Page 37 of The Wicked Prince

That afternoon while they worked he had ample opportunity to observe. Robin was doing a good job acting normal, but he’d spent a very long time learning every detail of her features and had gotten to know the rest of her quite well too. He knew when she was putting on a good face to hide pain. When she thought he wasn’t looking, her expression would twist and she would bend down and rub her left leg over her skirts for just a moment before going back to her work.

John also knew Robin was so stubborn and self-sacrificial that she wasn’t going to say anything about it.

That night, Robin was sitting on his sofa, her legs pulled up onto it with her skirts spread over them, her legs tucked close enough so she could reach over and rub her leg when she thought he wasn’t looking. John was sitting in the chair closer to her front, their documents and research spread all over the table like normal. A fire was crackling behind them, but the air still had a harsh bite to it.

Robin was clearly biting the inside of her cheek in her discomfort, and John finally said, “You don’t have to do that.”

Robin immediately sat up and said, “Do what?”

“Pretend that your leg doesn’t hurt.”

Robin rolled her shoulders and looked down, reaching forward to shift papers that didn’t need moving. “It’s just a bruise. You managed to get a good hit in yesterday for once. There’s nothing to be done about it.”

He let out a soft sigh. “You don’t have to do that either.”

“What?”

“Lie to me. I know exactly why you’re in pain. It’s from an old injury not a new one.” John leaned forward as Robin’s eyes widened and her breath hitched. “A broken leg.”

“You…” Robin shifted back, her knuckles whitening. “How do you know that?”

“Because I’ve seen it before. This happened to my father every winter too.” John watched as the tension eased and she sank down a little. John hesitated over what he wanted to say next. It was Robin, so the chances were high she would take it poorly and he could undo all of the progress he’d made with her. That was terrifying.

Now that Robin spent time with him and talked to him and most days didn’t seem to actively hate him, nothing terrified him more than losing what he had with her.

But Robin was in pain and there was something he could do about it.

So that was enough for him to open his mouth despite his thundering heart.

“I could help.”

Robin shook her head. “There’s nothing to be done about it. This happens every winter, and all I can do is just bear it until spring. Some days aren’t so bad. My men tried to find ways to help. Little Jon gave me every plant there was that was supposed to ease pain. Alan tried to make me laugh so hard I couldn’t feel it. Will would give me his blankets so I could wrap my leg in them at night to keep it a little bit warmer. But the ache still kept me up. It’s just what old injuries do.”

Thank the stars he had her now if that’s how those ruffians tried to take care of her. It was a miracle she’d survived with them.

“There might be nothing you and your outlaws knew to do about it, but when the king suffers that kind of ailment the physicians don’t rest until they find a solution. I’m not saying I can make it go away, but I can help make it bearable. Will you let me show you?”

Robin eyed him warily. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you care if my leg aches?”

“Because—” The small fraction of courage he’d managed to find in his weak, pathetic heart died. “Because it’s distracting you and getting in the way of our work.”

Robin narrowed her eyes, and he froze, hoping she couldn’t see right through him. Then she bit her lip and rubbed at her leg for a moment before sighing. “Fine.”

John immediately shot out of his seat and started pushing furniture out of the way, clearing the space between the sofa and the fireplace. He then pushed the sofa up closer to the fire while Robin looked over the back of it at him.

He could feel the heat crawling over his skin as he moved back to the front of the sofa. He took a seat on the end opposite her and gestured to Robin’s legs, curled up between them. She pulled them in tighter and her eyes narrowed again. He said, “If I’m going to help you with your bad leg, reason suggests I might need said bad leg.”

Robin glanced over at the curtain rods before looking back at him. “This is just an excuse to get handsy, isn’t it?”

She was accusing him?

“First of all, you really have no right to say that given you can’t keep your hands off me always ‘correcting my grip and stance.’” Robin sat up, opening her mouth, but John held a finger up and continued, “Second of all, it’s not like you didn’t show me and the entire troop escorting us your lovely calves when we were leaving Ferren Forest. I promise this is strictly below the knee.”

Robin’s cheeks were tinged red as she looked at the fire, and he couldn’t tell if the flush was from the heat or something else. But she did stretch her leg out, carefully hitching her skirt up so she only exposed her leg from the knee down and let him take it.

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