《Wren of Sherwood》


 Prologue

    My feet pounded on the hard forest ground, my lungs burning, tears filling my eyes. Behind us I could hear the sounds of the soldiers, shouting and crashing through the trees. Darkness engulfed us, the pale moonlight that filtered through the canopy of leaves barely illuminating our path.


    We''re going to die.


    My foot caught on a rock and I stumbled. Only my grip on my brother''s hand kept me upright.


    "We''re almost there," Robin said, not slowing his pace.


    I couldn''t speak or nod. My body was too exhausted. Instead, I kept running.


    A little farther. A little farther.


    I crashed into Robin, gripping onto his shirt to stay upright. A breeze rustled through the trees, making me shiver as I panted for breath.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    The guards were close. I could hear them, see their lights as they combed the forest. Searching for us.


    Robin stood still, studying a small clearing ahead. It was ringed with flowers and faintly luminescent mushrooms. A fairy circle.


    Robin pulled a thin metal rod the size of a ruler from the pack on his back. Then he picked me up.


    I hugged his neck as the noises of soldiers grew close. I was far too tired to question my brother or complain that he was treating me like a child, rather than the grown-up ten year old I was.


    "Whatever happens, don''t make a move or a sound," Robin said, his voice low.


    I nodded, my eyes growing heavy as exhaustion took over.


    Robin stepped forward, into the fairy circle.


    My heart lurched as a sense of weightlessness settled over me, like I was endlessly falling. I squeezed my eyes shut, tensing for impact.


    Suddenly the sensation vanished.


    I opened my eyes, blinking as I tried to adjust to the sudden presence of sunlight. Through the trees I could just make out the glowing orange sun rising in the distance.


    Robin stepped out of the fairy circle we stood in, a different one than we were in before.


    "We''re safe now," he said. "We''re home."


    We didn''t die.


    I closed my eyes, letting the exhaustion pull me into the darkness of sleep.

 Chapter 1

    I sneezed, the scent of old coffee and dusty parchment cloying in the tiny office. Papers, books, mugs, and antiques covered every inch of the space, from the desk to the windowsill of the small window.


    I fiddled with the small pebble I held, letting the warm power of the forest¡¯s magic seep through my gloves and warm my fingers. I needed to figure out where to hide the listening stone where it wouldn¡¯t be found or disturbed.


    I have about half an hour before Mr. Fenwick is supposed to return. Still, I should leave as soon as possible.


    ¡°Let¡¯s continue this discussion in my office,¡± a man¡¯s muffled voice drifted through the closed door.


    My heart stilled as I froze, trapped.


    Where was I supposed to hide? There were no closets or cabinets or drapes to hide behind. If I was caught¡­


    I looked around the room wildly, my eyes catching on a settee covered entirely by several blankets. Was it raised enough for me to wiggle under?


    The doorknob rattled.


    I was out of time.


    I dove at the settee, scurrying under it as I cursed the long skirts I wore as my disguise.


    The door creaked open just as I tucked my feet out of sight.


    ¡°Please, take a seat Lord Alwin,¡± the man ¡ªMr. Fenwick¡ª said, his shoes tapping on the tiled floors.


    I kept my breathing shallow, even as my heart pounded in my ears.


    This is bad. Really bad,


    The pebble I still gripped grew warmer, the heat seeping through my gloves.


    ¡°The documents, if you please,¡± a man said in a crisp, harsh voice that could only belong to Lord Alwin ¡°the rebellion slayer¡±.


    Shuffling noises filled the room. ¡°Right, of course. The trade routes are essential to the war efforts, I can imagine.¡±


    I was going to be stuck for a while.


    Robin¡¯s going to kill me. If I can make it out of this mess alive, that is.


    It was supposed to be a simple mission: get into the Merchant¡¯s guild hall, plant a few listening stones, and get out. But the getting out part was growing more and more difficult.


    I might as well make the most of this while I¡¯m stuck here.


    I shoved the pebble into the back of the settee leg closest to my head, using the bit of metal sewn into the wrist of my glove to push it into the wood. The few sounds I made were covered up by Mr. Fenwick¡¯s incessant babbling about contracts and tariffs. Stuff Will would have to interpret later.


    ¡°Are you not prepared for this meeting?¡± Lord Alwin asked, his scornful voice cutting through Mr. Fenwick¡¯s nervous chatter. ¡°Prince John is not a patient man.¡±


    ¡°Of course, of course. Let me get you the contracts and let you be off. I am sure you are very busy, advising the king and helping Sir Gisbourne stamp out rebellion. Ah, here they are.¡±


    ¡°Good day,¡± Lord Alwin said, enunciating every syllable.


    Heavy footsteps echoed off the tiled floors, then the door slammed shut.


    Footsteps approached the settee. I froze, holding my breath as Mr. Fenwick collapsed onto the settee with a world-weary sigh.


    I was still trapped. And there was no hope of escaping while Mr. Fenwick was at another meeting, as he had nothing more on his schedule.


    I need to leave soon. Time is running out.


    The small space under the settee was hot and stuffy now, making it hard to breathe. Sweat trickled down my back as I bit my lip, considering my options.


    I started to reach for the small vile I kept in my dress pocket. The vile, when uncorked, created a smokescreen that lasted several minutes. It would alert Mr. Fenwick to my presence, but would allow me to escape.


    I didn¡¯t want to use it if I didn¡¯t have to.


    Did I have anything else?


    My fingers brushed my second, and only other vile, wrapped in my handkerchief. An airborne sedative that was extremely potent.


    If I use this, I¡¯ll have to be very careful to not inhale any.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Breathing even a little of the gas the vial contained would muddle my mind and potentially put me to sleep with Mr. Fenwick. That was unspeakably dangerous. Not to mention, Robin would kill me. Plus, I wouldn¡¯t be able to move for several minutes, until the sedative took full effect. I couldn¡¯t risk Mr. Fenwick later identifying me.


    I was running out of time. Soon the secretary I had checked in with would note I hadn¡¯t returned my guest pass on time, and start a search. If that happened, there would be no escape.


    I need to do this now. Sorry Robin.


    I pulled the vile out of my pocket, unwrapping it and covering my mouth and nose with my handkerchief. Slowly, carefully, I uncorked the vile as I held my breath, poking the vile out from under the blankets.


    My lungs burned as I listened to Mr. Fenwick¡¯s unintelligible mumblings, counting the seconds. One minute passed, and I took a shallow breath. The bitter taste of the sedative coated my tongue, making my eyes water.


    I corked the bottle, my movements clumsy as my head spun.


    I don¡¯t have time for this.


    Soft snoring filled the air. This sedative usually took fifteen minutes to set in fully. But Mr. Fenwick had seemed fatigued, needing only a small push in the direction of sleep.


    I tucked the vile away in my pocket and wiggled out from under the settee. My body was stiff and my lungs screamed for air as the handkerchief I still pressed against my mouth and nose made it difficult to breath the few shallow breaths I allowed myself.


    I stood, my head spinning, and stepped to the door, opening it a crack. The hall was, thankfully, deserted.


    I slipped out of the tiny office, closing the door behind me and shoving my handkerchief into my dress pocket. I gasped for air as I stumbled forward, turning a corner as I struggled to remember the way back to the lobby.


    Thankfully the fresh air started to clear some of the fog that had settled in my mind.


    I still need to get out of here fast.


    I stepped into the visitor¡¯s entrance lobby. It was nearly deserted as well, with most merchants busy in their offices or in meetings elsewhere. My shoes clicked on the elaborately tiled floors, the wood paneling and many paintings on the walls not dampening the noise in the massive room. The many seating areas, screened by large potted plants or tucked into nooks of the room, called to me. My eyes were heavy, my mind growing dull.


    No! I need to get out of here first.


    I shook my head, then pasted on a smile and approached the counter at the back of the room that housed several secretaries.


    ¡°I have a pass to return,¡± I said, keeping my voice light and melodic.


    The secretary nodded to me.


    I unpinned the ¡°pass¡±¡ªa slip of paper with my name, purpose for visiting, and visiting times¡ªfrom the front of my dress and handed the paper and safety pin to the secretary.


    ¡°You¡¯re cutting it close,¡± the woman, an older lady who had a no-nonsense air about her, remarked.


    I nodded. ¡°It was a productive visit.¡±


    ¡°You are free to go,¡± the secretary said.


    I turned and crossed the room. A guard opened one of the massive, elaborately carved double doors for me, and I slipped outside, making my way down the steps and into the market square beyond the Merchants¡¯ guild hall.


    The square was crowded with people, stalls and carts crowding together in rows. Workers shouted at passers by, calling out prices and wares. People called to friends, the sounds of friendly conversation a buzzing sound filling my ears and making my head pound. The scent of spices and new leather clung to the air.


    No wonder the merchants all use a different entrance. This place is chaotic.


    I quickened my pace, my stomach churning as my headache intensified.


    I needed to get out of here quickly. It was a two mile walk back to the forest. Then I could use a fairy circle to get back home.


    A man bumped into me, nearly knocking me over.


    ¡°Sorry miss,¡± he called as he hurried off.


    I kept pushing forward, breaking out of the market and into the streets of Nottingham.


    I wasn¡¯t going to make it. And with my clothes, I couldn¡¯t find a place to sleep off the sedative within the city. My navy blue dress, matching cloak, leather ankle boots, and white kid gloves were all relatively new, and of a simple but modern design. Perfect for a young lady visiting her well-off-but-not-noble merchant father. Not so perfect for walking around unaccompanied in the city, drugged by my own sedative.


    A tram¡¯s cheerful bell chimed.


    I looked up, realizing I had paused in front of a tram stop. The map, displayed on a sign by the road, showed that the tram would stop near Sherwood forest.


    Perfect.


    I got out my coin purse and approached the tram, handing the fare to the driver and stepping inside. I took a seat near the front, pinching my arm to stay awake.


    The tram was nearly empty, and picked up only a few passengers on the following stops. Most were coming into the inner city, rather than leaving it.


    Time seemed to stretch on endlessly, sleep calling to me like a fey calling its prey into the fairy realm.


    Just a little longer.


    The tram driver called out my stop. I stood, swaying slightly as I stumbled off the bus. Sherwood forest towered over me, the road delving into it like a winding snake, the branches curving overhead, blocking out the sun.


    I picked up my pace, the forest a bright green haven in my mind.


    Just a little longer.


    I stepped into the forest, off the road, into its depths.


    There.


    A small fairy circle, ringed with moss-covered stones, was nestled several feet in front of me.


    It was risky, going into a fairy circle so out of it. But I was seconds from blacking out. Better in a random part of the forest than beside the road, easily found by foresters.


