Page 19 of The Wicked Prince

Surprisingly… Robin was left alone.

By more than just Prince John.

She was a princess, and that usually meant handmaids and entourages. And since she was, well… a woman who’d spent eight years running around a forest and not getting a noble or royal education, she’d assumed there’d be something, some kind of tutor so she didn’t embarrass the royal family. Nothing.

It looked like Prince John wanted just what he said he wanted.

A political marriage to satisfy King Richard’s demands to stop her criminal behavior and satisfy the people’s displeasure with their regent.

But now Robin didn’t know what to do. If Prince John wasn’t going to try to actually make her embrace her new position as a princess, she was a little lost. Although, maybe it was because she was less a princess and more a prisoner. A prisoner with a nice room and shiny jewelry.

Not that Robin ever touched the full jewelry box on her dresser. The only jewelry she wore was the wedding band.

She took most of her meals in her room. The meals she did take.

Robin was used to eating sparse meals once or twice a day, just enough to keep her and her men in fighting—stealing—shape. They always gave more food than they kept.

Robin never sent for food, but a servant showed up three times a day asking if she would like a tray or if she would take her meal in the dining room. She always took it in her room since she suspected Prince John took his in the dining room.Ifshe took it at all. She often dismissed the servant for lunch or dinner, saying she wasn’t hungry.

When Robin did leave her room, three guards—almost but not quite rivaling Little Jon in size—followed her. Robin mostly wandered the halls, seeing if there was anywhere they weren’t going to let her go. So far she hadn’t found it.

She went all the way down to the dungeons and stared at the empty cells her men had been kept in. She went all the way up to the tallest tower and looked out the window at the courtyard below. Falling from that height, anyone would be lucky if they only broke a leg.

The second week back from Lathe, she tried her luck. The guards didn’t stop her from leaving the castle and stepping into the courtyard. She walked around the whole castle, wandered through the stables and petted a few horses. She spotted the guards’ barracks and their training grounds; her hands itched for her bow and quiver. Her heart panged and the echo of her bow cracking beneath the Sheriff’s hands rang in her ears. It had been a gift from Little Jon for her last birthday when she’d turned eighteen.

She pushed her luck a little further and started toward the gate. That was when she discovered her limits. The guards stepped in her way. Apparently if she wanted to leave the castle grounds she’d have to “schedule” it with the Sheriff—Prince John’s new Captain of the Guard as a reward for helping in her capture, although everyone was still just calling him the Sheriff. That way he could give “the new princess sufficient protection.” Robin wasn’t foolish enough to believe that would ever happen.

As she explored, she found a small, private courtyard, on the same side of the castle as her room. She could see her window—curtainless, the only curtainless window on this side of the castle. It was similar to the guards’ training grounds, but much smaller. A few targets, a dummy to practice forms on.

She looked at the guard to her right. They hadn’t stopped her from stepping into it. She asked, “What is this place?”

“King Richard’s private, personal training grounds.”

“Not the royal family’s?”

“You can call it that, but I’ve never seen Prince John use it, Your Highness.”

Robin still wasn’t used to the guards and servants using the honorific.

“Do you have orders to stop me from using it?”

“Our orders are only to prevent you from carrying weapons back into the castle. We’ve received none about preventing you from accessing them while in the courtyard.”

Likely an oversight on Prince John’s part, but still… better to ask forgiveness than permission. Besides, she hadn’t seen him since they’d returned from Lathe, so how was he going to know about it?

However, all she had to wear were ridiculous dresses not made for any kind of manual labor, much less fighting. She’d settle for a peasant’s dress that was at least good for the labor of a house or a field. Those were made for movement.

Although… maybe Robin could make something suitable.

It was something to do, at least. A way to keep her skills sharp until she came up with a new plan.

She was getting out of this marriage if it was the last thing she did.

Chapter8

Prince John found marriage quite suited him. Maybe not in the traditional sense, but now that he had what he wanted, there was nothing left but to enjoy it.

Two and a half weeks after they returned to Lathe, Robin’s guards had told him she’d come across Richard’s training grounds. The next day, he sent her an invitation to join him in the dining room for dinner. Well, invitation might not be the right word.

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