Seducing the Sheriff of Nottingham, page 26
part #5 of A Kinda Fairytale Series
Marion was right. Hood would want to win it, just to prove he could. Nicholas was suddenly sure of that. …And he was sure he’d been an idiot.
“This is a good plan.” He muttered grudgingly.
Marion looked his way.
Nicholas cleared his throat and tried to fix what he broke. “I’m sorry.”
“For?”
“Everything.”
“Well, that’s a start.”
Her tone still wasn’t happy. She was listening, though, and she was drinking the soda he’d bought for her. So, Nicholas kept going.
“I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did.”
“Nope.”
“When I heard you got the note from Hood and went to see him, I was….” he struggled to describe the rage and fear and loneliness and desperation and possession that had washed over him, “troubled.”
“Troubled?”
“Yes. But, I was wrong. If you wanted Hood to save you, you wouldn’t be trying to catch him with this contest.”
“No shit.”
His tension eased a bit, because now she sounded like Marion, again. “If you planned to secretly run off with him today, your plan would’ve worked. You’re good at creatively villainous plans.”
Her mouth tipped up at one corner, liking that compliment. She made a “gimme more” grabby gesture by quickly folding her fingers against her raised palm. “Keep going, big guy.”
“If you were pining to see Hood at this festival, you’d never sit on my lap and let me touch you this morning. I know that, because I know you.”
“Doing better.”
“But, I just can’t… I don’t…”
“Yes?” She prompted, when he stopped.
He tried to articulate his feelings, but, as always, the right words eluded him. “You have always been his girl. Changing that perception in my head is hard. I keep going back to it, because… it just doesn’t make sense.”
Marion’s brows furrowed. “What doesn’t make sense?”
“All of it.” Nicholas wished he’d never started this part. It was all coming out garbled. “And picturing Hood’s hands on your body makes me… irrational. Picturing anyone but me having your attention or affection… I don’t want to go back to that. I can’t. Not when I know what it feels like to really have you with me.”
Now, he had her total focus.
“You’re… And I’m not… Fuck.” He ground his teeth in self-disgust, trying to find words that weren’t ridiculous.
Marion waited.
Nicholas gave up trying to be even halfway eloquent and just went with bald facts. “I want you for myself, Marion.”
Her lips parted.
“That’s the truth.” He admitted helplessly. “It just is. I am obsessed with you. It’s wrong and I don’t care. You are all I think about. All I see.”
Her head tilted, considering that crazy declaration. Probably wondering if he’d lost his damn mind. Maybe he had. No sane gargoyle would ask a Maid to choose him over the most heroic bastard in Nottingham. It was the very definition of insanity.
Nicholas turned back towards the tournament field and wished someone would just shoot an arrow through his brain to put him out of his misery.
“Okay.”
He frowned at her casual response to his awkward confession. “Okay?”
“Okay. You can have me for yourself.” She shrugged, like it was obvious. “It’s what I want, too.”
That’s impossible and you know it, Greystone. She’s kidding herself.
Nicholas shook his head, listening to his own dark thoughts, because what else made sense? “You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do. There are no issues keeping us apart, Nick. Not anymore. You just have to stop inventing problems and communicate with me.”
It wasn’t as simple as Marion made it seem. It couldn’t be. Why would she just give up on Robin Hood forever? Marion said she wanted the kind of marriage her parents had. That meant True Love. That meant Hood. She might believe what she was saying right now, but she’d change her mind eventually. It was inevitable.
Marion sighed, seeing his doubt. “Sometimes, I feel unsure of you, too, you know. About why you want me, in the first place.”
Nicholas scoffed at that nonsense. Anyone with eyes knew how he felt about Marion. She couldn’t possibly doubt it. He’d been staring at her nonstop for almost fifteen years.
“We both need to be better at trusting.” She decided, relenting in the face of his misery. “We’ll get there. We’re already almost there. Just give me until the wedding and it’ll all come together. I know it.”
“By Wednesday you’ll know if you trust me?”