    Please take me somewhere safe.


    I stumbled forward, my vision growing dark as I stepped inside the circle.


    Darkness swallowed me, and I was falling endlessly in a dark pit. I could feel my consciousness fading, darkened by the sedative.


    No!


    I hit the ground with a thud, tipping forward. My vision blurred and darkened as I fell to the hard forest floor in a heap, the damp earth seeping through my dress.


    Where am I? I need to get someplace safe.


    My thoughts raced together, muddled and frenzied as my eyes closed on their own accord.


    Slowly, everything faded away. The sounds and smells of the forest. My thoughts. The pain of my pounding headache. Everything was dark. I was under the sedative¡¯s spell at last.

 Chapter 2

    I stood in Sherwood forest, at the start of a path that stretched into the forest. It was lined with dark blue flowers that wound around trees and hung from their branches, and emerald green crystals that jutted out of earth and bark alike. Both glowed, their light soft and gentle like moonlight, lighting the dark forest. Stars peaked through the thick canopy of leaves above me, and a fey¡¯s flute drifted on the night air, barely audible.


    A woman approached, her skin the vibrant green of moss, long pointed ears poking out of her dazzling white hair like the full moon itself. Her eyes were the color of the waters of Sherwood, ever-changing blues and greens. She wore a gown the earthy brown of tree bark, flowering vines wrapping around her torso and right arm, and no shoes. I knew she was ancient, despite her ageless appearance.


    I felt drawn to her, yet I was frozen in place by her power as she met my gaze. Was she a friend, or a foe, or something else entirely?


    The woman laughed, the sound like a burbling stream. ¡°Darling of the forest, my little birdsong, my baby Wren.¡±


    ***


    I blinked slowly, the world around me muffled and eerily bright.


    Where am I? What was that?


    The memories of my mission, the sedative, jumping into the fairy circle, and the strange dream slammed into me.


    I hate sedatives.


    I sat up slowly, blinking as the word began to shift back into focus. I was in the forest, surrounded by trees, just barely outside a fairy ring made of opalescent flowers and mushrooms. It was one near the village, but not well used.


    ¡°Next time you decide to take a nap, I recommend a bed,¡± Will Scarlet said, his voice light and teasing. ¡°Not the forest floor.¡±


    I looked up to see Will sitting on a large boulder nearby, cleaning his sword.


    I coughed, my mouth feeling like cotton. My dress was damp from the ground, and I knew there were probably leaves in my hair.


    Will sheathed his sword and tossed me the water bottle that hung from his belt. ¡°I can¡¯t leave you for a second without disaster striking, can I?¡±


    I caught the water bottle and sipped at the cool liquid, the cotton feeling dissipating.


    ¡°I just breathed in a bit of the sedative. I was fine.¡±


    ¡°Every time I let you do anything by yourself, or so much as step foot outside the village, it¡¯s the same story,¡± Will complained.


    ¡°I can take care of myself!¡±


    ¡°I beg to differ, as I have to rescue you nearly every other day.¡±


    Will crossed his arms and glared down at me, the look giving Robin¡¯s glares a run for their money. I threw his water bottle back at him, but my arms were stiff and sore from the sedative. Or perhaps it was my nap on the forest floor? Either way, it landed harmlessly in a bush several feet away from me.Stolen novel; please report.


    I glared at Will.


    It wasn¡¯t bad enough to have one older brother. I just had to get stuck with a second one I¡¯m not even related to.


    Will sighed and slid off the boulder, ¡°Robin¡¯s going to kill me when he finds out about this.¡±


    ¡°Robin doesn¡¯t have to know.¡±


    I stood on shaky legs as Will retrieved his water bottle and clipped it back on his belt, brushing as much of the dirt and leaves off my skirt as possible.


    ¡°He¡¯s going to find out I¡¯ve been covering for you eventually,¡± Will said as he set out into the forest. ¡°So really, it¡¯s just a matter of when your brother will kill me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a rebel spy. I went through a full year of training,¡± I complained as I followed behind him. ¡°And I¡¯m good at it too, at least with the simpler missions Robin needs done. It¡¯s not like we¡¯re one of the units in the capitol or doing any long term missions. Our only job is funds collecting. We barely count as a rebel unit!¡±


    Will rubbed his forehead, looking tired. ¡°If you mess up and draw the attention of the capitol and Prince John, the other rebel units will have to cut us off. We¡¯d have to leave Sherwood. We¡¯re a support crew, which means we can¡¯t afford to mess this up. You¡¯re sixteen, you shouldn¡¯t even be working without a partner yet.¡±


    I rolled my eyes as I ducked under a low hanging branch, the sedative¡¯s effects wearing off as I moved. ¡°You were sixteen when you came here.¡±


    ¡°That was four years ago. And the rebellion continues, a never ending fight in the shadows to protect the weak and vulnerable and remove corruption.¡±


    Sherwood Village was in sight now.


    It was a ring of tall, ancient trees, the spaces between filled with a curved wall of vines woven tightly together. (The vines, thorny on the exterior and smooth on the interior, unable to be burnt or chopped down or planted elsewhere, were unique to Sherwood). The branches and leaves of the trees stretched out, tangling with the branches of the tree that sat in the center of the village, filtering the sunlight through their leaves. A large gate made of the same thorny vines, the only way in or out, stood open, revealing the inside.


    Two men I vaguely recognized as members of Robin¡¯s band, the group of people who worked under the rebellion, were chatting by the gate as we approached the village.


    ¡°Hey Will!¡± one of the men called, waving. ¡°There¡¯s a representative from the committee and some others here visiting, so stay sharp.¡±


    Will paused as we reached the village threshold. ¡°Really? Why?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± the other man shrugged. ¡°Robin¡¯s in the meeting hall with them now. Told us to warn you.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Will said, continuing on. I followed close behind.


    I¡¯m so ready for a hot shower and normal clothes. Though it is oddly quiet around here, so I might want to be quick about it.


    The main section, which contained the dining hall, the meeting hall, and a stretch of several campfires surrounded by logs, stumps, and rocks that acted as chairs, was eerily empty. From here I could just see into the three other sections of the village, blocked off by smooth vine walls except for a large archway each. And while I could see several villagers working in section used for farming and livestock, and a handful of Robin¡¯s Band practicing in the smallest section, which we used for training and storage, I saw no one in the heart of the village, the section that held all the little houses, workshops, and other miscellaneous buildings.


    ¡°I¡¯m going straight in,¡± Will said. ¡°Go home and stay there. No spying.¡±


    I sighed. ¡°Yes, fine. I¡¯ll stay. Probably.¡±


    Will pinched the bridge of his nose as he continued to the meeting hall, the largest and most multi-purposed building in the village.


    ¡°Robin¡¯s going to kill me.¡± he muttered just loud enough for me to hear him.


    I turned off and stepped into the heart of the village, winding my way through the rows of little cottages and past the building that held the craftsmen¡¯s workshops.


    Something feels off about this whole thing. We¡¯re never visited by committee members other than our winter check-ins. They¡¯re way too busy managing all the different rebel groups and missions. And they brought a group?


    I shook my head as I reached the cottage. I would have to figure that out later. First, I needed to get the dirt and leaves out of my hair.

 Chapter 3

    Chatter swirled around me, echoing softly off the dining hall¡¯s stone walls. I wasn¡¯t paying attention to any of it.


    It¡¯s been two hours since we got back, and nothing.


    I pushed my cold mashed potatoes back and forth, my mind swirling. Were we going to be given another mission? Or did something happen in the capitol?


    I should be there in that meeting, not sitting around!


    The dining hall¡¯s door burst open, hitting the stone wall with a bang. I jumped in surprise, my heart leaping into my throat.


    ¡°Wren? Are you here?¡± Millie, Little John¡¯s wife and Much¡¯s twin, called.


    The dining hall fell silent.


    I stood and ran to the door, abandoning my half-eaten dinner. ¡°What do you need?¡±


    Millie grabbed my wrist, pulling me out of the dining hall. ¡°How fast can you get into something presentable?¡±


    I looked down at my clothes, a simple green dress and soft leather ankle boots that were only a bit worn. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    Millie looked back at me as she dragged me toward the meeting hall. ¡°You keep a set of gear in the back room right? That will have to do.¡±


    We climbed the steps into the meeting hall, Millie nodding to the men posted as guards as we entered the building.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± I asked, keeping my voice low as Millie dragged me through the halls.


    ¡°A representative from the Freedom Council and Underground are here,¡± Millie said. ¡°Robin needs you to make a good impression.¡±


    Underground? The infamous rebel spy band from the capitol?


    We stopped in front of the back room, a room us active members stored gear and supplies in.


    ¡°Be fast,¡± Millie said as I opened the door.


    I stepped in the room, flicking the light on as I closed the door. It took only a minute to locate my locker among the many lining the walls. My heart pounded in my chest and I felt faintly sick as I pulled out my gear.


    I changed quickly into the gear I wore when working in the forest: a forest green top and matching wrap skirt that hid the brown leggings I wore underneath. I added a cloak, a belt that held several small pouches and small sheathed knives, sturdy leather boots, and leather fingerless gloves. I tied the sheaths of my two larger daggers to my belt, then grabbed a hair tie and stepped out of the room.


    ¡°Why is Underground here?¡± I asked as Millie set off once more, following close behind as I braided my hair.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Millie shook her head, not looking at me.


    My palms were slick with sweat as I finished braiding my hair.


    We turned a corner, pausing outside the doors of the king¡¯s-room, our nicest meeting space. Little John stood guard at the double doors, his tall frame casting a shadow on the hallway and his expression menacing.


    ¡°That bad?¡± I asked.


    He nodded once, stiffly, and I could almost hear his teeth grinding.


    That can¡¯t be good. He¡¯s usually the calmest guy here.


    ¡°Act the part,¡± Millie whispered as Little John rapped on the door. ¡°Show no weaknesses.¡±


    ¡°Enter,¡± Robin called, his voice muffled by the thick door.


    Little John pulled open the door for us. I straightened, settling into the role of rebel spy.


    The meeting room was silent as I stepped inside, my footsteps silent and my gaze hard.


    Robin, Much, and Marian were sitting together at the round table. Will and Much stood in the back of the room, stiff and formal. Sammy, the Freedom Council representative that most often visited Sherwood, sat next to Robin. And the last four seats were taken by men dressed in dark colors, their expressions cold and almost lifeless.


    They were Underground members, known for ruthless methods and infamous success as spies dealing with the darker parts of the Capitol. Their very presence was stifling in the dimly lit room.


