He had not even kissed her. She had wanted him to, but it was like he had retreated inside of himself. She’d seen that happen to him at times, but it never been with her or caused by her.
It hurt.
She wished she had been brave enough to lean in herself and offer a small kiss. To let him know that she understood why he was suffering.
She sat up a little straighter, easing her grip on Humphrey’s mane. This was not the end.
She would still write to him. He would visit her. Just the thought of sharing Lockwood with him made her smile.
She raised her hand in a final farewell, attempting to breathe through her rapidly closing throat.
Turning to face the road ahead, she swallowed several times. Her hands squeezed and twisted the leather reins that guided Humphrey’s head.
Her poor donkey. His trot was stiff, likely from the brisk cold in the early morning air. But he also frequently sensed and responded to her own emotions, which, today, were far from calm.
“This is not goodbye,” she reassured herself. “We will write to each other. Often.”
She focused her gaze on the waking city in front of her, but the image of a lone lanky boy stayed imprinted on her mind.
Home was ahead. And she had a bag of gold tied tightly under the layers of her skirt.
King Frederich had promised to ensure she was financially taken care of—likely a way to ease his own conscience after sending his own ward away from the castle. While she had enjoyed her time with the royal family over the last few seasons, the castle had never fully felt like home.
No, home was a modest wooden manor deep in Lockwood Forest. And she would be there today to see it in the warm glow of the late afternoon sun.
As they left the noisy streets of the city, Robin became ever more aware of the pouch of jingling coins at her waist. She wanted to open the bag and toss handfuls of her bounty out to every sad-eyed child they passed.
But the money she carried was the king’s money. Gold that he’d sent with her to last through the end of greenreign. Gold to support her and all those her family—she, now—was responsible for in Lockwood. Washed-out farmlands, fields that should have been full of fresh harvests but that were now flooded and dying.
Two of the king’s guard rode at her back, escorting her safely back home. Their watchful eyes kept her hands on herreins and her eyes on the road. The king’s gold, now hers, was hers to spend as she saw fit as soon as she was home. But here, on the king’s road with the king’s guard, she felt watched. Judged. Frederich wanted her and her fiery ways far away from his impressionable children and court.
She would use the gold to help the people of Lockwood. But, perhaps, she could spend some of it on something to spite the king. Maybe she could give it to a common thief? Someone to whom Frederich would apply a stricter form of justice.
Even if King Frederich would never know where his gold had been spent, she found a certain pleasure in imagining all the ways she could use it in which he would disapprove.
She could gift it to a rebellious traitor, or even a Majis! Ha. How would King Frederich even comprehend his money being gifted to a magic wielder?
Robin enteredthe old wooden stable near the back of the clearing. It had long ago gotten too small to house their growing horse herd, but her favorite mount still lived inside it. The comfortably familiar stench of dung and sweat hit her nose just as an excited bray washed over her ears.
“Good morning, Humphrey.” Her voice dropped to a deeper register as she cooed at her old friend. “I know, I know. I am late.”
“He looks well,” Ian said from behind her.
“He is as ornery as ever,” Robin said, scooping up a fresh armful of straw. “But still a sweet boy despite his old age.”
She dumped the feed into his trough and scratched that spot he liked between his ears as he bent forward to nibble on the straw.
“At least it costs nothing to keep him fed,” she said. “Perhaps Ilida could try feeding people straw along with their wood chips.” She turned to face Ian, keeping her hand on Humphrey for support. “I cannot help you save the castle,” she said bluntly.
“Our soldiers will fight with us,” Ian said, stepping closer to her as his words spilled out faster. “You have the people, do you not? Together we could create a plan, infiltrate the castle, and remove Gareth.”
“How much bloodshed would that cause and for what gain?” Robin replied. “Even if we were to kill Gareth himself, he has soldiers, generals, councilors—all who will happily do anything to either kill the Majis or use them. I will not risk the lives of my people to save your castle.”
“To save my family,” Ian corrected her. His arms were crossed, but his voice was soft.
“I care about your family,” Robin said, adding gentleness to her words. “But what about the families I am trying to save? The Majis Gareth is bringing over from Istroya to torture and drain for his chaos magic? The farmers who will starve this silverreign because Gareth’s soldiers have taken all their crops and livestock? The people of this kingdom who need more support from their king?”
“And you think that my father and his councilors are unaware of this?” Ian replied. “That we do not know that our people are starving? We have lowered the taxes, we are feeding half the city from the castle kitchens, we have been doing all we can to prepare for the Majis threat—”
