The Greenwood Shadow (30 page)

"Well... yeah." He should know the truth. Might as well get it over with. "I'm afraid. How can I do what I need to do when I can't even think?"

To her surprise, Emeric laughed.

"I don't envy you. Sixteen is a confusing age for everyone."

Her shout got muffled by the pillow. "I don't have time for confusing!"

"You love him, don't you."

"Maybe," she answered.

She sat bolt upright. What had she just said?

"No! I mean, he's my friend. I care about him. But love isn't even in the picture."

Emeric's face grew more serious than she had ever seen it. "You are. I can see it."

She threw herself backward again, and accidentally knocked the pillow to the ground.

"Even if I was, which I'm not, how am I supposed to even know?"

He scooted the bench a little closer to the bed. "Who is it that you're thinking of when your focus wanders?"

"Isaiah. But it's because he's hurt and–"

"Just answer," he interrupted. "How did you feel when he got hurt?"

"I wished it was me instead," she answered truthfully.

"Now, tell me what kind of person would wish to get shot with crossbow bolts?"

"Emeric, that doesn't mean–"

"How do you feel when he touches your hand?" he interrupted again.

She thought for a moment, and tried to come up with an answer that would be truthful, while still non-committal.

"Safe."

"Uh huh."

He looked at her with a triumphant expression. She knew what he was trying to get at, but she still refused to say it.

"He's my friend. My best friend. Of course I don't want him to be shot. There's nothing cheesy, or lovey-dovey about it. What's your point?"

Emeric rolled his eyes and grinned a little. "Love doesn't always mean poetry and butterflies in your stomach."

"Huh?"

"You were expecting lots of staring into each other's eyes, and running through meadows together?"

"Um, kind of?"

"When you love someone," he said gently, "as in real love, it means that you care more about them than about yourself. It means you're looking out for them, even when they make you flaming angry. It means that you'd take three crossbow bolts in the chest just to keep them safe."

Three bolts. Isaiah had taken three bolts just to protect her. He had said the words, but they meant more now.

"Can't I feel all that for a friend, too?" she asked. She knew what the answer was, but she didn't want it to be.

"Of course. There are different kinds of love, and to some degree they all come down to the same thing. But that's not what this is. Trust me."

He was right. Blast it, but he was. Evey rolled off the bed and went over to her seat in the window.

"Some uncle you are! You're sitting here telling me I love Isaiah..."

She trailed off for a moment when she said those words. After a few seconds of thought, she finished her question. "Why would you do that? We can't be together. Ever. Why do you think I've been fighting it? I've spent so much time finally convincing myself that I don't love him like that and now... well... I..."

She hastily wiped a tear from her face, and turned away from Emeric. She felt such an odd combination of relief and anger that she didn't know what to say. Emeric put his hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. After an awkward silence, he spoke again, with a tremor in his voice.

"I'm sorry. I know it's going hurt."

"What do you even know about it?" She stood and shouted right to his face, "Hurt doesn't quite cover it, you know!"

"Evelyne! Sit down!"

His reaction shocked her. She had heard him raise his voice before, but never like that. His face wasn't angry, though. It was pained, as though he were remembering something terrible.

In a softer voice, he said. "Come sit. Please."

She joined him on the bench.

"Back in Ireland, not long after your mother and father married, there was a girl. Rosalee."

Emeric stayed silent for a long time. Evey just stared.

"What happened?" she finally asked.

"There's not much to tell. We knew each other for years. Since we were young children. Eventually I fell in love with her, and she loved me. We had our whole future planned out."

He cleared his throat.

"When I was seventeen, her father promised her to the local lord in a shrewd business deal. We tried everything to get out of it, but there was nothing we could do. Eventually she was married, and I was never allowed to see her again. That's when I came here to live with my sister. It wasn't fair, but that's just the way the world works. Sometimes there's pain."

Again, there was a long silence.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I never knew."

"It's okay."

He put his arm around her, and she hid her face in his shoulder. For the first time she could see him as a father. Her real father. She broke down and let herself cry.

After ten minutes, she finally managed to ask, "What can I do? We can't break our promises, but how can I marry someone when I love someone else?"

"I... I don't know," he replied gently.

Tears streaked down his cheeks too. Evey saw the distance in his eyes.

"You still love her."

He nodded, but couldn't speak.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

He shrugged. "Why would I? It's just a sad story."

She rested her head back on his shoulder. He stroked her hair, although it was a horrible mess.

"I'm in real a tangle, aren't I?"

"I'm sorry this had to happen to you. If you had met this Isaiah fellow first, I would have done everything I could."

"I know."

"I wish I had answers for you," he said. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

She looked up. "Okay? What, to save the country in four weeks, before marrying a total stranger? No. But I'll live."

"I'm proud of you, Evelyne. You're so strong and good. Just like your mum."

"Hey, Emeric? I love you."

He hugged her a little tighter.

CHAPTER THIRTY

By the time Evey returned to camp, Isaiah could sit up and walk around slowly, though he tired quickly. She almost uttered a blessing to St. Patrick and the mother Mary, but started laughing before she finished it. Emeric was still so Irish, and she'd picked up some interesting habits from him.

Emeric. How had she known the man for her entire life, and never bothered to ask him about himself? Sure, she'd sometimes wondered why he never got married, but the question never concerned her before.