    I stopped in front of the only empty chair at the table, though I did not sit down or get too close to the chair. Eight pairs of eyes stared me down, picking me apart.


    I stared back, meeting the four Underground members¡¯ eyes. Adrenaline coursed through me as I itched to draw my daggers.


    ¡°Dressing your sister up in fancy gear doesn¡¯t make her a spy,¡± one of the men said to Robin.


    He was the leader, probably.


    ¡°A little thing,¡± another, the oldest one, said.


    His gaze softened a bit, and his voice didn¡¯t have any bite to it. I still glared at him.


    ¡°I have a hard time believing your claims,¡± the leader said to Robin as he sneered at me.


    He flicked his wrist in my direction, steel glinting in the low light.


    I moved on instinct, drawing my dagger in one swift motion as I stepped to the side. I fell into a fighting stance, daggers raised, as the thud of a blade hitting wood echoed in the silent room.


    I froze as my mind caught up with what was happening.


    He just tried to kill me. That throwing knife would have killed me if I hadn¡¯t moved.


    Hot anger burned in my chest as I stared down my would-be killer.


    It was a test. He risked my death to test me. Vile man!


    A slow grin crept across the man¡¯s face as he studied me with new interest.


    A chill crept up my spine as he shifted in his seat, resting his elbow on the table. A lion waiting to pounce.


    A clap echoed through the room.


    I straightened as Sammy clapped, smiling at me from across the table.


    ¡°What a show,¡± she said, smiling brightly. ¡°Does this calm your fears, Torin?¡±


    Torin still studied me with far too much interest. ¡°I suspect she hasn¡¯t been trained properly. Robin, she¡¯s a working dog not a pet to play with.¡±


    Marian put a hand on Robin¡¯s shoulder as he stiffened, his eyes burning with pure hatred.


    ¡°She was trained in the capitol,¡± she said sweetly, blinking with an innocent confusion that almost fooled even me. ¡°Is the academy not as good as they say?¡±


    Torin stopped studying me, focusing on Robin and Marian. ¡°This deal only benefits you. I lose nothing by leaving now. And that girl is useless.¡±


    Thunk!

 Chapter 4

    I blinked as I held a small throwing knife up, aimed and ready to release. A second knife was embedded into the wall a few feet behind Torin. Blood started to seep out of a shallow cut on his neck.


    What¡­ how? Did I¡­?


    Everyone in the room turned to look at me. Robin¡¯s face was an odd mixture of pride and ashen fear as Torin touched his neck.


    He pulled his hand away, studying the crimson blood that coated his fingertips. He slowly brought his fingers to his mouth, his eyes resting on me as he licked the blood off. He blinked, and a wild light entered his eyes, like a predator preparing for a game of cat and mouse.


    ¡°The kitten does have claws, it seems. Perhaps I should buy you instead. With the right training, you might be deadly enough to be worth the trouble.¡±


    Robin began to stand, but Marian yanked him back into his seat.


    ¡°I believe Wren has proven herself,¡± Much said, folding his hands in front of him and doing his best to look diplomatic. ¡°Will you agree to our deal?¡±


    Torin grinned widely, his gaze still resting on me, freezing me to the spot. ¡°I accept your terms.¡±


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Much said, pushing a packet of papers and a pen to Torin. ¡°Do you know who you will be sending?¡±


    Torin signed the papers, gripping the pen like it was a dagger he could kill me with. ¡°Yes, I believe he will do nicely for you.¡±


    Robin nodded stiffly. ¡°It was a pleasure working with you and your band. If that is all, I suggest we convene for dinner.¡±


    The group at the table stood, and Torin spun on his heels and marched to the door. As he grasped the door handle, he turned to look back at me, then at Robin.


    ¡°You keep him until I call him back,¡± he commanded.


    Robin tilted his head forward in a slight nod. ¡°Of course.¡±


    Torin swung the door open and stalked out of the room, the other Underground rebels and Sammy close behind him.


    I sank to the floor as Little John slipped inside the room, closing the door behind him. My daggers fell from my shaking hands, and my head pounded as all my strength leaked out of me.


    That was awful.


    Robin rubbed his forehead as he rested his hands on the table, hanging his head. ¡°He just gave us a problem child, didn¡¯t he?¡±


    Marian laughed, wrapping an arm around her husband. ¡°Probably.¡±


    Problem child? Keep him until he¡¯s called back?The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    My head shot up as the conversation clicked in my mind. ¡°We traded members with Underground?¡±


    Robin sighed, then straightened, stretching. ¡°More like rented a member of the Underground.¡±


    ¡°You need a partner, Wren,¡± Marian said, yawning. ¡°Someone competent enough to keep you out of trouble.¡±


    ¡°I do not need another babysitter!¡± I stood, sheathing my daggers. ¡°I can handle myself! And why didn¡¯t you tell me sooner? Why the Underground of all rebel groups?¡±


    ¡°No one else offered,¡± Robin said, his voice harsh as he glared down at me. ¡°You will get along with your new partner. You will train with them well and give it your all. And you will do it without complaining.¡±


    I shook with anger, tears pricking my eyes. I blinked them away and opened my mouth to speak. The words wouldn¡¯t form.


    How dare he order me around like a little child! I¡¯m not ten anymore, not a child like when we first came to Sherwood. I can take care of myself!


    ¡°You are relieved of your spying duties until you and your partner can work together,¡± Robin said, his voice and eyes softening. ¡°Half-day regular duty. I expect you to use the other half of the day training with your partner.¡±


    I nodded slowly, the anger leaking out of me like a balloon.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you go back home and get some rest,¡± Marian said. ¡°You had a long day, Wren. We¡¯ll be back late, sorry.¡±


    I nodded and turned, making my way out of the meeting hall. I could sense Will following me, though he kept his distance.


    Another babysitter. Robin can¡¯t even trust me to get home by myself, I suppose.


    The smell of bonfires greeted me when I stepped outside. They had lit fired in the three large firepits across from the cafeteria. People gathered around them and chatted. Some danced around the farthest one. I could just barely hear the soft melody of our resident musician Alan-A-Dale¡¯s lute.


    A love song, I think. Maybe a tragedy?


    I shook my head and headed into the dimly lit heart of the village. I wound my way through the mazes of houses, climbing up the steps of mine when I finally reached it.


    I turned to see if Will was still following me. He was. Worse, he was watching me from across the street, from Little John and Millie¡¯s front porch.


    I rolled my eyes and entered the house, closing the door firmly behind me.


    ***


    I blinked, the bright moonlight dazzling in the dark forest. I was back on the strange path, but not where I had been last time. The dark blue flowering vines still wrapped around the trees of sherwood, and glowing green crystals still jutted out of the earth and the trees. But the fey¡¯s flute was louder and clearer, like the fey playing it was just up ahead. I wasn¡¯t at the beginning of the path anymore, I was in the middle, the path stretching on behind me and in front of me.


    The woman approached, her moss green skin, long pointed ears, green-blue eyes, and dazzling white hair the same as before. She wore a different dress, a gown made of thousands of tiny blue and pink flower petals. She also wore jewelry made out of smooth stones, like the ones found in the bottoms of rivers. But her feet were still bare, stone anklets their only adornment.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I asked, my voice hushed by the immense power the woman radiated. ¡°Are you a fey?¡±


    The woman laughed. ¡°I am Sherwood.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I was once fay,¡± the woman explained, standing so close to me I could touch her. ¡°Now I am the forest. And I have chosen you to be something very dear to me.¡±


    My breath caught in my throat as I stiffened. Fey were unpredictable and dangerous beings. And one so powerful¡­


    The fey smiled, a gentle and serene expression. ¡°I have chosen you, sweetest of birdsongs, to be my daughter.¡±

 Chapter 5

    ¡°Stop scowling,¡± Robin said, glancing back at me.


    Marian, Robin, and I stood in front of Sherwood Village¡¯s gate, four of Robin¡¯s band acting as guards behind us.


    I shifted slightly, straightening the skirt of my dress. I had opted to wear a normal, comfortable dress despite Robin¡¯s insistence that I needed to be ¡°visually intimidating¡±.


    I was never going to be visually intimidating. It was what made me a good spie, despite my lack of experience. Though, to somewhat appease my brother, I wore my fingerless gloves and had tied a long brown leather belt around my waist. My sheathed daggers were fastened to the belt, resting at my side in easy reach.


    What¡¯s taking Will and the others so long?


    I strained my ears, trying to pick out the sounds of footsteps.


    ¡°Remember what we talked about,¡± Robin muttered as I finally heard the soft rustling of people in the forest.


    I grinned. ¡°The more he underestimates me, the better.¡±


    ¡°The longer you pretend to be weaker than him, the better,¡± Marian added, placing a hand on my shoulder. ¡°It¡¯s more fun that way.¡±


    I held back a laugh as the memory of Robin and Marian¡¯s wedding filled my mind. At the end of the celebrations, Marian challenged Robin to an archery contest. She was notoriously, hilariously bad. Robin, being subject to his wife¡¯s fierce competitive streak often, had purposely missed, hitting the outer edge of the target. Marian had hit the dead center, grinning the entire time.


    Marian squeezed my shoulder. I shook the memory away, turning my attention back to the matter at hand.


    Will stepped out of the trees, three other merry men behind him. In the midst of our people, dressed in earthy colors and practical clothing, stood a young man that looked not much older than I was, dressed in city clothes. He carried a backpack and a duffle bag, and had a blank, almost empty expression on his face.


    The young man stepped forward, bowing slightly to Robin. ¡°I am Ronan, a member of the Underground.¡±


    ¡°I am Robin, leader of Sherwood village and my Merry Men,¡± Robin said, stepping forward. ¡°You are the member we¡¯ve borrowed? How old are you?¡±


    Ronan nodded once, the movement sharp. ¡°Seventeen.¡±


    Only a year older than me.


    ¡°This is my wife, Marian, and Wren, my younger sister and your partner while here,¡± Robin said, gesturing to Marian, then me. ¡°I expect you to take good care of her.¡±


    Ronan nodded again. I rolled my eyes. Marian elbowed me in the ribs.


    ¡°Wren will show you the village and explain our operations. Ask her any questions you might have,¡± Marian said. ¡°Leave your bags here, and we will take them to your quarters.¡±


    Ronan nodded, dropping his bags in a heap. He glanced at me, then turned his attention to the gates, not saying a word.


    Unimpressed, are we?


    ¡°This is Sherwood Village,¡± I began, pasting a brittle smile on as I led him past our walls. ¡°The main section we¡¯re in is called the square, as it has the dining hall, the meeting hall, and the fire pits. It¡¯s where we meet, eat, and socialize as a village.¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    I pointed to each building mentioned as I set off along the curved wall of vines, ignoring the many curious people lingering around the fire pits or the dining hall¡¯s porch.


