Page 16 of The Wicked Prince

Chapter7

This wasn’t the first time a plan had blown up in Robin’s face, although it might be the last. Signing her alias in order to later invalidate the marriage contract hadn’t worked, but just because Robin was trapped didn’t mean her men had to be.

Surprisingly, Prince John wasn’t dragging his feet or trying to weasel out of that part of their deal. He probably just wanted them out of his hair.

Robin had spent the whole night after their wedding watching the locked door, clutching the only thing resembling a weapon she had access to—the curtain rod she’d pulled down from the wall—but nothing happened. The next day, she watched Prince John sign the pardons himself in King Richard’s study and make the transport arrangements. The day after that, she stood behind King Richard’s throne while John sat in it as her Merry Men were brought in from the dungeons to receive the news.

Robin glared at John as she tried not to make her discomfort in her dress obvious. It was a perfectly fine dress—well, it was more than fine. It was a dress fit for a princess—but Robin wasn’t used to wearing dresses fit for royalty or nobility, not since she’d become Robin anyway. She’d gotten away with wearing her tunic and breeches in the weeks leading up to the wedding—she suspected the only reason she had was because she’d gone to the laundry rooms to wash her clothes herself. Now the only clothes she had in her new room were dresses. Her tunic and breeches had probably been cheerfully burned by the laundry girls. She’d seen the looks they’d given her clothes. Now that she was a princess, she was expected to dress like one. John didn’t have to claim responsibility for it; she knew he was behind it.

Robin felt off-balance, vulnerable. The last thing she wanted to feel while around Prince John.

But then the doors opened and she saw her men again, and nothing else mattered.

She hadn’t realized she was moving until the guards blocked her path.

But before she could demand to be let through, John said in a lazy, bored voice, “Let her pass. They’re chained up; they can’t do anything.”

Robin hadn’t been expecting that. The second the guards stepped to the side, Robin shot forward, hiking her skirts up so she didn’t trip as she barreled toward her men who all lit up at the sight of her and called out her name.

Chains rattled as Robin launched herself at them, crushing them into a hug. It had only been a few days since she’d last seen them visiting the dungeons, but it felt like years.

She ignored the cold dread that ran down her spine when the realization hit her. She might not see them for years after they were pardoned. She might not see them again.

Robin pushed that away and focused on trying to squeeze the life out of Little Jon.

“Robin, are ye alright? Has he hurt ye?” Little Jon’s voice was deep and gruff. The wrinkles on his forehead deepened as he looked over Robin.

“He must have! She’s in a dress!” Will Scarlet said, his chains rattling as he pointed at the green skirts.

“But it’s Prince Parasite, you think his scrawny arms have the strength to kill a fly?” Alan laughed.

Will rolled his eyes. “His guards I mean.”

“And this was why you weren’t invited to the wedding.”

Robin whipped her head around to see Prince John leaning his chin on his hand, propped up on the arm of the throne. The gold rings caught the light, but John’s expression showed how dull he found it all. He didn’t even look offended by their comments.

“Ye went through with it?” Little Jon asked, his hands catching Robin’s arm as best they could while manacled.

She knew what he was asking.

Now that caused John to sit up straighter with a smirk as everything clearly became entertaining again. “Go on, Little Birdie, tell your little friends all about the ceremony.”

Robin turned back to her men and softly shook her head.

Her men deflated. She lowered her gaze. She couldn’t bear to see in their eyes the devastation and horror she’d been feeling ever since she’d lifted the quill from that paper.

John’s voice was bursting with smug superiority. “Lucky for you she did go through with it and signed her real name. Otherwise, all of you wouldn’t be free men.”

It was hard to remember she’d agreed not to kill him.

“Don’t feel very free in these, Your Cowardliness,” Alan said, rattling his chains.

Robin braced herself for an outburst, but all Prince John did was roll his eyes.

She turned back to her men, placing her hand on Little Jon’s forearm. “I owe all of you so much. I’m the reason any of this happened in the first place. I guess there’s a trap not even I can escape.”

Out of the corner of her eye, John’s smug grin faltered and was quickly replaced by his bored expression from before.

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