“Yes. And you’ll know if you can trust me. If I don’t show up in my perfect dress, you’ll know I’m lying about everything and can feel very vindicated. If I do show up, you just smile pretty and say ‘I do.’ …And I never have to hear you say Robin’s name, again. Deal?”
He nodded, pathetically hopeful and deeply skeptical at the same time. “Deal.”
No matter what happens on Wednesday, don’t let her go.
On the field, the contestants were lining up to vie for the prize. There were six of them, all dressed in Nottingham’s traditional archery garb of elaborate capes. None of them looked like Robin Hood. Good. Nicholas hoped the other man stayed far away. He no longer cared if the outlaw was caught, just so Hood was nowhere near Marion.
“Someone in the puppet tent sounded like Robin.” Marion told him abruptly.
Nicholas frowned, his gaze snapping back to her face. “You said Hood wasn’t there.”
“He wasn’t. I heard what I thought was his voice, but it wasn’t… right. It wasn’t him. It was just someone who sounded like him.” She met his eyes. “Something that sounded like him. I think it was the same something I saw outside the brothel.”
Nicholas understood where this was headed. “The woman on the midway looked exactly like you, Marion. At least, from ten feet or so. If she wasn’t you, she was an incredible imitation.”
Marion stared at him, saying nothing.
“Shit.” Nicholas muttered, searching the depths of her incredible eyes. “It wasn’t you.”
Her mouth curved at his capitulation. “It wasn’t me. I’ve never been able to ignore you, Nick. Even when I hate you.”
His mind raced. “It lured me away from the medical tent, so it could target you.”
“I have no idea why it would do that, though. It doesn’t make sense.” Despite the circumstances, he was grateful to have Marion sharing ideas with him again. “You were the victim, last time. Not me. You’re the one who ended up dead.”
Nicholas shook his head, unable to accept that was even a possibility.
“I think the enchantress was tricking both of us today.” Marion continued. “Or some being pretending to be an enchantress, anyway. Some kind of… thing that can make people think it’s something else. It’s tied to King Richard and Robin and whatever the hell they’re up to.”
Nicholas’ jaw clenched. “A Wraith.” That was the only explanation. “It’s a Wraith.”
Chapter Nineteen
Countdown of the biggest scandals I’ve ever covered, as a seasoned and impartial reporter of truth:
Number 4: Magical shapeshifting deer are illegally hunting the Merry Men!
Alan A. Dale- “Nottingham’s Naughtiest News”
Marion had done time with just about every type of creature under the sun, but she’d never heard of a Wraith. “What’s that?”
“A monster.”
“Like an actual monster or a regular-criminal-scumbag kind of monster?”
“The first one.” He sounded grim. “I don’t know what they are, really. What they’re born looking like or where they come from. Wraiths can change their appearance, so they can be… anything.”
“Like a glamour?” Witches used those to transform their looks, all the time.
“No. Wraiths are…” He frowned, trying to explain it. “They can mimic other beings voices and forms. Like a glamour, yes. But they can do more than that. They’re powerful, because they get in your mind.”
“Have you ever seen one?”
“During the war, we fought in some desolate places. Near the Pellinore Mountains, deep in the Wilds, there was… something.” He gave his head a shake. “Monsters live in those mountains. Old creatures, rare, better off isolated. But the war riled them up. Disrupted their homes and feeding grounds. Drove them down, towards the fighting.”
Marion didn’t like to picture Nicholas in the war. She didn’t like to picture him anyplace dangerous, where she wasn’t there to keep an eye on him. It was why she needed to stalk him forever.
“We’d set up camp, one night, and I was keeping watch.” He stared at something only he could see. “It was miserable. Cold. But the stars out there are… endless. So bright you could read by them. They reminded me of my mother.”
“Were you wishing on them?”
Nicholas glanced at her. “Yes.” He said quietly. “I was wishing on the stars that night, like I always did when I was reading one of the letters…” He stopped, his jaw tightening.