    ¡°This is the farm,¡± I said, pointing to the first gate we came across. ¡°We grow food and have some goats and chickens and a few horses. But mostly we get our food from the forest or the Grove, and sometimes buy ingredients in town.¡±


    I paused, waiting for the customary ¡°What¡¯s the Grove¡± question. Ronan stayed silent, studying the rows of corn and squash and beans just beyond the open gates. The farmers tending their fields had paused their work, clumping together and speaking in hushed tones.


    I cleared my throat and started walking again. ¡°Moving on.¡±


    I peered back at him as we kept walking. He still wore that blank expression, his eyes almost unfocused.


    Is he bored or unimpressed? Disinterested? Or does he consider this a hovel compared to his ¡°great and mighty¡± capitol city?


    ¡°Through that gate is the heart of the city,¡± I said, pointing across the square. ¡°All our housing and infrastructural buildings are there. It¡¯s the largest of the four sectors.¡±


    Ronan tipped his head forward in a slight, stiff nod, not looking at me. Instead, he looked out at the back porch of the meeting hall, where nearly a dozen residents of  Sherwood stood, unabashedly staring at Ronan and chatting to each other.


    ¡°Through here are our training grounds,¡± I said, pointing to the next gate as we approached it. ¡°And storage for all our gear and such.¡±


    ¡°You train there?¡±


    I paused, turning to look back at Ronan. ¡°Yes, I do.¡±


    ¡°Spar me.¡±


    Ronan stared me down, his eyes as blank and empty as ever, threatening to pull me into their darkness.


    ¡°Sure,¡± I said, my voice squeaking a little as I fought the urge to hunch under his scrutiny. ¡°What weapon?¡±


    ¡°Daggers,¡± Ronan said, his hand straying to his side. For the first time, I noticed a dagger at his side, the color of the sheath blending in with his pants.


    ¡°Right this way then,¡± I said as my palms began to grow slick with sweat.


    I led him through the gates, past the archery range and to one of the spaces set aside for sparring.


    Except for a few younger members of Robin¡¯s band working on their aim, and a pair sparring with staffs, the training grounds were empty. Everyone was busy patrolling or gossiping to practice, apparently.


    I picked a spot to spar, a large square marked with bright red string at ankle height.


    ¡°First blood wins,¡± Ronan said, settling into a fighting stance as he drew his daggers.


    I smiled at him, though I think it looked more like a grimace. ¡°Sure, ok.¡±


    How did I get myself into this situation? I¡¯m going to be eaten alive!


    I mirrored Ronan, bemoaning my life¡¯s choices and short reach as I unsheathed my daggers.


    ¡°Three, two, one,¡± Ronan said, his voice even and eerily calm.


    I leapt backwards, nearly tripping over my long skirt as Ronan lunged at me, dagger raised. My heart pounded in my chest as I used my shorter dagger to block his, bringing up the longer to attempt cutting his arm.


    Ronan stepped back, circling me like a wolf preparing to pounce. I moved with him, desperately trying to keep my back from him and keep him in sight.


    A small crowd was starting to form around us. The two sparring nearby, and all the archers that had been practicing. Some others too, I suspected. Silent bystanders to watch me be humiliated.


    I lunged at Ronan. Instantly I knew it was a mistake and tried to shift directions. I was too late.


    Ronan brought his blade up, using his longer arms to press the tip lightly against my chest.


    I froze, breath shaking as the metal glinted off the afternoon sun. The silence was deafening.


    Ronan sheathed his dagger. I expected him to turn away from me. Perhaps scoff at my easy defeat?


    Instead he rolled his shoulders back, his posture relaxing.


    The small crowd dispersed, grumbling to each other as they returned to their previous activities.


    ¡°I thought they would give us a show.¡±


    ¡°Wren? A show? Ha!¡±


    ¡°Too timid for her own good.¡±


    ¡°Good aim though. But with Robin as her brother¡­¡±


    I ignored the chatter as I sheathed my daggers, searching for something to say.


    ¡°Where am I staying?¡± Ronan asked, the flat tone of his voice breaking the silence.


    ¡°Oh, with Little John and his wife, Millie. I¡¯ll walk you over. They live next door to Robin, Marian, and I.¡±

 Chapter 6

    I groaned as a sharp chill bit into me. I pried my eyes open, my eyelashes crusted with sleep.


    For a brief, mind-tilting moment I could not remember where I was or what was happening. A gust of wind blew through my open bedroom window, snapping me back to reality.


    I rolled onto my side, blinking the bleariness from my eyes as I looked at the clock that sat on my desk.


    "3:00 in the morning?" I grumbled to myself, sitting up and glaring at my window.


    Ronan had disappeared into his room the second he was able. I had taken the opportunity to take a nap, my mind and body tired from both my last mission and the events that followed. What was supposed to be a quick rest had been much longer than I expected.


    I stood up and pulled back my drawn curtain a bit, moving to close the window. I froze, however, when I saw Ronan''s window open.


    His window and my window faced each other, only a few yards apart, and were placed low enough you could climb out without injury.


    Even in the faint light I could see the weariness and the black circles under his eyes. More surprisingly, he didn''t seem to notice me. Instead, he leaned heavily against the windowsill, gripping the wood with a white-knuckled grasp.


    He looks miserable. Wait, what is he even doing up?


    I opened my curtain the rest of the way. Ronan looked up at the sound, stiffening. Instantly his exhaustion disappeared into his customary blank, empty expression and stiff stance.


    "Still up or just woke up?" I asked, keeping my voice soft so it wouldn''t carry and disturb the neighbors.


    Ronan blinked at me, a hint of confusion in his eyes and the tilt of his slight frown. "What?"


    "I just woke up," I offered. "A nap taken too seriously, I''m afraid."


    The confusion cleared from Ronan''s expression. "I see. I also just woke up."


    Two sentences? He must be tired. I had a hard time getting one out of him earlier. He does look miserable though.


    "Want to go on a nighttime patrol?" I asked, the words coming out before I could consider them.


    I froze when I realized what I had asked. Ronan wasn''t really one of Robin''s band. He wasn''t even trained to be in the forest. He was on loan from the Capitol, a place no sane person would walk at night.


    No smart person would say yes to that.


    "It''s very safe," I belatedly added. "There''s a little camp in the forest the night guard uses, we can visit with them."


    Ronan stared at me, the hint of a strange look in his eyes. After a long pause he tilted his head in a small, sharp nod.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    "Give me a minute to get ready," I said. "I''ll meet you outside in a few minutes."


    I closed the window and drew the curtain, scuttling about my room for my cloak and gear, which had been discarded in a pile on my floor. The memory of the icy wind still fresh in my mind, I slipped on a pair of warm leggings under my rumpled skirt before tugging on my boots. I also shoved a pair of wool gloves into my dress pocket before grabbing the pack I always took with me on forest treks. A scribbled out note for Robin and Marian, which I pinned to their door on my way out of the house, and I was slipping out the front door and ghosting down the porch.


    Ronan was waiting for me, scanning the quiet cluster of houses and empty street.


    I started for the gate, Ronan close behind. The moon, full and round, illuminated the sleeping village. The air was brisk and cool, so different from the warm early-summer days.


    As we approached the gate, guarded by two of Robin''s band, Ronan tensed. He stuck even closer to me, eyeing the gate guards, then me.


    I rolled my eyes and waved at the guards, who saw us and waved back before opening one side of the gates enough for us to slip through.


    I smiled at them as we approached. "Thanks."


    We exited the village, the gate closing behind us, and set off into the forest.


    I could tell Ronan was trying to be quiet. But, maybe because of his exhaustion or perhaps his lack of experience in a forest, he was failing miserably.


    No matter. This isn''t a stealth mission. I''m just getting him out of the village for a bit.


    I led us deeper into the forest, following familiar paths. The only sounds around us were the rustling of leaves and Ronan''s clumsy footsteps. Everything else in the forest was asleep.


    Soon I spotted the soft glow of a campfire through the trees, and heard voices drifting on the breeze.


    We came to a clearing ringed by evergreen trees. A large boulder sat near the center, its smooth surface curved, forming a cave-like hollow lined in a tarp. A man sat at the edge of it, cradling a steaming mug. A fire pit sat next in front of the little cave, holding a fire just big enough to light the space. A log and two large stones sat around it, containing a man with a lyre and a woman knitting. A kettle and several empty mugs sat on a small cloth at the woman''s feet, and several blankets were draped over one of the stone seats.


    The man with the lyre, Alan-A-Dale, waved to us.


    "What brings you two so deep into the forest, so late at night?" he teased. "Have you finally found a sweetheart Wren? I shall have to write a sonnet for the occasion."


    I rolled my eyes and sat on one of the stone seats.


    "Robin ''ll kill any poor sap trying to woo his baby sister," the other man, Robert, said.


    I didn''t know Robert well, so I didn''t bother to correct him. Robin would love to get me a boyfriend, so I would stop complaining about Will stalking me on Robin''s behalf.


    The woman, Elspeth, chuckled and looked up from her knitting. "Is this your new partner, Wren?"


    I nodded as Ronan took a seat by Robert. "Everyone, this is Ronan. Ronan, this is Allan-A-Dale, his wife Elspeth, and Robert."


    I gestured to each person in turn, then leaned down and poured a mug of the steaming liquid. It smelled of herbs and berries found in Sherwood, a tea similar to those made by fey according to legend.


    The silence stretched on, awkward.


    What do we talk about? Did we interrupt an important conversation? We should be chatting by now. It''s never this bad when new members join.


    "You should tell Ronan some stories about Robin and Sherwood," I said.


    When all else failed, telling Allan to tell a story would at least make him happy.


    "Oh, a splendid idea!" Allan crowed. "I shall tell you the tale of the golden arrow. You see, Nottingham has an annual archery contest, and one year the prize was a golden arrow. It was a trap by the sheriff of Nottingham, and we all knew it...

 Chapter 7

    I meandered along the now familiar path, admiring the glow of the flowering vines and crystals. The trees were thinning, a soft breeze rustling their leaves. Moonlight filtered through their branches, casting patterns on the dirt and tree bark. The soft lilt of a flute rang clear through the forest, mixing with the sounds of running water.


