Lady Thief (Page 4)

“I don’t want to learn the bow so much. Can we practice more with the knives?” she asked.

Nodding, I stood from the ledge and pulled Much up with me. Looking at her, making herself small even in this place where she knew there weren’t nothing to fear, my breath caught. “I reckon so. Much, will you run and snatch a few?”

He looked at my vest where I had at least three, but I met his eyes full and he nodded. He went past Missy, touching her arm a little, and she raised her eyes to him and held her breath till he passed.

Were Missy sweet on Much? That would be a match to be sure—though I weren’t the sort to know if a love could survive with so much shy and kind in it.

I waved her closer, and she drifted up to me. “Did something happen, Missy?” I asked her.

A wash of color went all over her face, splotches of pink and red like fast-blooming roses. “Y-yes,” she said. “Sort of. I was at market, and a man, he put his arms on my waist and he said something—something awful,” she said, her gaze falling to the wooden floor and her hands shaking.

“Oh—” I started, but she weren’t finished.

“And I did what you said. I stepped on his foot, and I hit him with my elbow,” she said, wrapping her arms tight round herself. “And he let me go, and I ran. But I think I’d feel better with a knife.”

My heart filled up hard and fast, bits of happiness spilling over the edges and slopping around inside my chest. Most nights it felt like God himself were punishing me, but seeing a girl protect herself instead of asking someone to do it for her felt like some kind of redemption. “Then we’ll get you a knife,” I told her.

It were late in the afternoon when Thoresby came in, two servants with him carrying food for the children. He nodded to us and came closer, leaving the children—and John, the big hungry thing—to descend on the food.

Thoresby weren’t a big man. He weren’t an overstrong man, or clever, or young. But he were always fair, and I liked that about him.

“Have you heard anything?” Rob asked. His body turned a bit, leaning toward mine, like everything in him were pulling him closer to me and stopping just short of touching.

Thoresby nodded. “The prince is coming to Nottinghamshire. They’re speeding up progress on the wall to be ready in time—a fortnight at the most.”

I sucked in a breath. “Will he name a sheriff?” I asked.

“If he’s decided, he hasn’t let me know.”

“But he received your petition for it?” Rob asked.

Thoresby sighed. “The messenger assured me he received it. Robin, I warned you not to rest too much hope on this. It’s a very political appointment, and he has nothing to gain from appointing me.”

“Nonsense,” Rob said, waving this off. “You’re well thought of at court.”

“If I’m ever there,” he said. “It’s unlikely at best, Robin.”

“He’ll appoint you. Who else could he choose?”

“There are still unclaimed lands,” he said. “Most of your old Huntingdon properties are still unentailed. He could easily bring someone into the county to make them eligible. And many minor landholders are eligible. There are a surprising number of possibilities.”

Muscle in Rob’s jaw flickered and bulged out. “Then gain his notice. Persuade him. Do something, Thoresby,” Rob snapped.

“I know how much you want me to be sheriff, but you must prepare yourself—” he said, clapping his hand on Rob’s shoulder.

Rob pushed it off. “No. No. What I must prepare myself for is defending the people again, because clearly I’m the only one willing to stand up for them.”

Thoresby heaved a great sigh and looked round at the barn. “Things seem to be going well here, Robin. It was a good idea.”

“It was Scar’s idea,” he said, flat. “Good thing they’re learning to protect themselves—those children are growing up in a world where not one of the people who are duty-bound to honor and shelter them care for their well-being. Or don’t you remember what they have suffered under the last sheriff? They were taxed and tortured within an inch of their lives, Thoresby. Have you forgotten?”

Thoresby looked at me. I shook my head and opened my mouth to defend Thoresby, say something to allow for Rob’s short words and shorter temper, but Thoresby’s eyes went to my neck.

My hand ran quick to it, covering up where I thought I had done. “It’s not—” I started, but Thoresby shook his head.

“You don’t owe me any kind of explanation.” He looked to Rob. “We all want to see these people safe and protected, Robin. And evidently, we all fail in our own ways.” He sighed again, tucking his hands round back behind him. “Use the barn as long as you like.”

Thoresby left, and the children laughed at something John said.

Rob turned and slammed his foot against the nearest stall door. It wrenched with an awful noise, and the whole thing shattered, throwing chunks to the ground and leaving rough pieces hanging on the hinge. Thank God there weren’t no horse in there, or Rob would have been kicked something awful.

The children stopped laughing.

“Go on home,” Much said to them. “We’ll be back again, when you see the ribbon at the well. Be careful.”

John started herding them out, and I crossed my arms. Rob snapped another bit of wood, color moving ’cross his face, wild and harsh. He bent down to grab another piece, and I cursed at him, rushing forward.

I hit the wood from his hands and pushed him, pressing him up against the wall, my hands on his shoulders. It weren’t a fierce grip, not like John might, but it were enough to stop him. “What are you doing?” I snapped.

He pushed up, using my grip against me and moving me back with his shoulders in my hands, powerful and strong but gentle. My back nudged the other wall and he pressed closer, leaning against me. His breath were rough and hot and puffed over my cheek, my ear, my neck.

My hands curled slow around him, drawing him close to me, tight against me. “What are you doing, Rob?” I whispered.

He tucked his face into my shoulder and drew long, shuddering breaths. “We’re not going to make it through this, Scar. Not another sheriff. Not another nightmare.” His voice dropped, and if it weren’t for the way the words slipped along my skin, I would have doubted he spoke them. “I’m not going to make it through this again.”