Supper weren’t the torture it had been the night before. Men were tired and quiet. Isabel led much of the talk and didn’t steer none of it toward me. For once I didn’t raise my husband’s ire, and when the meal ended, he offered his arm and led me out of the hall civil-like.
When we changed for bed and his shirt came off, I saw his body had taken hits; there were dark bruises on his shoulder and chest. For a joust, though, he had taken impressive little punishment. His eyes caught mine, his face dark and closed like a door.
I looked to the fire. “You’ll do well tomorrow,” I told him. “Might even win the joust.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “The archery is the only thing that matters.”
“And bruising your competition, it seems.”
His teeth bared. “Battering them, if I can.”
I pulled a fur blanket around the loose dress for bed and climbed into the chair, curling tight.
There were a knock on the door, and my lady’s maid went to answer it. She spoke in hushed tones and then shut the door, coming back into the room.
“My lady, the princess requests you attend her on a purview of the market in the morning.”
“What does she need my attention for?” I grumbled.
“You know very well that a princess cannot be waited upon by commoners,” Gisbourne said. “It is an honor to be asked.”
“A backhanded honor,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Tell her no.” The order were for Mary, but I were looking to Gisbourne.
“The princess did not wait for a response, my lady,” Mary said.
“You can’t tell her no; that’s why she didn’t wait. Mary, Eadric, you’re dismissed,” Gisbourne said.
The servants left with the milords and miladies and such, and then I couldn’t hear naught but the fire crackling before me.
“It’s cold,” he said, looking at me.
That were as close as he’d ever come to asking for my wellness, and I looked away. “I like the cold.”
“It wasn’t always so,” he said, and I heard him creak into the bed. “I was hard pressed to get you out of the sun in the summer gardens when we first met.”
My chest went tight and my pipes stopped up as I thought of that, chasing Joanna’s streaming blond hair through the garden, watching as it caught the light and glittered. I thought maybe if I could just catch her, I could become her, all blond hair and light and happiness. But it weren’t never to be; the summer ended and Joanna died, and I were left in the dark-haired winter that I were born for. “Things changed.”
He grunted. “Quite.”
“Why did you bring me here?” I asked. “You knew they would hate me. You knew you’d be ridiculed for me. Why do it to yourself?”
“You are my wife.”
“But it don’t help you none.”
“You are the only reason I have a claim here. It doesn’t matter if I speak like a lord, they’ll always treat me like a dog until I have the lands and titles for their damned respect. You were born a lady and these adventures of yours are nothing but a passing fancy. You should know that by now—you can run from it, but you can never unmake your birth, and they know that. For both of us.”
“But—” I started.
“Besides,” he continued, routing me off. “Prince John demands, and I answer.”
“He wanted to see us as man and wife?”
“He doesn’t like people subverting his control. Did you think your follies would go unnoticed?”
I frowned. “Well, it ain’t like it were all my fault.”
“You are more dangerous than a few peasants and a fallen earl, Marian.”
“Why? Just because I’m a noble?”
“Good night, Marian.”
“Gisbourne—”
“Please let one night pass where I don’t need to be furious with you.”
It weren’t my fault he had the temper of a bear. It weren’t my fault that he made me come here, made me stay in this god-awful place. None of it were my fault.
Still, I stayed quiet.
Chapter Thirteen
The morning dawned cold and clear, and my husband were up as early as me, dressing for the second day of the joust. Mary fussed over me to make me ready to walk beside the princess, and I ain’t never felt so foolish.
“Here,” Gisbourne said as I were done. He tossed a purse of coin my way and I snatched it. “The princess will expect you to spend.”
I peeked inside. “You won’t see any of this back, you know.”
His lip curled up like a dog. “So be it. You’ve already been stealing from me anyway, haven’t you?”
Tying the purse inside my skirts, I didn’t cop to it none.
“Marian,” he said.
“Fine, I nicked the coins,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You married a thief, you should hide things better.”
“Marian,” he said, and I looked up. “Impress her.”
I wanted to ask why, but I knew he were sweet on Isabel. Or I reckoned I knew—but that would be part and parcel with my husband having sweetness, or even a heart, which I weren’t sure were so.
“I’ll try to be less your wild wife,” I told him. He nodded like it were some solemn thing I promised, and then he left.
Mary heaped me with a furry cloak and fancy gloves and ladylike boots that were fair useless, little more than fur-lined fabric in the shape of a boot with nothing to make it sturdy or stalwart in any measure. If I were to so much as run to the gates, they’d be naught but a heap of fur-lined shreds.
But for walking slow and making pretty, they were just fine.
I were shown to the princess’s chambers and made to wait outside until she were ready, with the higher-ranking ladies flocked about her. When she emerged, the few others standing there dropped to curtsies, and it took me a breath to remember I were meant to do it too.
“Come along,” she said, and we all stood and followed her out.
It were a messy business, so many puffed-up ladies walking down a single hallway, but the overly layered parade made it to the courtyard intact. It seemed we were meant to follow along behind the princess in a half circle, which one lady—who hadn’t introduced herself to me—waved her hands and swatted at me to make sure I’d do.
My hands curled to fists—I left my damn knives in the chambers. Which were probably a blessing, considering what notions ran through my head just then.