    I paused as the trees stopped, a large clearing stretching out before me. A small waterfall and river cut across the space, the long grasses that surrounded it waving in the breeze. A large boulder was nestled among them, perched beside the bank. The fey I had met earlier sat on this boulder as if it was a throne. On her head was a crown made of living branches and flowering vines and smooth, glittering river rocks. In one hand she held a wooden staff, the wood smooth like driftwood, river rocks embedded into every knot and crevice as if they themselves were part of the wood. A flowering vine of white lilies wrapped around the staff, bits of glowing crystal embedded into the vines. In her other hand she held an orb of blue crystal covered in cracks and chips. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ¡°Come, Wren. Come, Ronan,¡± the fey said, her voice soft and indulging.


    I glanced past the fey, spotting Ronan as he emerged from the forest. I was not sure why he was present in this strange dream, but I did not seem to care. Instead I made my way to the fey, as Ronan did.


    When we approached the stone, the fey set her staff and crystal aside. She reached out her hands, one toward each of us. Without thinking, I took her hand in mine. Ronan did the same.


    ¡°You two must work together,¡± the fey said, looking at Ronan, then me. ¡°The path I have set you both on is not for the faint of heart. For the gifts I am about to give you are not understood by your kind any longer. But I will watch over you, as any mother ought to.¡±


    The fey closed her eyes as a warmth slammed into me through her hand, coursing through my body. I grimaced as the sensation settled over me, clouding my mind and my senses.


    ¡°Go forth with great confidence,¡± the fey said. ¡°For you are children of Sherwood.¡±

 Chapter 8

    I rubbed my eyes as the sun started to tint the sky a vivid orange above the trees. A soft wind stirred the damp summer air.


    The fire had gone out, leaving nothing but coals and ash. The forest was quiet, no sounds of any patrol.


    I straightened and stretched, yawning. I had fallen asleep sitting on the ground, leaning against the stone seat I had sat on the night before, wrapped in one of the blankets I had brought. It was a metallic one that folded up small and crinkled with every move like food wrappers. Ronan was curled into a ball across from me, in the little cave. He had covered himself in his blanket, the same kind as mine.


    I must have fallen asleep after him. Allan and Elspeth probably left not long after, assuming people would continue to pass through the camp. And perhaps they did, and I had not woken up.


    It''s still early morning. We should have plenty of time to get back, clean up, and go to breakfast.


    I glanced back at Ronan. He resembled a shiny silver lump more than a person. If I studied him carefully, though, I could see the blanket rise and fall with his breaths.


    If he''s sleeping peacefully, I probably shouldn''t wake him up. I can wait a while longer.


    I let my gaze settle on Ronan, eyes half closed, and tried to pick out the sound of his breathing through the rustle of his blanket. A training exercise, to help differentiate sounds in chaotic and loud areas.


    The small sounds seemed to grow louder as I focused on them, filling my ears. As I listened, I could hear his breaths grow faster, the blanket rustling more. The clearing seemed to grow darker with each passing second as my heart beat in my ears. Everything was too sharp, too strong, too loud. I wanted to clap my hands over my ears, to cover my face as the lingering scent of campfire smoke burned my nostrils and made my eyes water. But I couldn''t move, couldn''t speak. Only my mind remained active as darkness and shadows threatened to swallow me. Was I under attack? Going crazy?


    I jumped as Ronan sat up straight, throwing the blanket away from him. There was a wild light in his eyes as he gasped for air, as if he had been running hard. His hair stuck out in all directions, and lines had been pressed into his cheek from laying partially under a rumpled blanket.


    My mind seemed to retreat as I stood, the sounds quieting, the color returning to my vision. The motion felt somehow both strange and natural. Like my mind didn''t know what I was doing, but something else in me did.


    The last of the shadows dispersed. Ronan stared at me, a dazed expression in his eyes.


    I stepped toward him, around the fire pit. A weed growing near where I stood stretched out. It wrapped around my feet, caressing my ankles.


    I jumped back, a screech of shock leaving me before I could think.


    What was that?


    The trees rustled, as if laughing at me.


    There was no wind. The trees were rustling without any wind.


    We need to leave.


    The realization slammed into me, every warning signal in my mind screaming as I turned and grabbed my bag and blanket. Ronan stood, his blanket in hand, staring at the trees.


    Moss crept over the boulder, reaching out to touch him.


    "We''re leaving now," I said, heart pounding in my ears as I hopped over the fire pit and grabbed Ronan''s arm.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    I dragged Ronan  forward. He stumbled back when the grass began to wrap around his feet, then launched into action. We darted into the forest.


    It''s a mile and a half hike back to the village. With the forest like this though...


    "We''ll go through a fairy circle," I decided.


    "What?" Ronan asked, staring at me as if I was crazy.


    I made a sharp turn, Ronan practically stepping on my heels as I slowed to a brisk walk. Branches of trees and bushes alike reached out, brushing against us. Ferns and other forest floor vegetation rubbed against our ankles, preventing me from running.


    "You took one to the camp," I pointed out, whacking a branch that got near my face.


    Ronan muttered something under his breath, the words lost in the rustle of plants. "With a guide that was very well trained and knowledgeable."


    I glared at Ronan as we reached the fairy circle, the mushrooms and flowers that made it up stretching toward us as we grew closer.


    "Don''t make a sound and don''t let go of my hand."


    "Don''t we need iron or something?"


    "Not if they don''t hear us."


    I grabbed Ronan''s hand and stepped into the fairy circle, yanking him across the threshold when he hesitated, a mulish expression on his face.


    The ground fell away beneath us, and we were falling. Small lights floated around us, chattering softly to each other in a strange, twisted tongue.


    I closed my eyes, letting the invisible paths around us brush against my mind until I found the one I wanted. When I did, I latched onto it.


    We slid down the path, landing with a jolt that made my teeth ache. The fay realm faded away, revealing Sherwood once more.


    I dragged Ronan out of the fairy circle, then dropped his hand and set off into the woods.


    "Where are we?" Ronan asked as he followed me.


    "The closest fairy circle to Sherwood. The one they took you through."


    I burst out of the forest, approaching the walls of Sherwood Village. The gates had been propped open with large stones the guards used as chairs as they chatted away.


    I glanced behind me. The branches, the ferns, the grasses reached out at Ronan and me. I could almost hear their cries through the rustling and creaking.


    Ronan took off toward the gate. I followed close behind, letting him lead me across the square, still quiet in the early morning.


    We stopped at one of the campfires. I collapsed on one of the log benches, letting my bag fall to the ground with a thump.


    Ronan paced back and forth on the other side of the fire pit, glancing nervously at the gate and the forest beyond.


    "What was that?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.


    I took a deep, shaking breath as I rubbed my temples. "I don''t know. Maybe¡ª"


    "Have you always had that scar on your face?"


    I frowned up at Ronan, who had stopped pacing. "What scar? Like yours?"


    "What are you talking about?"


    "You have a scar on the right side of your face," I said slowly, "a scar that''s very faint, but looks like the cycles of the moon. It starts a bit above your ear, right next to your hairline, and curves down, to just below your ear."


    A scar I don''t remember noticing before now...


    Ronan touched the right side of his face, then pulled his hair back so I could see his ear clearly.


    My eyes widened as I studied the tip of his ear, which came to a small but definite point.


    Ronan felt the tip of his ear, his face turning ashen when he felt the point.


    I dug through the pockets of my bag, fishing out a small compact mirror and opening it with a snap. I angled it to look at my own right ear, pulling my hair back to see. A faint scar, like Ronan''s, wrapped around my ear in a half-circle. A vine with eight leaves, simplistic as Ronan''s scar, but definitely very new. With shaking hands, I pulled my hair back farther and tilted my head. My ear also had a small but definite point.


    I dropped the mirror, which snapped closed with an almost painful clack when it hit the dirt.


    "What... How?" I asked, my voice breathy and unsteady.


    The world seemed to fall away from me, as if I was floating, untethered.


    "What is happening to us?" Ronan asked as he picked up the mirror I had dropped and studied his reflection.


    "Only one kind of creature has pointed ears," I whispered, my mind whirling.


    "Who?" Ronan asked, too calm.


    "Fey."

 Chapter 9

    I touched the point of my ear, studying it in the mirror. My mind told me it was wrong, that it shouldn¡¯t exist. Just like the faint scarring that was visible when my hair was tucked behind my ear or pulled back in a braid.


    I wouldn¡¯t be able to hide this for long. Not the scar, not the ear, not the plants grasping at my ankles. Even now any vegetation in the forest leaned toward Ronan and me, reaching out to us like desperate hands of the earth.


    Ronan paced behind me, muttering under his breath, fists clenched. His anger rolled off him, filling my living room. It was dark, too dark. I had opened all the shutters, drawn all the curtains, and turned on all the lights. Still, the room was dimly lit as if evening, the lights casting a soft, faint glow.


    That fey had said she¡¯d given us gifts¡­ called us children of the forest¡­ could she have done something?


    I set my pocket mirror on the coffee table, curling up on the couch and watching Ronan pace.


    He was still muttering. I couldn¡¯t quite make out what he was saying. I leaned forward and focused on his voice, trying to pick out his words.


    ¡°Stupid forest. Stupid fey!¡±


    His voice boomed in my ears as if he was shouting into them. I jumped, shrinking back.


    Ronan paused his mutterings and glanced at me.


    ¡°What?¡± he asked, his voice flat and blissfully normal in volume.


    ¡°Nothing, nothing!¡± I forced a smile, waving him off. ¡°Please, continue.¡±


    Ronan sighed and collapsed into an armchair across from me. ¡°There¡¯s no point. This wretched forest has cursed me. I am doomed.¡±


    ¡°So melodramatic,¡± I muttered, rolling my eyes.


    Ronan glared at me, his eyes darkening.


    The desperate need for normal slammed into me. Tears pricked my eyes as I clenched my fists. I just wanted things to go back to normal. I did not want dreams about fey or strange pointed ears or a new partner. I just wanted what had been, the steady rhythm of day-to-day life in Sherwood. To chat with the other villagers, to help in the kitchens, to practice my spying on Robin and train with Will and Marian.


    I stood, slipping out of the living room, into my bedroom, closing the door firmly behind me.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Ronan asked, a tired edge to his voice.


    I wiggled out of the rumpled dress I had worn to dinner the night before, changing into a slim fitting navy blue top with long sleeves. I slipped a matching skirt over my brown leggings, then fastened my belt around my waist. I opened my door as I checked my equipment, slipping on my leather fingerless gloves as I crossed the room.


    ¡°I¡¯m off,¡± I said, opening the front door.


    ***


    Ronan stalked through the training grounds, a dark expression on his face. A shadow seemed to loom over him, darkening the space around him.


    I ignored his brooding.


    He can act like such a child when the moment arises. He was the one who asked to join me, not the other way around.


