She dropped her hand and found herself staring straight into the eyes of a certain crown prince, and all the tension rushed right back into her head.
That greater goal would be completely nullified if Gareth had followed Ian to her humble manor.
“I told you not to make contact with me here,” Robin said, her voice terse, frustration from the previous conversation spilling over. She broke her gaze from his, looking quickly around the clearing to ensure that none of the rescued Majis were in eyesight. Of course, Ulli would have seen to that before leading Ian beyond the front gate—short as it was.
“I was careful,” Ian responded, taking a step closer. He looked exhausted and out of place in his well-made, dust-covered riding clothes. His dark hair was windswept and wild, his face lined with weariness. But his eyes, serious as ever, were fixed on her face with desperation. He needed something from her.
She sighed.
“Hopefully, no one will even discover that I have left the castle for several more days,” Ian continued. “According to the story Onric is telling, I am currently quite ill and stuck in bed.” He took another step closer so that he was standing directly in front of her. “I need your help,” he said, his voice lower so only she could hear. “Gareth has taken control of the castle.”
“I know,” Robin replied. “Word reaches me quickly.”
“Did word reach you that my father is injured?” Ian asked.
Robin nodded. She had heard that as well. “How badly?” she asked, not sure she could trust her sources. “I only heard that he is in a deep sleep?” A member of River’s Talon had arrived on horseback late the previous night, sharing the news. However, it was clear that the information about the castle attack had been filtered through Gareth, and Robin was not sure how much of it to believe.
Ian nodded, his face somehow more weary than before. “He was not awake when I left last night. The physicians do not know if he will wake. His leg is also broken.”
Robin looked up at him, her exhausted mind too full to take on another person’s problems. “Please tell me you are only here to take Rowena home?”
Ian shook his head, not even smiling at her attempt to jest. He could probably hear the desperation behind her words. “I need to take the castle back from Gareth,” he said, speaking quietly so that no one else could hear him. “Before he hurts another member of my family.”
Robin said nothing, waiting for him to make an actual ask.
“His men outnumber us,” Ian finally continued. “I need your help to take back the castle.”
Robin stared at him, unable to breathe in against the weight on her chest. She would much rather be arguing with Ilida. “Let us speak elsewhere,” she said. She led the way further into theclearing away from the manor. The members of her community gave her little notice as she walked through them.
Ian, walking beside her, received more than a few curious glances.
“And what help do you think I could provide?” she asked.
Ian looked at her, but then he looked away before answering. “I do not fully know the breadth of your reach, but you have resources, a network of people who already believe that Gareth is dangerous.”
“Have you forgotten how recently I tried to take gold from you?” Robin asked, turning to him quickly enough to catch the small ghost of a smile that flickered across his face. “Resources are something that I sorely lack.”
“Help me,” Ian said, his voice sincere. He picked up his pace, walking slightly in front of her so he could turn to face her. “Help me take back control of the castle and thwart Gareth in his plans. I can repay you in gold.”
“Hah.” Robin wanted to laugh. “What do you think I have been doing with your father’s gold these last ten years?” She turned around, sweeping her hand toward the cottages they had since walked past as they neared the open fields.
“He has been sending you gold?” Ian asked.
“I am his ward,” Robin said. “When he sent me away, he said he would never ask Lockwood for any taxes, rather that he would provide me with gold every season. He has been true to his word.” She opened the gate to a wooden stable.
“I am happy to hear that,” Ian said. “He never spoke of what happened in that meeting. Only once.”
Robin did not want to relive the painful memory of when Frederich had sent her away, saying that her rebellious nature was not suitable for his children to be exposed to. He did not have to state that he did not approve of her then-growing relationship with his eldest son.
She’d always wondered how he had broken the news to Ian. She had, perhaps naively, expected that Ian would see things her way, maybe stand up to his father and demand that she stay. Instead, she had ridden away from the castle with a broken heart and a pouch full of gold coins.
Robin riskedone look over her shoulder.
Standing open to the world—though now closed to her—a wide wooden gate broke through the thick castle wall. In that open gateway, a single lone figure watched her retreat.
Ian. Tall, lanky, and far too human to be the future king of Iseldis.
His face had been so cold, so prince like, as he’d said goodbye.
