I traced the letters with my fingers, but I didn’t open them. Now that we were here, now that Eleanor were coming, maybe I could go back to Nottingham.

But no matter where I went, if Prince John knew I lived, he would find me. He would hunt me down, and he would make the people I loved pay for my being alive before he took my life at last. He’d branded me a traitor, and there were little I could do to stop him.

Maybe he wouldn’t kill me. Maybe he’d throw me back in a prison, a place of darkness, until the world forgot I’d been there at all.

How long would it take Rob to forget me?

There weren’t no answers that would satisfy me. But I knew that if I opened one of Rob’s letters, saw his writing and pictured him penning the things to me, I’d go. I’d go straight away to Nottingham, and I’d risk watching him die in front of me at Prince John’s gleeful hand.

Stacking and tying them careful, I put them away and lay on the bed.

Chapter 5

Eleanor didn’t arrive until the next morning. When she came, it were in a carriage, with a small cadre of knights behind her. I frowned to see it from a window of the manor—she were the queen mother. She needed more protection than a handful of knights, no matter how loyal they were.

I came away from the window, waiting for her in a private chamber. I paced as moment after moment ticked by. Longer. Longer. Longer. I stared at the window, wondering if there were any risk of this being a trap. I’d only seen her carriage, after all, not her person. The message could have gone astray. Someone else could have read it and known what it meant. The person behind the door could be Prince John himself.

I didn’t have any weapons. Why had I not considered that before now?

The door latch lifted, and it opened slow. I held a breath, looking at it.

Eleanor’s pale face were flushed with color, her eyes bright and filled with water as she stood before me. The water fell, crystal drops running over her skin as she swept forward, pulling me hard into her arms. She were shaking, and I hugged her back without a thought.

“My God,” she whispered in my ear. “My God.”

Her hands touched my hair, touched my face, pulled me back from her a little to stroke my cheeks and then hug me again.

“You’re alive,” she breathed.

I nodded tight into her neck.

“I will not fail you again, my girl. I will protect you, I promise.” She nodded hard against me, like she agreed with her own self. “I’ll make you a lady-in-waiting. Or perhaps—perhaps you should leave. John thinks you’re dead, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, but—”

Her eyes narrowed. “He will know of my displeasure, Marian, but I confess that keeping you from his sight may be the smartest choice for now.”

I pulled away. “Your displeasure.”

“Yes.”

“So . . . what?” I asked. “You will scold him? He near killed me! A man died in the attempt, and all you are is displeased?”

“What do you want of me, Marian? His temper got the best of him.”

“No—he planned this. He tried to murder me in cold blood, Eleanor. He stole my necklace, and he wouldn’t watch while they did it. He wanted to be far enough away that he could deny it.”

She shook her head, proud and resolute. “He wouldn’t dare.”

“But he did. So, why, Eleanor?” I demanded. “Why would he kill me now, when he wouldn’t have dared before? Your disapproval hasn’t changed. He knows that. But there’s one person he fears more than you. There’s one person he knew he’d have to answer to, and damn soon.”

Her mouth turned down, her white face stony and cold. “That isn’t true.”

“He’s planning to kill Richard, Eleanor,” I told her.

“Why would you say such a thing?” she demanded. “He would never—”

“Hurt his own flesh?” I growled. “His own blood ?”

She glanced over me. “He doesn’t have it in him to kill Richard, Marian.”

“Well he’s planning to. Or planning to thwart the ransom somehow, I’m not sure. Only that he tried to kill me because he believes Richard will never set foot in England again.”

“You don’t know that!” she snapped at me.

“He said so!” I snapped back. I looked at her, straight in her eyes, blue like the coldest ocean water. “Do you really not believe that Prince John would covet his brother’s throne?” I asked her. “That he could easily murder his own nephew to surpass him in the succession?”

“He needs armies! Men, and Englishmen will not follow him. The nobles can be bought, but armies are a different thing, my girl.” She shook her head.

“Armies he can buy as well,” I told her. “In France, to start with. Think, Eleanor—to capture a crusader on a mission that has been sanctioned by the Pope is to risk excommunication from the Church—why would the Holy Roman Emperor ever risk that? What would induce Prince John to such a crime? He doesn’t want the Crown of England for himself, or he would have invaded instead of sending a ransom demand. Prince John could have set all of this up, Eleanor. Everything.”

“John doesn’t have that kind of money,” she said. “He’s a fifth son, even if he is a prince.”

“He has the will,” I told her. “He has the kind of manipulative mind to put such a thing in motion. You know he does.”