“You were reading a letter?” Marion prompted, when he suddenly broke off.
She didn’t need to ask who it was from. It warmed her to know he’d been carrying her letters around with him, reading them for solace on cold and miserable nights. That’s why she’d written them, in the first place. So her future husband would feel less alone, even when they were so far apart. She hadn’t set out to write Nicholas, but, in every way that mattered, the letters were always his.
Nicholas cleared his throat, not meeting her eyes. “A letter. Yes. And as I sat there, alone and missing my home… Reynold Greenleaf walks by.”
“That was unusual?”
“Somewhat. He’d been dead for six days.”
Marion winced. “The Wraith was impersonating soldiers?”
“Yes. It was sneaking into camp. I don’t know why or how long it had been doing it. But I know that the resulting fight to kill it nearly destroyed the camp and cost dozens of men.” He shook his head. “Not even Nessus Theomaddox did more damage to us, that day. And every day with him around was a barbarous slaughter.”
“Do Wraiths have claws or something?”
“No, the soldiers were the ones killing each other, because of what it made us see. I didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. No one did. We were fighting amongst ourselves, panicked and confused, while it sat back and watched.”
Marion swallowed.
“Wraiths can get inside your head and they know things about the people their pretending to be.” Nicholas continued. “The one pretending to be Reynold knew my name. Knew Reynold had sons. How did it know that?”
“Can they predict the future?”
“I don’t know. They can create these…” he made a vague gesture, “illusions, though. Images of people and creatures and things. Multiple images. All at once. All moving in different directions. But they’re just… projections, I guess? They move, but you can’t interact with them. A bear came at me, during the fight. Raced at me and it was as real as anything I’ve ever seen. I rolled out of the way, but it vanished just as quick as it came.” He met her eyes. “That’s what I saw on the midway. A projection of you.”
Marion didn’t like the idea of a monster copying her face. At all.
“I’m sorry.” Nicholas said simply. “I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
“I heard Robin’s voice. I didn’t doubt it was him, until the very end.” Marion reached over to touch Nicholas’ arm. “Do you think the puppets were an illusion, then? That’s why my hat wasn’t really shredded.”
“And that’s why Boulder and the others couldn’t find any trace of them.”
“They were so real, Nick.”
“I know.”
Marion frowned considering everything he’d said. “You’re sure the soldiers stopped the Wraith, during the war? You’re sure it’s not the same one? Maybe it could’ve followed you guys home to Nottingham.”
“Whatever was disguised as Reynold Greenleaf died in a hale of fiery arrows. I saw the crispy remains myself. I don’t know what the Wraith looked like when it was alive, but I know that pile of blackened ash sure as shit wasn’t breathing.”
“How many of these damn monsters are there?”
“According to Richard, none. He called in wizards and rare-species experts, who gave us a slideshow presentation after the encounter to help calm nerves. They said Wraiths always traveled alone, and were exceptionally rare, and there weren’t any more of them to worry about.” He lifted a shoulder. “The Battle of Kirklees happened not long after that, so no one ever talked about the Wraith again. There’s only so much you can hold onto in war. If you try to deal with everything, you’d go crazy.”
“Richard’s a politician.” Marion said flatly. “He’d tell the men anything, if it meant getting on with his beloved crusade. There could’ve been fifty Wraiths and he wouldn’t have warned you.”
“Yes.” Nicholas agreed and then he was silent for a long moment. “It wasn’t just that Reynold Greenleaf was dead, and now he was suddenly walking around, that had the hair on my arms standing up. I knew it wasn’t him, because of the eyes.”
“The eyes?”
“They weren’t… right. I think the Wraith can impersonate people, but it can’t make them perfect. If you really know the original, you can spot the fake. I wasn’t close with Reynold Greenleaf, but I realized it couldn’t truly be him, because the man was dead. So, I looked closer and deeper. And when I did, I could see the eyes were wrong.”
“I never saw Robin in the tent. I just heard him calling me and telling me he was there to save me.”