    No one paid any attention to us as we crossed over to the far end of the yard, sheltered behind a storage building. There were quite a few groups training, unlike yesterday, and they all knew what I was capable of.


    Ronan watched as I hopped up onto the wrap-around porch and stepped into the storage building. The space smelled like old wood and dust, filled with an assortment of practice equipment and archery supplies.


    I took a box from the shelves near the door and brought it outside, handing it to Ronan.


    ¡°A hatbox?¡± he asked, his eyes lightening slightly as curiosity got the better of him.


    I took the lid off, revealing the dozen compartments filled with all sorts of knickknacks and training tools. None of them were even the least bit dangerous. Various small trinkets like marbles and keys that unlocked nothing, a set of flashcards on a ring, and a small stopwatch were some prime examples.


    Ronan picked up a small cat figurine. ¡°What is this?¡±


    I met his eyes as I grabbed the box, twisting so I was close enough to snatch it from his hands as I ripped the hatbox from him.


    Ronan looked down at his hands, then at me. ¡°Pickpocketing?¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Practice makes perfect. It¡¯s best to do so when it¡¯s least expected. For realism.¡±


    I placed the figurine back into its compartment, my eye catching on a red marble. Robin had turned my pickpocketing lessons into a game for the entire band when I had first started my training. He had given them a single marble. If they could keep it for a full 24 hours, they won a favor from me. It was highly motivating.


    ¡°Oh?¡± Ronan said, a little too casually.


    I looked up just in time to see him draw his dagger.


    I dropped the box, hopping off the porch and drawing my own daggers, heart jumping into my throat.


    The blades clashed, the force of the blow jarring my teeth.


    This will hurt.


    I ducked, darting closer and ramming the hilt of my smaller dagger into his right arm.


    Ronan hissed and backed up slightly, before lunging at me again. I blocked again, then tried to dart closer and whack him in the side with the flat of my longer dagger.


    He twisted his knife, nearly knocking my smaller dagger from my hand as he thrust his forward, then rammed the hilt of his dagger into my stomach.


    I fell back, coughing, eyes watering.


    Somehow I had made him mad. Really mad. I could see the fury in his eyes, black as night. Even the space around us seemed to grow dark, as if it was dusk.


    I forced myself to stand, blocking three more of his blows. My arms ached from the impact, my heart pounding in my ears as I tried to land a blow.


    I missed, stumbled, and got the hilt of his blade rammed into my side for my troubles.


    I coughed again, darting back.


    It was no use. Ronan lunged at me, his knife coming at me too quick and too hard. I could barely block, let alone even attempt to attack. The fight seemed to stretch on endlessly. My lungs burned, my body growing slower, heavy with fatigue.


    At last I spotted an opening as he lunged for what seemed the thousandth time. Shifting to the side, I rammed the hilt of my dagger into his wrist, the only place I could reach. He dropped it, stumbling back, blinking hard.


    I froze, gasping for breath as I sheathed my daggers and collapsed into a puddle on the dusty ground. A lump formed in my throat, the relief swelling inside me.


    Ronan rubbed at his eyes, his breath shaky. He blinked, then looked around wildly, wobbling on his feet. Strangely, the darkness that had followed him all day began to lighten.


    Something wasn¡¯t right.


    I had noticed it all day, the darkness that gathered around him like a cloak of shadows. And his eyes¡­ I could see now that a cloud of soft grey covered them, as if he was blind. A sense of panic filled his every move. A panic that seemed unnatural given the situation.


    Dreams of fey. A single pointed ear, with decorative scarring. A cloak of shadows that seemed to follow Ronan around.


    It couldn¡¯t possibly be¡­ no, that was ridiculous. Ronan couldn¡¯t have magic, could he? Human magic wasn¡¯t real. It was the stuff of legends, a fairy tale. Humans couldn¡¯t harness any sort of magic. Only fey could, and only in their realm.


    Ronan stumbled forward, then fell to his hands and knees and wretched. I pulled myself to my feet and stepped forward, crouching beside him.


    I patted his back, feeling immensely awkward. ¡°You¡¯re fine. It¡¯s fine.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t see,¡± he said, his voice low, shaky, and filled with pure terror that chilled me to the bone.


    Maybe I have it all wrong. Maybe it¡¯s all my imagination. Maybe Ronan has an illness of the mind from his time in the capitol.


    I knew the mind could do strange things when past memories came up. Ronan would not be the first who struggled with a painful past that afflicted the mind, though he was the first I had heard who couldn¡¯t see because of it. But¡­


    I felt his terror pressing in on me, weighing me down. It settled in me, in a spot next to my heart, and I could tell it was not my emotions, but his.


    I grabbed Ronan¡¯s blade from where it lay on the ground, shoved it in its sheath at his side, and stood. I took Ronan by the wrist and pulled him up, practically dragging him across the training yards. He stumbled, and I could feel him shaking from the grasp I had on his wrist.


    Home. I need to get back. I need to look at some of the old books, and talk to Friar Tuck.


    This was too big to handle alone. I needed to figure out what to do and make a plan. Ronan collapsing in the village wouldn¡¯t help anything.


    We made it to the porch steps of Little John and Millie¡¯s house before Ronan collapsed against me, breathing hard. I could feel his heart pounding in his chest too hard, and his face was pale and a little green.


    ¡°Retch on me and I will kill you,¡± I warned him as I stumbled forward.


    ¡°Noted,¡± Ronan gasped.


    We struggled up the steps and into the house. I dropped him onto the sofa, positioned only a few feet away from the front door. Ronan had a slim build, and his height was toward the lower end of average, but he still weighed a good thirty pounds more than me, too heavy to carry far.


    I sat on the coffee table, breathing hard.


    Ronan managed to kick off his shoes, curling up into a ball on the couch, still shaking.


    I reached down and lifted a section of the coffee table¡¯s top up, revealing a compartment filled with blankets underneath. I grabbed the first one and threw it over Ronan.


    Ronan¡¯s eyes closed, and I could feel when he lost consciousness. The panic that had settled into my chest lifted as his eyes closed, replaced with a numbing calm.


    I stood, then turned and left. I had a lot of thinking and planning to do, and a letter to write.


    As I climbed down the stairs of Little John and Millie¡¯s house, making my way to my own next door, I touched the tip of my pointed ear.


    If Ronan has human magic because of the dreams and ear, do I?


    I gritted my teeth. I really hoped I was wrong about this.

 Chapter 10

    I paced the length of my room, studying my book of mythology. No matter how many times I looked at it, the words wouldn¡¯t change.


    Nearly every story I had read about humans that could use magic had two things in common. The first was a mark. The second was a price.


    Sarcas, tattoos, or birthmarks in unusual patterns and shapes. Eyes of mismatched or unusual colors. Hair with shocking color like the fey¡¯s, from a full head to a lone streak. And, in one story, a singular pointed ear decorated with scars shaped like the power the person possessed. As for the price¡­


    I looked down at my book, studying the passage once more. It told of a guardian that had erected a magical barrier around a castle that stopped time itself. The massive amount of power used had cost her dearly though. After casting the spell, she had collapsed and slept for a hundred years.


    The myths were full of prices to be paid just like that. I hadn¡¯t read about anything like what had happened to Ronan, but still¡­


    Ronan can¡¯t have used magic. Humans don¡¯t have magic. It¡¯s impossible!


    I had written a letter to Friar Tuck the second I had returned to my room, finishing just in time to send it off with one of the groups of villagers heading to the Grove. He was an expert on this sort of thing, having studied it extensively during his religious studies. If anyone knew what was going on, he would.


    I slammed the book shut and set it on my desk, on top of the pile of notes and lists I had made.


    I should just go to the Grove myself instead of sending letters back and forth. But I haven¡¯t seen Robin or Marian or anyone today, and I¡¯d need their permission to go.


    I heard the door open, then shut with a soft bang.


    ¡°Wren?¡±


    Perfect.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Robin¡¯s voice echoed through the house, cheery and light.


    I opened my door and stepped out of my room. ¡°Robin! There you are. Can I visit Friar Tuck at the Grove for a week or so?¡±


    Robin paused mid-step and stared at me, squinting at me with a look of bewilderment comparable to if my skin had turned sparkly blue before his eyes.


    ¡°You hate the Grove,¡± he said slowly.


    ¡°I thought it would be a good place for Ronan and I to train,¡± I said, smiling and doing my best to look happy and cheerful.


    I guess I will have to take Ronan with me after all. I was hoping to leave him behind.


    Robin rubbed at his forehead. ¡°What did you do this time?¡±


    My act wasn¡¯t working. But I couldn¡¯t very well tell him the truth. Not when I didn¡¯t have all the facts.


    ¡°Whatever do you mean?¡±


    Robin sighed and walked across the living room, passing me as he entered his and Marian¡¯s room.


    ¡°If you really want to go to the Grove, you may.¡± he said as he dug through a drawer in his dresser. ¡°Friar Tuck did send me a letter today asking for some help for an upcoming event. I was going to send some of the trainees, but if you want to go¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave tomorrow morning!¡± I said, grinning. ¡°Thank you!¡±


    ¡°Now, can you help me find my packet of bowstrings?¡± Robin asked, closing the dresser drawer he had rifled through and opening the one below it. ¡°Marian hid it after I beat her in archery at practice this morning.¡±


    ***


    I watched the plant life of the forest closely as Ronan and I made our way through Sherwood. Thankfully, the foliage was acting as it should. It was so convincing, I could almost convince myself that the morning before had never happened. Almost.


    I reached up and touched the tip of my pointed ear, the shape so strange and foreign under my fingertips it seemed almost fake.


    I looked back at Ronan. He turned his head, not meeting my eyes, his face cold and blank as it was before.


    He was embarrassed about collapsing. I knew it somehow, though I couldn¡¯t read the expression on his face. However, I didn¡¯t know how to fix the situation.


    I needed Ronan to at least tolerate me. I was stuck with him for who knows how long, and I couldn¡¯t have a lack of teamwork ruin a mission. Plus, it would be easier to figure out the pointed ears thing if he was more engaged.


    At least he won¡¯t ask questions I don¡¯t want to answer if he¡¯s not talking to me.


    I spotted the fairy circle through the trees, and picked up my pace.

 Chapter 11

    Ronan and I stood at the edge of the fairy circle.


    Do I really want to do this?


    The first stirrings of doubt settled in the pit of my stomach. It had been years since I¡¯d stayed in the Grove for more than a few hours at a time, and for good reason.


    ¡°What¡¯s the death rate?¡± Ronan asked.


