The Archer (The Blood Realm Series Book 3) (3 page)

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 though.” 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.”

Marian halted, body vibrating like a tuning fork. Her shoulders rose and fell a little faster with each labored breath.

That’s right, pretty one, get angry. And a little interest wouldn’t kill you either.
“Yes, well, I’ll be going then.” He set off at a sedate, but steady pace, not bothering to hide his smile anymore. The skin between his shoulders itched with the weight of Marian’s stare.

“Wait.”

He stopped, but didn’t turn to face her, merely tilted his head to the side to show he was listening.

“This Robin Hood your cousin spoke of. Where is he?”

“In the center of the wood, where the ash crosses limbs with the rowan and the willow. It’s not far from here.”

Marian was silent for so long Robin thought she might have left. He was just about to give in to the urge to turn around and see for himself when she spoke again.

“And what price did he ask of your cousin for this loan?”

Hearing that sultry and still semi-angry voice without seeing her face was too much. Robin turned, smoothing his smile to look more casual, not quite so predatory. “Nothing. He gave my cousin the money and told him to pay it back in his own good time—never if that suited him.” He shrugged. “It seems Robin Hood has very little need for gold.”

Marian’s eyes grew distant and she bit her lip. “I wonder.”

“According to my cousin, Robin Hood can be found at those trees when the sun sets. That is all I know.” Robin turned, leaving the huntress to her thoughts.

Until tonight, Lady Marian.

Chapter Three

“Robin Hood can be found at those trees when the sun sets.”

The fur trader’s words echoed in Marian’s head as she prowled through a myriad of twisted tree trunks and high arching roots. Dry twigs and leaves dared her to keep her silence, threatening to give away her position with every step. Every footfall was planned, every shift of her weight slow and calculated to make the least amount of noise so that she could catch her quarry unaware. She moved her gaze back and forth in smooth, steady sweeps, searching the forest for the three trees the trader had spoken of.