the torch’s glow he could see the light blue lines of her veins run across her neck like glowing webs knitted across northern snow.
Her lips curled up again as she stared out the window. Still, her arms trembled a bit when she leaned forward. The rush of energy she experienced in Camelot had helped her body regain some mobility, but nothing would replace actual practice.
“I suppose it’s time for me to tell you.” Her sight moved to him.
“I don’t want to push you to do anything, Robin. Though knowing exactly what I’ve gotten myself into would be helpful.”
“Of course. I only need you to promise me one thing.”
“I think I can do that,” he said and sat a little taller.
“What I’m about to tell you sounds like a child’s tale but it’s the truth. That being said, you must swear not to have me put away.” She moved forward and extended her hand. Her blue eyes were pushing into him with a deadly seriousness he hadn’t felt since his aunt Una had caught him eating her southern chocolates.
The memory made him shiver and for a moment he hesitated. He glanced from her hand to her eyes, before offering up his hand, as well.
They shook.
“Good.” She straightened and pulled her shoulders back. “My full name is Gwynevere Robin Leingard. I prefer my middle name. King Terryn, the rightful king, the man who should be ruling now is-was my uncle.”
She paused and kept a steady gaze on him. If she was expecting a reaction, he was not going to give her one. His uncle had informed him to never let anyone in the middle kingdom know he had memories from the time before. And considering he really didn’t know Robin well, despite his duty and growing fondness for her, he repeated what any citizen of the middle kingdom would say.
“King Cadfen has always been king.”
The hollowness that appeared in her eyes was disturbing. She swallowed and then ran her hands through her hair, before taking a deep breath.
“Every king has a predecessor. Terryn was Cadfen’s predecessor.”
“I’ve never heard of him,” Alistair lied.
“So, what do you think, then? Cadfen was born king and will rule forever?”
The lie was turning into a tight ball in his throat. “Of course,” he mumbled.
Robin’s eyes widened. She closed them and took in a shuddering inhalation. When her eyes were fixed on Alistair again, he could see the brewing storm behind her icy blue.
She clenched and unclenched her fists. “All men are mortal, Clark.”
He nodded. “Yes, but Cadfen is not a man. He is a king.”
Robin shot up from where she had been sitting. Her fists were balled and her chest was heaving quick, short bursts of air. Her whole body shook, angry tremors running all over her when she finally said, “Cadfen is no king!”
The horses neighed and snorted below them.
“Cadfen,” her voice was reaching a deafening pitch, “is a mur-”
Alistair moved without thinking. He didn’t want to hurt her but the words she had said, as well as the ones she was about to speak, could have them both tortured and boiled alive for treason. He pushed her into the wall and moved his hand over her mouth.
Her eyes had grown round. However, this time, their size was not from a riveting speech.
Robin was scared.
She looked like a rabbit caught by a dagger--absolutely frightened. She began to buck under him and Alistair didn’t have the heart to hold her.
She squirmed away and pushed herself into the corner beside the door.
Alistair showed his palms and took a step towards her.
Robin reached for her cloak. From under one of the folds she pulled out a jeweled dagger and held it out.
She set her jaw. “I may not be a soldier but I’m sure I can slice you up quite well if you ever lay your hands on me again.”
Fight had replaced flight apparently.
Alistair stopped his march. “Robin, I’m sorry.”
“You will be if you move any closer.” She pulled the dagger back and relaxed her stance. A slow exhale eased from her. She moved the dagger in front of her and angled it upwards while her other arm was held out from her side. She flexed her fingers.
She’s not all talk, I see.
“I didn’t mean
to hurt you,” he said. “But what you were about to say, what you said, if anyone heard any of it, the guards will be here shortly and we’ll be killed.”
“I can speak my mind,” she retorted.
“Not in Cadfen’s kingdom.”
A pained look flashed across her face. “That man is a monster.”
Alistair made no movement. “Most just call him king.”
Robin said nothing, only took in a bit of air and kept the dagger at a good distance. Alistair was silent, as well. He remained standing with his hands up, palms ahead, waiting for Robin to make the first move. After all, she was the one with the dagger. He didn’t want to spook her and end up with his throat slashed…or worse.
While they continued to assess one another, Alistair also examined her weapon. No fraud in the world could make something so fine. The dagger was obviously royal-forged with a handle designed to create a good hold for the wielder. He looked between the dagger and Robin.
Of course, Alistair had never met anyone of the royal family. He was a commoner. Not to mention, he was already up north with his uncle when Cadfen took over. But even before then, King Terryn, Princess Morganna, and Lady Robin had seemed like mythical faeries more than real people. He could only remember hearing a bit of news about her, well, more like a rumor. Arthur Pendragon, one of Terryn’s top knights, was courting her.
Could this really be her?
The way she spoke, the dagger, even her dress and cloak, though filthy from years in a tree, alluded to her being high-born, a golden child as some jokingly said about royals.
“Do I have to slice you with it or is the dagger proof enough?”
He sighed and lowered his arms. “You can’t blame me for being skeptical, Robin.”
“But you haven’t called me a liar. And you haven’t run out of here to report me to the guards, so you must believe some of what I’m saying.” She released her stance and hid the dagger under her cloak.
He nodded. “That’s a fair assumption. You also had a dagger pointed at me. There’s that to consider, as well.”
“I’m going to believe the dagger had the least influence,” she said and took a seat in the corner. “Now that you believe me, how do we get others to believe me too?”
The Woman In the Tree Page 4