    ¡°What?¡± I squinted at Ronan with confusion.


    Ronan nudged a faintly glowing rock on the fairy ring with his foot. ¡°How often do people die in these?¡±


    ¡°Four, maybe five people?¡±


    ¡°Four or five a month? A year?¡±


    Ronan crossed his arms over his chest, a vaguely annoyed expression on his face.


    ¡°Four or five in the last ten years. If it was more than an occasional accident, do you think we¡¯d use them so much?¡±


    Ronan¡¯s posture relaxed slightly. ¡°So the rumors aren¡¯t true?¡±


    ¡°That these things are death traps? If you don¡¯t know how to travel through them, they can be.¡±


    I pulled a thin iron bar the length of my finger from my pocket and handed it to Ronan.


    ¡°We sew iron bars and buttons like this into everyone¡¯s clothes to dispel fey charms,¡± I explained, holding out my sleeve so he could see the little button detaining. ¡°And we follow the rules of the fey, and we are residents of Sherwood so we have the forest¡¯s protection.¡±


    Ronan nodded slowly. ¡°Rules of the fey¡­ don¡¯t eat their food, don¡¯t tell them your name, and don¡¯t step into their fairy circles?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t go into their fairy circles without permission, and be quiet when you do. I have permission.¡±


    I held out my hand. Ronan hesitated, then took it in his, taking a deep breath.


    Is he scared?


    I sighed and rolled my eyes. ¡°Just don¡¯t scream.¡±


    I stepped into the fairy circle, pulling Ronan with me. The ground fell away, and we were falling.


    I blinked, and glowing roots of every color of the earth appeared, twisting and turning into thousands of paths. Glowing orbs floated about the darkness between, my mind¡¯s representation of the fey.


    I reached out with my mind, sorting through the paths by feel.


    There!


    I focused on the cool, shimmery blue path that led to the Grove. That focus tilted our fall, carrying us over miles and miles of land in mere seconds.


    I blinked and my feet hit the ground. The darkness faded, and we were standing in a fairy ring once more.


    I stepped out of the fairy ring, dragging Ronan behind me. He stumbled forward, gripping my hand as if it was his only grasp on sanity.


    ¡°See? Perfectly safe. You can let go of my hand now,¡± I said, glancing back at him.


    Ronan dropped my hand, and I shook it out, wiping my whitened fingertips on my skirt.


    ¡°This is the Grove?¡± he asked, shaking his head as he looked around the forest.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    ¡°Not quite. It¡¯s right through these trees.¡±


    I led Ronan though a short patch of forest, stepping out into a massive clearing.


    A town sprawled out before us, a cluster of homes and shops and buildings made of smooth stone and the reddish wood of Sherwood trees. Farms and pasture land stretched to the east, while the forest crept up to the side of the west. Beyond the little town sunlight glinted off the massive lake that stretched beyond like the sea, the far-off mountains just visible in the distance.


    Once it had been one of my favorite parts of Sherwood. It was extremely remote, deep in the very heart of the forest. A sanctuary by the sea.


    I took a deep breath. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with. ¡±


    We followed a dirt road down through the fields, making our way to the town. Farmers working in the summer sun waved to us, and a few shouted greetings over their potato plants and wheat stalks.


    The air changed when we stepped into the town. People stared at us through the windows of their cottages, or stopped in the streets. Shop owners and street vendors paused their sales as we passed. Even the cats that roamed the town paused to gawk at the unusual sight.


    ¡°Are the townsfolk not fond of outsiders?¡± Ronan said, his voice low.


    I glanced at him, noticing the darkening space around him. ¡°They aren¡¯t paying any attention to you.¡±


    An all-too familiar face exited from a house just beyond us.


    I stood straighter, fighting the urge to flee.


    Margaretta flounced toward us, her perfect chocolate-brown ringlets and fashionable full skirts bouncing with each step. Despite the dirt road, her bright yellow clothing, trimmed in white lace no less, and heeled boots were spotless. She wore kid gloves, a fan dangling on a loop on her right wrist, and held a white lacy parasol over her left shoulder, shading her tan skin. A proper lady, the child of one of several minor noble families that presided in the Grove.


    ¡°Wren Hood, is that you?¡± she asked with a smile, her voice loud and shrill like an off-tune flute. ¡°I never see you in town!¡±


    Everyone was watching us now. I could feel their eyes bore into me.


    ¡°Hello to you as well, Magatetta,¡± I said, forcing a smile.


    ¡°Did you finally tire of climbing trees and traipsing through the forest like a monkey with your brother? Please say yes, I am just dying to have another girl of class to gossip with. Emilia and Loretta are such bores after a while.¡±


    I gritted my teeth behind my smile. ¡°I am afraid I am here only temporarily.¡±


    ¡°Ah, pity. Still, you must have tea with me before you leave. I¡¯ll take you to the seamstress to order some proper clothes too. It will be such fun!¡± Margaretta clasped her hands together, somehow managing to not whack herself in the face with her parasol in the process. ¡°We had such fun before you went off to play rebel with the commoners.¡±


    ¡°I will see if I can find time in my schedule, however I am very busy and only here for a short time,¡± I said, stepping forward and to the side.


    She always acts as if my presence is a given, so there¡¯s no way If I can make a graceful exit now by walking away¡­


    Margaretta grabbed my wrist. ¡°Come now! At least tell my parents you have arrived!¡±


    I let Margaretta pull me into her house, closing the door behind me before Ronan could think to follow.


    It would be better if he wasn¡¯t involved with Margaretta. She¡¯d fawn over him like a lovesick puppy, and I don¡¯t have time for that nonsense.


    Margaretta closed her parasol and hung it on a hook by the door, her cheery smile falling away. ¡°I offered you an opportunity to raise your standing here. Many girls in this wretched hovel would do anything for that kind of opportunity. Yet you dismiss me with petty excuses?¡±


    Her eyes were hard, her expression cold, so unlike her usual cheery face.


    Something¡¯s changed¡­


    I felt for the doorknob. ¡°I am not worthy of your time anyways. Please, ignore my presence.¡±


    Margaretta stepped forward, gripping my shoulder. Her long, manicured nails dug into my skin as she drew even closer. I pressed my back against the door, my hand on the handle.


    ¡°So be it. But see to it you do not step even a foot into this town.¡±


    Who does she think she is?


    She couldn¡¯t intimidate me. I knew she would never risk her reputation to harm me. Not when it meant so much to her.


    ¡°I am not catering to your whims this time,¡± I said, straightening. ¡°I am not twelve anymore. You cannot order me around.¡±


    I could see the fire in her eyes, see her hand raise, fan gripped in it so hard her fingers were whitening. I stood perfectly still, expression blank as I met her gaze.


    You won¡¯t have the nerve to strike the daughter of your family¡¯s savior. Not when I have to go back out there and face everyone again.


    The fan hit my cheek with an audible crack. I sucked in a breath as my eyes began to water as hot pain erupted across the left side of my face.


    I stared at Margaretta, mouth agape as she sneered at me.


    ¡°I will do worse if you dare show your face here again.¡±

 Chapter 12

    Who does that vile diva think she is, assaulting people that politely decline invitations?


    I stormed down the narrow dirt road that wound through Sherwood, my cheek still smarting from the blow Margaretta had given me. Ronan followed a step behind, silent. The annoyance that radiated off of him only fuelled my angry march as we approached the gate of the chapel.


    I pushed the gate open, stepping onto the chapel¡¯s grounds. Friar Tuck¡¯s dogs barked and crowded me, nudging my hands and headbutting my legs, begging for attention.


    The chapel was really just a rectangular building in the middle of a yard surrounded by a stone wall. It was not very large, surrounded by ferns and patches of wild grasses and flowers and little boulders and such.


    Friar Tuck stepped out a side door of the chapel. He was an older man, being in his sixties, and both rather plump and nearly bald.


    ¡°Missy, Tag, Belle, what¡¯s all this commotion? Ah. Come in you two, I¡¯ll get some ice.¡±


    He waved us in, a tired expression settling on his face.


    The inside of the cottage was plain and practical, with no hallways. Instead, each room led into the next in a confusing maze to those who didn¡¯t know the chapel well. The room we entered was the library, full of shelves of real paper books and comfy chairs.


    I dropped the bags I carried on the floor and sat in the nearest chair, crossing my arms over my chest.


    ¡°Did Margaretta get to you?¡± Friar Tuck asked.


    ¡°Who does she think she is?¡± I muttered. ¡°The queen of Sherwood?¡±


    ¡°You let her hit you.¡± Ronan said, raising an eyebrow at me. ¡°It is your fault. She will go after you relentlessly now that she knows you will not retaliate.¡±


    ¡°And what was I supposed to do? Stab her in the chest?¡±


    ¡°You could have at least deflected the blow,¡± Ronan said as he set down his own bags, stretching.


    ¡°I¡¯ll fetch some ice for that bruise,¡± Friar Tuck said, slipping out of the room.


    ¡°And offend her even more? Do you know how much trouble I would get in if I had so much as scratched Margaretta?¡±


    ¡°She attacked you,¡± Ronan said, his voice darkening as he took a step closer. ¡°You failed to protect yourself, and you have the nerve to blame her for it? This is entirely your fault! Stop sniveling and storming around because of your own failures!¡±


    I stood, angry tears burning in my eyes. ¡°You don¡¯t understand. I can¡¯t just do whatever I want! Leave me alone!¡±


    I spun on my heels, storming out of the room as tears slid down my cheeks, blurring my vision.


    ¡°Oof!¡±


    I smacked into Friar Tuck, stumbling back.


    ¡°Sorry, sorry,¡± I said, wiping away my tears with the sleeve of my dress.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ¡°Ah, no need. Here¡¯s your ice.¡±


    Friar Tuck handed me the ice pack, then pushed my hair back to see the full extent of the bruise.


    ¡°She got you good,¡± he commented as I pressed the ice pack to my cheek.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think she¡¯d actually do it.¡±


    ¡°Margaretta¡¯s changed, and not for the better. I¡¯d stay away from her if I were you. And I see she¡¯s not the only one who¡¯s changed.¡± Friar Tuck said as he pulled my hair back farther, studying my pointed ear.


    ***


    I touched my cheek as I studied my reflection in the mirror. My entire left cheek was one big black-and-blue bruise and ached if I touched it or moved my mouth too much.


    ¡°Stupid, stupid, stupid,¡± I muttered, unsure if I was describing the actions of myself, Margaretta, or Ronan. Perhaps all three.


    I took a step back, stumbling over a stack of books on the floor.


