Page 49 of The Wicked Prince

“Think of this as the chance to fix a poor first impression.” Her lips twitched up. “You were able to improve upon my first impression of you, if only marginally.”

He rolled his eyes. “Your first impression of me was me cowering on the floor while you pointed a bow at me. It’s not hard to improve on that.”

“Well… that wasn’t actually the first time I’d ever seen you.” Robin’s heart leapt into her throat as the words fell out of her mouth. Was she really going to tell him?

John’s eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

Robin’s grandest scheme was the one where she’d made the world believe she was any different from Prince John. A coward.

“The first speech you ever gave. I snuck into the crowd. I wasn’t famous yet. I’d only just started poaching.”

John tilted his head, fussing with his hair still. “The problem with the speech was that I was the one giving it. I wrote it, and I wrote Richard’s last speech for him before he left with the army. Of course you can guess which one was better received.”

She couldn’t help her sheepish grin. “I loved King Richard’s speech.”

“And?”

“I hated yours.”

“Precisely. Because who says it matters more than what is being said.” John settled back into his seat, having proven his point. Then he blinked. “Why did you stay for my speech? Half the crowd left after Richard was done. The other half was only there to see if they could spit far enough to hit me.”

“I don’t know. I don’t really remember. Guess I was curious to see if you matched your reputation.” Robin twisted the truth. Maybe she didn’t want answers anymore.

She wasn’t sure she would like them. The answers could ruin everything. Strangely enough, she liked what she had. This alliance with him.

Temporary alliance.

The gold ring on her finger seemed to tighten.

As the carriage rolled to a stop, John eyed the door like stepping off it would be stepping off the edge of the world. He picked up the crown and started to slide it back on as he moved toward the door. Robin put a hand out, stopping him. He turned to her, opening his mouth, but Robin was already blocking his path as she leaned across the aisle.

She reached forward, taking the crown off his head and brushing her fingers over a stray lock to tuck it into place. John’s eyes were wide and locked onto her, but she focused on what she was doing and not whatever was in his gaze. She reached down and fixed his collar—his shirt green again. She set the crown on her bench before taking off her tiara and running a hand through her hair. “Now they’ll be too busy noticing you don’t have it at all to care about anything else. We’re making a statement.”

“We’re royalty,” John said, furrowing his brow.

“We’re also people, just like them,” Robin said, gesturing to the door. “Now let’s show them.”

John moved for the door, leaving the crown behind and stepping out first. To her surprise, he reached back and offered her his hand to help her down. Robin took it and stepped down. They were surrounded by a small army of guards, and she could immediately hear people in the crowd whispering, mostly about John. A few people spotted her as he helped her down and then her name was carried through the crowd too.

Although she was fairly certain they were saying hepulledher out of the carriage and nothelpedher down. John was right. People loved a villain.

The guards escorted them to the back stairs of the platform and Robin went up first. She reached behind her and grabbed John by the sleeve to make sure he was with her. He whispered, “They don’t want to see you holding onto me.”

Robin looked back at him. “Since when do you care what anyone thinks?”

“I always care. But the real issue is I don’t thinkyouwant them to see you holding onto me.”

“Then maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

As Robin stepped onto the platform, John’s fingers looped through hers and he nearly crushed her hand in his grip. That was when Robin recalled the last time he’d given a speech to the public. That last speech she hadn’t attended. She and her men had been busy taking advantage of Guy’s absence to steal back the flock of sheep Guy had taken from a small village as tax in lieu of coin.

When the news had reached Robin that Prince John’s speech in Lathe had ended with someone throwing a pie of rotten fruit at him—hitting him square in the head, she’d laughed and said he deserved worse but now he was too much of a coward to ever face a crowd again.

It couldn’t be easy, even with a small army at one’s back, to face a crowd that had attacked him before.

Robin squeezed his hand and pulled him up to her side as she reached the center of the stage. The crowd immediately erupted into a mixture of cheers and jeers. John shifted behind her slightly, not actually hiding himself since he was taller than her. His hand left hers to rest on the small of her back as she held her hands up and the crowd started to quiet. She called out and started to speak.

Robin had never given a real speech before. She’d spoken before villages and small crowds, standing on wagons to be seen and telling them they couldn’t give up and let Prince John get away with all of this. But they’d never been planned. She’d never been a great orator or writer. She still wasn’t. Every word that left her mouth about everything she’d done had come from John’s hand.

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