Nicholas nodded. “The Wraith knew you’d be able to spot the ruse. When you love someone, it’s impossible to mistake them for long, I imagine.”
“I don’t love Robin.”
He ignored that. “It was trying to trick you closer and then grab you before…” He hesitated, catching up with what she’d said. “Hood was calling to you?”
“No, the Wraith was calling to me.”
“But, you thought it was Hood. Right up until the end, you said.”
“Yes. The voice was wrong, during the puppet attack. Maybe it was running out of power. Or maybe it just didn’t care.” She chewed on her thumbnail and wished it was a cigarette. “I think you’re right. It can’t make a perfect copy. It can just get really frigging close.”
Silence.
Marion glanced his way and saw that Nicholas was staring at her. “What?”
He had a strange expression on his face. “You didn’t go to him. You thought it was Hood calling your name and promising to protect you. …But you stayed.”
She met his eyes. “I stayed.”
His mouth curved.
Marion found herself smiling back.
Nicholas eventually glanced away, like he was worried she’d see too much. “So… yes. There must be a Wraith in Nottingham.” He decided, as if that random summation was just the first thing he could think to say. His conversational skills were truly awful. But in a cute way.
Marion went along with his awkward topic shift. “And of course Robin’s now made friends with the damn thing.” She hesitated. “He might not know it’s a Wraith, I guess. He might think it’s someone helpful or Good. For all we know, it appears to him like a baby forest elf, with big eyes and braids in its hair.”
“Don’t defend that idiot!”
“I’m not defending him. You’re the one always saying we have to be sure, during an investigation, though. I’m just…”
“Hood almost got you killed by a monster. Fuck investigating. I’m just going to hang him without a trial.”
That made her blink. “You were going to give him an actual trial?”
“Of course. Everyone gets a fair trial in Nottingham. Just like that man who broke into the castle got one this morning. Quarry considered the evidence and impartially rendered a verdict.” Nicholas nodded righteously. “It was very fair.”
“Yeah, the ‘very fairness’ of it reminded me a lot of my trial.” Marion deadpanned and then waved it aside. “Whatever. Robin can blow himself. We need to focus on finding this Wraith thing, before it…” She trailed off, her eyes on the tournament field, where the first contestant was approaching the firing line. “Hold on. I need to watch this.”
The announcer gave a vivid play-by-play as the archer notched his arrow. Marion tuned out the noise and focused on the guy’s body. He was built like Robin, right? But maybe too short? It was hard to be sure. Dammit, this was harder than she’d thought it would be.
Nicholas switched his attention to the field. “Do you see Hood?”
“I haven’t laid eyes on him in ten years. Give me a second.” Marion squinted down the row of men waiting their turn to shoot, trying to look through the over-the-top, caped getups that all archers wore in Nottingham. The whole kingdom was seriously a fashion desert.
Was one of these guys Robin in disguise? Shit. Why was it so hard to recall the exact shape of his body or how tall he was? Oh. Right. Because her mind had been filled with a big, grouchy gargoyle for the past decade.
She sent Nicholas a sideways look, blaming him for her memory issues.
“I can just arrest everyone who entered this contest.” Nicholas offered, missing her accusatory glare. “That would be simpler.”
Huh. That would be simpler. Marion hesitated. “Would you hang them all?”
“Yes. But, only after their trials.”
She rolled her eyes. “Let’s just do this my way, for now.”
The first contestant shot his arrow. It hit one of the outer rings of the target. Disappointed, the crowd half-heartedly clapped and the man stepped back from the firing line, cursing in frustration.
“Nope.” Marion shook her head. “If it’s not a bullseye, it’s not Robin.”
“Hood might suspect this is a trap. He could have deliberately aimed wide to allay our suspicion.”
She snorted. “No. He only wants to win. If he can’t win, he won’t play. It’s why he didn’t come to the church to rescue me, that day. You’d outmaneuvered him in front of the whole kingdom. He knew it. So, he refused to show up, at all.”