Jealousy, remorse, sympathy, and confusion all vied for a place in her thoughts. Her parents were lucky to have been so in love with each other, and Emeric so bitterly unlucky. And now history was repeating itself.

"What's wrong?"

Isaiah's voice startled her. He sat down next to her, and she suddenly felt like two separate people. One of them wanted to slide closer and confide in her best friend. The other wanted to run for the far side of the campfire, trying to avoid more conflict and pain. It took a conscious effort to keep her hand from sliding into his.

"Three weeks. That's all I've got left."

"You make it sound like a death sentence." he replied, though his laugh was obviously forced.

"Isn't it?"

He did that annoyingly cute thing where he swept a bit of her hair away from her eyes. Which reminded her just how interesting a guy he was. He'd never even seen her face without the mask. He'd never known her as the dressed-up, nicer looking Lady Evelyne. Yet he had unambiguously declared his love for her. Not something most men, in her experience, would do.

"Look," he said. "You can't think of it like that, or it really will be. People have a lot more control over their fate than you think. Besides, I'm sure he's not so bad."

Evey swallowed hard. "But he isn't you."

Isaiah's face grew suddenly solemn, and Evey instantly regretted the words. She only wished they could change the subject, but there wasn't time to beat around any bushes. Not anymore.

"Three weeks. How are we supposed to do everything we need in that short a time?"

"No walls are going to hold you in," Isaiah said with a brief smile.

"Maybe not for a night or two. But a full scale coup? It's now or never."

Isaiah struggled with his thoughts for a moment before saying, "It's not much longer for me either."

"Yes, but you won't have to play the dutiful wife." She looked him straight in the eyes. "Isaiah, if we don't get this done, promise me you'll keep trying, even if I can't be there."

"You'll be there."

"You dummy, I'm serious. Just promise."

He smiled, but it was sad and kind of depressing. "Fine. I promise."

The sound of something crashing through the trees stole their attention. After a few seconds, Evey recognized it as a horse and rider in full gallop. Speeding through such thick trees like that was risky at best. Who could possibly be in such a desperate hurry?

Moments later, the rider came into sight, and slowed the horse. Once in camp, David threw off his hood, and breathlessly called them all together. He seemed as winded as his horse, who took to grazing on stray bits of wild grass.

"It's Sir Guy. He's plotting something. Something huge. I don't know all of the details. I tried to find out, but it was no good. He's too careful, and too clever. But I know it has something to do with my father, and the throne, and especially getting rid of Robin Hood. If we're going to act, it has to be soon."

"The sooner, the better." Evey said, "but we've got to have a plan before we can act. And I'm fresh out of ideas."

"Let's start with Sir Guy. How much do you know about his plot?" Isaiah asked.

David nodded. After a long pull on his waterskin, he began, "As soon as I arrived home, I got wind of something, but I couldn't define it. There was a vague murmur through the castle. Certain servants avoided my gaze. Sir Guy slipped into rooms that he had no business in.

"After three days, I happened upon a corner where two of Sir Guy's minions were discussing something. I hid and listened to the last few sentences. That was all I needed. I knew the king's life was in danger, and that Sir Guy had been planning this overthrow for a very long time. It sounded close. I couldn't waste any time, so I set out for camp straight away."

He finished by slumping against a tree, and accepting a bowl of the stew that John had been tending.

"A play for the throne?" Isaiah shook his head. "I knew he was devious, but I didn't see that coming."

David answered through a mouthful. "If Sir Guy intends to become king, that doesn't just mean that my father is in danger. My brothers and I are as well."

"Do you have any sort of idea, anything at all, about when he plans to make his move?" Isaiah asked him.

"Nothing concrete. I heard "soon" a lot. It sounded almost like a code of some sort. All I do know is that things in the castle are extremely tense. Like they're reaching a critical moment."

"If you had to make a guess?"

David thought for a moment. "I'd say no longer than a week. Maybe two weeks if we think quite optimistically. But I wouldn't risk that."

"So what do we do?" Will asked.

All eyes turned to Isaiah.

"What? I don't have answers. I'm still half-dead." He backed away from the fire and sat on a log several feet away.

The other three looked to Evey next, and she rolled her eyes. "Eat your food, and think of something. We'll talk afterward."

While the others talked, Evey sat next to Isaiah, and they ate in silence. Again, it was awkward to be physically near him. It just served to remind her of what she'd never have. But he needed her, so she toughed it out.

His voice quavered. "Why did they all look to me?"

"You're Robin Hood."

"No. No I'm not. You are. Not me. I'm nobody."

Without knowing why, Evey smacked him across the face. He was shocked, and stared at her with his familiar raised eyebrow. To be honest, she'd shocked herself a little, as well.

"To them, you are." She pointed to the others at the fire. "You are brave, caring, charming, loyal, talented, and you gave your life to save me. Don't tell me you're no one."

He rubbed his cheek. "I didn't actually die."

"And a good thing, too," she blustered. "Because if you had, I might have killed you myself."

They both laughed a bit stiffly.

"But I made the plan last time," he said grimly. "We all saw how that turned out."

"That was not your fault. The plan was fine."

He shook his head. "I just can't do it again. I can't."

She recalled something Isaiah had said to her in the past. Something around some campfire that felt a million miles away and a million years ago. "You don't have to do everything by yourself."