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Lady Winthrop shot me a prim look. “My dear girl, you do know that my husband and your father fought in the Battle of Montgisard, all those years ago, when they were young?”
I nodded dumbly.
She chuckled, then dropped the bombshell. “Well, you don’t think I let my husband go crusading alone, do you?” She tut-tutted, then leaned back again. “Now, as I said. Let us use the calm before the storm to prepare.”
I stared, then followed suit. And bit by bit, hope filtered back into my soul. I had a hell of a lot of unlikely allies — Willa, Robynne, and, most of all, Tuck. But, wow. Maybe I’d just stumbled across one more.
Chapter Eighteen
TUCK
Galloping away from Marian was hell. Watching from a distance as Prince John, his men, and Marian’s carriage passed through Nottingham’s east gate by flickering torchlight had been hell.
And hell was what I vowed to rain down on Prince John and Lady Thornton as I galloped into Sherwood Forest on Snow not long afterward.
Yes, Snow — Marian’s beautiful white mare. Lord Winthrop had given me his best horse, but it had already been ridden hard the previous day through all the messaging back and forth between allies. The horse ran gallantly, but after an hour, he pulled up lame.
I was about to shift and run on my own four feet when Snow appeared out of nowhere. At first, I’d wondered how she’d found me, but then I knew.
Thank you, Marian, I whispered, petting Snow.
I could feel our unicorn bond tug on my heart, directing me toward my mate. Marian must have passed the reverse information to Snow.
As I’d saddled her with the gear from my exhausted horse, Snow tossed her mane.
I’m only subjecting myself to this indignity for my mistress, you know.
Oh, I knew. And I appreciated it.
Thank you, Snow, I’d said as I mounted.
She shot off, as concerned for Marian as I was.
She’d reared and whinnied angrily when Marian’s wagon entered Nottingham and only reluctantly turned for Sherwood Forest afterward. But she carried me as quickly and faithfully as I could ask, thundering through the forest.
And, zing! The metallic sound of a dozen hastily drawn swords greeted our approach to Robynne’s camp.
“Halt! Who goes there?” John Little boomed.
“Watch out! It’s a knight,” Robert warned. “And boy, does he look angry.”
Yes, I was. And as for the knight part…from now until the time I freed Marian, that was what I would be.
Funny how a man could yearn for something for years, only to find himself willing to trade his soul to reverse the situation completely. Being a knight was my sole desire, but not if it meant Marian was in danger.
My lion snarled. When I get my claws on Prince John…
Oh, we would make him pay, all right. We would definitely make him pay.
I leaped off Snow before she even stopped. Not a great move, because the momentum nearly propelled me into the bonfire. I took five huge, careening strides before I pulled up at the edge of the flames.
“Watch it there, son,” old Christopher muttered.
I took a step back, gulping.
“Tuck?” John Little’s eyes went wide.
“They have Marian,” I blurted — at the very same time that Robert uttered almost those exact words.