    The room Friar Tuck gave me was tiny, just big enough for a bed, a small wardrobe, and a narrow desk. Stacks upon stacks of books filled every square inch or the space left. Under the bed and desk, in the deep-set windowsill, in stacks nearly as tall as I was against the walls, and a few stacks to decorate the bare wood floor. The small mirror hanging above the desk, the threadbare curtains hanging in the window,  and a simple tapestry of a fairy circle were the room¡¯s only decorations. Very fitting for what should have housed another friar rather than a guest.


    I straightened my dress and slipped out of the room, into the living room. It was also full of books, housed in bookshelves rather than stacks on the floor, and contained five doors. Four leading to the bedrooms, all identical to mine, and one leading into the kitchen. That door was open, and I could hear Friar Tuck bustling about inside.


    I followed the sound of the friar¡¯s humming, the scraping of metal on metal, and the smell of eggs and sausage cooking.


    ¡°Good morning,¡± I said as I stepped into the kitchen.


    ¡°Ah, just in time for breakfast,¡± Friar Tuck said as he scraped eggs from a cast-iron skillet onto three plates. ¡°It looks to be a very busy day.¡±


    I grabbed a plate and sat at the kitchen table. ¡°Did you find anything?¡±


    Ronan stalked into the kitchen, joining me at the table without a word. He blinked slowly, like a cat just woken from its nap.


    Friar Tuck handed Ronan a plate, then sat down at the remaining seat at the head of the table.


    ¡°I am afraid I found nothing more than what you discovered. Myths of humans wielding magic and myths explaining why we no longer can use magic.¡±


    I nodded slowly. ¡°Is there anywhere else we could look? You couldn¡¯t possibly find everything in one afternoon of searching. This place is bursting with all the old paper books.¡±


    ¡°You know I have a database I can use to find things,¡± Friar Tuck said as he poured himself a glass of water. ¡°After you explained the situation, I did a very thorough search.¡±


    How are we supposed to figure out what¡¯s wrong with us now? How am I supposed to get back to normal?


    I felt a lump form in my throat as tears pricked my eyes. I blinked them away.


    ¡°Is there anything we can do?¡±


    My voice quivered slightly as the world around me began to slowly crumble away. I was an outcast before, not strong enough to be of any real use, not good enough compared to my brother and Will and Little John and Marian and the others. With this fey ear and markings¡­ I wouldn¡¯t be able to hide it forever, and when people found out there would be trouble for Robin. I would probably have to leave Sherwood, my home. I would be entirely and completely alone.


    And Ronan had also seemed to develop strange powers¡­ would I soon gain magic too? What if I couldn¡¯t control it, or it consumed me, like the myths described happening to those not fit to yield magic?


    ¡°There is one thing you can do.¡±


    My head snapped up as I gripped the table. ¡°What is it? I¡¯ll do it. A ritual? Or do you need me to steal a book?¡±


    ¡°There is a ceremony happening tonight,¡± Friar Tuck explained. ¡°The barrier between the fey world and the human world will be at its thinnest. We can offer a prayer to the fey you saw in your visions, and she might be willing to grant us some answers.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s worth trying,¡± Ronan said with a yawn.


    Friar Tuck nodded. ¡°We will need to make sure everything is perfect. Wren, Ronan, I will need both of you to help prepare.¡±

 Chapter 13

    The sky hung low and dark above us, as if hovering over our shoulders. Crickets sang in the summer night, and a soft breeze rustled the trees around the fairy circle.


    I held my breath as I poured red wine into the golden goblet, careful not to spill a single drop. Beside me Ronan meticulously organized an array of pastries on a tray. Friar Tuck drizzled a tray of diced fruits with honey.


    The fey feast, set just inside the fairy circle, was tradition for this particular holiday, a celebration of the fey queen¡¯s coronation. But not the large platter we had staged it on, polished to a mirror shine, the beautiful golden goblet and trays, and the fine embroidered linen cloth we would use to cover the tray. Those were offerings to the fey from Ronan and my visions. Maybe, if we pleased her enough, she would offer us some aid. Maybe.


    Fey are fickle, greedy creatures. Who knows if this will work.


    I leaned back, setting the bottle of wine aside and picking up the linen from where it rested in the basket we had brought, unfolding it carefully. Ronan and Friar Tuck finished the last details of their trays and each took a corner of the richly embroidered cloth.


    ¡°Long live the fey queen, and those who are loyal to her majesty,¡± we said in unison as we carefully draped the cloth over the tray. ¡°May those who follow her majesty and accept this offering in her name be pleased.¡±


    Friar Tuck stepped back and made a shooing motion to Ronan and me.


    ¡°May the one who speaks to us in visions accept this gift,¡± Ronan and I continued, our voices slow as we repeated the carefully rehearsed phrases. ¡°May the one who sees us favorably offer us wisdom and knowledge to use the gifts given to us well.¡±


    As one, Ronan and I stood and took a step back. I watched the tray carefully, my heart pounding in my ears. We had done everything just right; the food, the drink, and the gifts prepared just-so.


    This has to work. If not¡­


    The tray sat on the forest floor, unmoving. Minutes ticked by. The moon rose higher in the sky, the air cooler and sharper than before.


    It has to work.


    Friar Tuck picked up the basket we had used to carry our offering to the fairy circle.


    ¡°Come now,¡± he said as he walked past us. ¡°The fey are feeling a bit shy, I suppose. We¡¯ll check back in the morning.¡±


    It didn¡¯t work.


    I sighed and turned, following Friar Tuck down the well-worn path and out of the forest.


    ***


    I stared up at the ceiling. Light filtered in through the curtains, brightening the space with mid-morning sun. The world felt quiet and empty.


    Maybe I should just move here and study the fey with Friar Tuck. Robin wouldn¡¯t mind me staying out of harm¡¯s way. Marian might put up a fight¡­ I¡¯ll just show them my ear.


    Someone dropped something outside my door. I rolled over to face the wall, covering my head with my blanket.


    My door creaked open and the tap of claws on the wood floor echoed through the little room.


    Did Friar Tuck send in one of his dogs to cheer me up?


    I rolled over to my other side, scanning the room. My door was open a crack, but not enough for Friar Tuck¡¯s pets, canines of a larger breed, to enter.


    Soft laughter filled the small room, high-pitched and light like a child¡¯s.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    I half sat up, propped up on my elbow as I leaned over to peer over the side of my bed.


    A fox looked back up at me with big, childlike eyes like deep pools of dark blue paint. Its fur was a peculiar swirl of black and orange all over, though its back and tail were mostly black. Its sharp teeth glinted in the sun as it seemed to grin up at me.


    What on earth is a fox doing here?


    I leaned slightly closer to the fox. It wagged its tail like a dog as it sat beside my bed, moving its front paws up and down in a happy prance.


    It must be someone¡¯s pet. But who in Sherwood would keep a fox?


    I sighed and flopped onto my back, covering my head with my blanket. I didn¡¯t want to get up yet. I didn¡¯t want to deal with the fox, or anything else for that matter.


    Maybe if I ignore it the creature will leave.


    I felt the blanket shift. I turned my head just in time to see the fox poke its head into my little cave under my blanket, barely an inch away from my face.


    I blinked, and a woman¡¯s face appeared where the fox had once been.


    I sat up, screaming, heart pounding in my ears.


    The woman fell back onto the floor, roaring with laughter as she rolled back and forth.


    Ronan threw my door open, dagger in hand. Friar Tuck moved to stand just behind him, peering into my room with interest.


    ¡°You¡¯ve attracted a fey,¡± he declared. ¡°How delightful!¡±


    I gripped my blanket in a white-knuckled grasp, opening and closing my mouth like a fish.


    The fey, for she couldn¡¯t be anything else, sat up.


    ¡°The great princess of Sherwood, scared silly by a mere fox!¡± she laughed, gasping for air. ¡°How utterly delightful.¡±


    Her eyes, the same unfathomable deep blue as the fox¡¯s, twinkled. Pointed ears poked out of her wild mane of black and orange curls, and freckles dusted her face and arms, standing out against her dark skin. She wore dark green wide-legged trousers covered in embroidery that made the fabric resemble leaves, and a matching buttoned-up shirt without sleeves to match. With her arms bare, her hair down, and her feet free from shoes, she looked every inch a wild thing.


    Definitely a fey.


    ¡°Why are you here?¡± Ronan asked, his voice hard. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    The fey leaned back on her elbows, head tipped back to peer at Ronan. ¡°You must be the Shade. So direct. How dull.¡±


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t an answer.¡±


    The fey jumped to her feet with a grace that rivaled even the best human dancer. She turned to face Ronan.


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem happy,¡± she commented, stretching. ¡°Oh dear, you all seem like such a serious crowd. This will be dreadfully boring.¡±


    ¡°What will be boring?¡± I asked. ¡°Why did you come here?¡±


    The fey spun to face me once more, a grin spread across her face.


    ¡°The queen very much liked your gifts. She was feeling quite generous.¡±


    ¡°The queen?¡± Ronan asked, meeting my gaze.


    ¡°The fey queen?¡± I guessed.


    ¡°No, silly! The queen of Sherwood, not fey.¡± The fey wrinkled her button nose in disgust.


    ¡°Did the queen of Sherwood send you, miss fey?¡± Friar Tuck asked.


    The fey turned her back on me once more. ¡°I suppose she did.¡±


    ¡°Did she give you any tasks?¡±


    ¡°To prepare the young royals for their exams.¡±


    ¡°Ah, I see. You must be very knowledgeable on these things for the queen to trust you so,¡± Friar Tuck soothed.


    The fey straightened. ¡°I suppose I am quite well versed in human magic and fey customs.¡±


    ¡°You must have a great many accomplishments,¡± Friar Tuck added. ¡°I would love to hear of them. Perhaps over breakfast?¡±


    ¡°Food?¡±


    The fey somehow straightened even more.


    ¡°Yes, and tea. But first, tell me what you prefer to be called.¡±


    ¡°I go by Kismet,¡± the fey said, stepping past Ronan without a glance his way, hands clasped. ¡°Do you have sweets?¡±


    Friar Tuck nodded. ¡°Follow me.¡±


    The air around the fey shimmered. I blinked, and she was gone. The fox stood where Kismet had stood only moments before.


    She can change forms?


    The fox pranced off after Friar Tuck, wagging her tail in glee.


    Ronan sheathed his dagger, but didn¡¯t move from his spot by the door.


    ¡°Did you need something?¡± I asked.


    Ronan shook his head, then turned and left, shutting the door behind him.


    I sighed as I slid out of bed.


    Is this the fey from my vision¡¯s answer? Why do I feel like this will be more trouble than it''s worth?