“I felt the blast. How much tumbled?”
Much smiled. “Wasn’t even that hard. With everything going on, they never noticed us or the rope fuse. I’ll tell you, the fuse took longer than I thought it would. I thought they must have found it or cut it, but then I felt the blast and saw Robin.”
“What did it do?” Rob asked.
“Toppled most of the middle bailey,” Much told him. “What happened in the hall?”
“John’s still fighting: he told me to go on,” I said. “The sheriff’s dead.”
“Dead?” Much asked, his face forlorn. “Christ. Christ, we’ll just get a new one, won’t we? Worse, probably!”
Robin’s mouth worked before he spoke. “The position can never be vacant, and it’s true, we have no way of knowing who Prince John will next appoint, but it’s still something. We needed time. For the moment, the people—their homes and their children and their very lives—are safe.” He closed his eyes and sagged against me. “For now, it’s more than enough.”
Much stepped forward, his eyes full of worrying. “Let’s get you two back to the cave.”
Rob nodded, and we started to walk, but Godfrey hesitated.
“I don’t . . . I can’t go back to my father. Not after he agreed to this, and let her die.” He closed his eyes, like just saying it hurt him. “I don’t know what I can offer you lot, and I know you won’t trust me after all I’ve done, but—” He stopped short, like someone cut his tongue off.
I slid slow away from Rob, making sure he could stand on his own. I walked to Godfrey, and I touched his hand. “It were your father what killed the sheriff,” I told him. His face twisted up like he were bare keeping something in behind it. “We trust you, Godfrey. You’re one of us now, and you’ll always be.”
“She told me how you tried to get her out,” Godfrey said soft, his voice snapping like a twig. “And she—she wanted to stay.”
I nodded.
“Christ, I’m so sorry I hit you.”
“I know. Come on, you need to rest. We all need a bit of fixing up.” I went back to Rob, slipping under his arm again, and he kissed the bit of my forehead on the side. It made warm heat shoot through my head, run over my body, and slide around my wounded shoulder like it were healing it.
“I’ll patch you up first, Scar,” Much said to me as we got to the cave. “Your shoulder must be awful and your cheek doesn’t look so good either.”
I shied away, hugging tight to Robin. “Not a chance. I ain’t the one been tortured.”
“I’ll fix her, Much,” Rob told him. Close to my ear and quiet he said, “From now on, no one but me sees you with your shirt off, Scar.”
I rolled my eyes, but fair true, I didn’t want no one but him doing the same. “Come on,” I said, leading him into the cave. “Let’s get your shirt nixed for starting.”
He chuckled, but he were leaning heavy on me, and it scared me deep.
“John!” Much yelled.
We turned to see John jogging into the camp, blood and lumps and a big idiot grin on his face. Robin curled forward a little, swaying on his feet.
“What happened?” I asked.
John pushed his thumb over his busted lip. “Gisbourne ran,” he said. “But I either broke his arm or rolled his shoulder. Either way, he won’t be holding a sword for a while. Most of the hall fell after a minute, and we got the people out.” Robin’s face twisted, and John looked to him, losing the grin. “You all right, Rob?”
I hugged him tighter. “He will be.”
John nodded, looking at me, but I pulled away from his eyes and took Rob into the cave, helping him sit. “Don’t move none,” I said. “I’ll get the supplies.”
I went back out and John were standing there, right at the mouth, with his arms crossed. Much and Godfrey were wandering farther, going to get the little food we had stored. John raised his eyebrows.
“What happened with Gisbourne, John?”
“Told you. He ran.”
“Before that.”
John full looked at me, staring at my face. “I got distracted.”
“Don’t look at me for your distractions. I didn’t do nothing for it.”
His face twisted in a funny way, sad and confused. “You did. I went to kill him, and I just thought, if he dies, you’re with Rob. You’re with Rob forever, and I haven’t got a chance. I didn’t mean to think it. It was just there. And it stopped me cold.”
My breath died in my chest and my skin roared with blood. “What?”
John swallowed. “And then the sheriff was there, and the chance was gone.” John’s eyes fixed on the ground. “I’m sorry, Scar.” He lifted off from the mouth of the cave and went over to Much and Godfrey, leaving me staring after him.
It were anger rushing through me more than anything as I thought over his fool words and gathered the supplies. I weren’t even sure what it meant, him not killing Gisbourne, but hearing him say it like that—like he wanted to keep me and Rob from the other? I could have killed him for it.
Least until I went into the cave again and saw Rob there, bent and hurt. Then every other thought vanished from my mind, and my heart set to a strange sort of beating and the anger left me. John’s words didn’t matter none, and the awful band on my finger didn’t neither. Walking into that cave, it crashed over me again: I loved Rob.
I loved Rob, and there were so many things he damn well better explain.
“Come on, Godfrey, let’s show you more of Sherwood,” I heard John say. “Get the lay of the forest. Much, come along with us.”
I blushed a bit, but I were happy for the chance to be alone with Rob after all that had happened.
In the cave were cooler than outside, and it felt like everything had peeled back like the skin of an orange and I were left with this, the heart of it all.
I came quiet behind Rob, touching his side and picking up the edge of the shirt. He nodded and raised his arms, letting me pull his blood-black shirt off him. Hundreds of holes punched his back, bleeding and red and oozing. Some looked sick and poisoned already. “Christ, Rob. I can clean it now, but I’ll have to go to the friars for a poultice.”
He nodded, his body easing out, muscles loosening. I set to work, taking some of our water and the last of our muslin bandages to rinse the blood away and draw out the dirt and grime of the prison. I started a fire and set some water by it to warm, and by the time I rinsed him once, the water were warm and my hands were shaking a touch. I soaked bandages and laid them in strips ’cross the mass of wounds, trying to pull out anything sick and deep in there. I stayed lip shut, letting my heart lay down its drummer’s sticks and feeling doubt slide into my ribs.