"You know," the queen said, her voice thoughtful and quiet. I went fair still, listening. "When I was made Louis' wife and queen of France at fifteen, my husband's court thought me a wild," she said slow. "I spoke my mind, and I loved to dance more than they thought entirely appropriate. They called me such names." Her cool, austere face curved with a regal smile. "I won them over, in time. They shouted my name and threw roses at my feet."

I stared at her. "I always heard you were unhappy in France."

She nodded, not looking at me. "Yes. Well, becoming an English queen after being a French one does call for some revision in history, doesn't it? And in the end, Louis' betrayal was perhaps the worst I have suffered." She lifted her shoulder. "But it led me here, to England, to my children." She chuckled. "Louis and I never fought quite so viciously as Henry and I did, though. Marriage is complicated."

I looked out over the field at Gisbourne's black-clad form. "Quite." I looked at her. "Is it true you fought in the first Crusade?"

She laughed and stared out over the field with a glow like a moonbeam. "A queen cannot reveal all her secrets, my dear." She tapped her lip with her finger, then continued to watch the jousts without saying another word.

My husband tilted in that round and won after a series of broken lances. His next contest were against de Clare, and he rode again, slamming a blow to the middle of de Clare's chest and unseating him with the first ride. When de Clare's helmet rolled loose, Gisbourne scooped it up with his lance and brought it to me on the platform like a trophy.

I took it. I stared at it, wondering if, without Th.o.r.esby in the race, Gisbourne had just won the whole of Nottinghamshire and didn't much know it yet.

Chapter Twelve.

I stayed out on the grounds till all the other ladies had long gone to fires, and my bones were ice even 'neath the furs and the softness. Gisbourne did well, but my eyes weren't for him. I'd seen John and Much, G.o.dfrey and even Tuck, but never once Rob.

I wanted to see him, to touch him again, to tell him my heart were near to bursting for him having slept a night. Even if it had to be without me, I wanted him well. A thousand times I started, seeing his height or his shape or his sand-fair hair, but it weren't never him, and by the end of the day my heartstrings were plucked as raw as the rest of me stood cold.

Even making my slow way back to the keep, I waited for the crunch of snow, the flash of dark against the white. He weren't there. He weren't with me. And hoping for it each moment were fair awful.

Though it weren't nothing close to hot, inside the walls of the castle were warm and heavy, like the truth of things cast about my shoulders thicker than a cloak. Outside, it were a glimmer of hope to see Rob, but I wouldn't never catch him inside the walls. Least, not without him being in trouble.

Sneaking about weren't as easy in n.o.ble's things, but I still managed, hanging about enough servants' quarters to hear them speak of Lord Th.o.r.esby, his arm broken three times over. He wouldn't never hold a sword again, and never ever could he fight for the role of sheriff.

I wanted to go to Lady Th.o.r.esby, but I couldn't. I couldn't face her.

I went back to the chambers slow, dragging my slippered toes along the stone. I'd wanted boots, but all the ladies wore the flimsy things, made sillier still by the servants dropping carpets over the snow to keep the ladies' toes dry. I'd muddied mine up a bit and the things were ruined, the whole of my feet ice-cold.

The chambers were empty, until my being there signaled my lady's maid to come in. I waved her off, dragging one of the furs from the bed to the fire, sitting on the hot stone by the hearth. I pulled my soaked, foolish stockings off and pressed my feet to the brick as close to the fire as I dared. I leaned against the stone, half inside the fireplace itself, trying to curl tight into the fire.

My eyes shut, and a vision of last Christmas, spent huddled in Tuck's with his girls and my boys and a roaring fire. There'd been dancinga"I never danced, even when John asked me, even when Rob stood and looked at me for a long breath. It had burned me then, thinking he looked at me and saw me and wouldn't choose me, but I knew better now. I knew he hadn't asked me for the same reason I hadn't asked him.

The door openeda"in the chambers, in the castle, though for a breath I didn't know where I werea"and my eyes dragged opened with it. Gisbourne walked in with his chamberlain clucking behind him, and he looked at me and I looked at him. His shirt were off, and his skin were red and raw like it were holding all the cold in Nottinghamshire. There were patches of darker red too, and I wondered, for the first time, if he'd been hurt during the joust.

"The snow prevents swelling," he said, and his eyes broke from mine.

I lifted a shoulder, looking back into the fire. "Cold is fair good for you, I reckon."

He grunted. I weren't sure if that were meant to be an agreement or not, but I didn't look over to decide. I shut my eyes, wishing for the dream again, but it didn't rise in the dark of my eyelids.

"Come along, Marian," he said after a while. "Supper is soon."

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 compet.i.tion, 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 t.i.tles for their d.a.m.ned respect. You were born a lady and these adventures of yours are nothing but a pa.s.sing fancy. You should know that by nowa"you can run from it, but you can never unmake your birth, and they know that. For both of us."

"Buta"" 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 n.o.ble?"

"Good night, Marian."

"Gisbournea""

"Please let one night pa.s.s 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 G.o.d-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 s.n.a.t.c.hed 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 knewa"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 st.u.r.dy 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 ladya"who hadn't introduced herself to mea"waved her hands and swatted at me to make sure I'd do.

My hands curled to fistsa"I left my d.a.m.n knives in the chambers. Which were probably a blessing, considering what notions ran through my head just then.

"Lady Leaford," Isabel called, not turning her head to me. She did crook a finger, though, and I took that as a summons. I stepped on the swatter's foot as I went and stood beside Isabel.

"Your Highness," I murmured.

"You shall be our guide," she said. "Come. This is your city, is it not? I wish to see it."

"It isn't truly," I denied, careful to say it straight.

"But you know it well. Don't be difficult. Show me," she said, meeting my eyes and still keeping her nose up. She weren't hard to look at, that were sure. Her skin were pale and her eyes brown and dark lashed; she were a fair English rose.

My mouth went tight. "Yes, your Highness."

We walked side by side down through the castle to the gate. I couldn't help but watch her dress drag through the dirt and mud and snow. Course that happened to most common folk too, but they tried to avoid it. The princess's dress were meant for it, and yet it might see a washing or two before the thing was cast aside. It were a miserable practice to flaunt to those that were oft born and buried in the same clothes.

The guards opened the gate, and like the skirt collecting dirt, two guards followed behind us as we went out.

I counted in my head. I were used to moving fast and quicka"it didn't help to be a still target when you were a thiefa"and these ladies were slower than changing seasons. I took a step and counted, then took another.

"So," Isabel said to me, "you must tell me how you know Eleanor."

My mouth opened to question it when I realized who she were thinking of. "Of Aquitaine? You mean the queen?"

"Queen Mother," she corrected. "Yes, of course."

I made a fair unladylike sound that one of the women jumped at. "I never met her before yesterday." I shrugged. "Well, she near run me down in a carriage the day before."

"My dear, you are not well skilled at such games. You see, I know there is something between you two. Eleanor of Aquitaine approves of no one and she's publicly lauded you. Beyond that, she requested to sit next to you at the joust."

My fingers pressed light to the bruises on my face. "I fair think she only defended me, not approved overmuch," I said. "And I can't speak to the rest. If Eleanor has some sort of interest in me, I don't know of it."