Page 51 of The Wicked Prince

Robin’s bright flush returned and she tried not to strangle him on the spot.

That night, she and John took dinner in his room instead of the dining room after their long day. He finished his glass of wine and sank back into the sofa, throwing his arms back over the side and the arm of the chair. His hair fell back as he looked up at the ceiling and said, “We’re never doing that again.”

Robin pulled her legs up onto the couch as she turned to face him, her own arm over the back of the sofa as she adjusted and said, “Come on, you were enjoying yourself by the end of it! Wasn’t it nice? To actually physically give back? To stop pretending to be the villain and be something else?”

John cracked open one eye. “Pretending?”

“You know what I mean. I’m just saying, maybe people will start to think more of you now that they’ve seen you doing some good, and maybe those men’s families will tell them to be grateful you didn’t jail them or fine them.”

“Oh, don’t count on it, Little Birdie.” John closed his eyes and shifted back again, gesturing in the air. “They’ll spin it and spin it and spin it until the story becomes I had them flogged for looking at you. I ripped you out of the carriage and shoved you up onto that stage and I was whispering in your ear with a knife at your back, making you say all of that and then I dragged you from house to house before finally dragging you back to the castle where tonight I’ll beat you or starve you or do any number of horrible, unspeakable things to you. And you’ll suffer it all so nobly and bravely and the truth doesn’t matter.”

Robin scoffed and jabbed her bare foot into his thigh, her slippers abandoned on the floor. John immediately sat up, grabbing her ankle and pulling it into his lap. Robin lightly tried to tug her foot back, but he didn’t let go as she said, “You are so dramatic! That is not what everyone is saying right now.”

“That’s exactly what they’re saying. And if you weren’t on the other side of it, you wouldn’t believe any differently, would you?” John opened his eyes again and looked at her.

“I—” Alright. He caught her there. But she had good reason to. “I wouldn’t now.”

His lips twitched into a smile. “Then that’s what matters. That and the fact that they all saw you out there doing the exact same thing you used to do, just in a dress and without three savages trailing behind you.”

Robin tried to pull her ankle back again, but John just pulled it back. “And that just goes to show you’re not immune to prejudice either. Just because they’re not princes doesn’t mean they’re savages.”

He lifted his head and rolled his eyes. “Their fearless leader bit me. If that doesn’t make them savages, I don’t know what does.”

“Leader,” Robin scoffed. “We were a team. I only became the ‘leader’ because it was my idea to start stealing and I was the one who came up with the plans. Everything was a team effort. We were a family.”

John’s hand stilled and it was only then Robin realized his thumb had been moving in a slow, small circle on her ankle. “That explains it.”

“Explains what?” Robin sat up straighter, but this time not taking advantage of the chance to pull her leg back.

“Why no one ever seems to recognize you for your real talent. And no, I’m not talking about archery. You were the schemer, and they were…” He tilted his head. “Is that what all of them were to you? A second family?”

Schemer? John was a schemer. She was… the one with the plan. There was nuance.

But the fact that he thought that was what her greatest gift was…

“Little Jon was like a father to me and Will. Alan was like our older brother, and Will was like a brother as well,” Robin spoke softly.

A weight settled in her chest and her stomach turned as she realized some days she didn’t even seem to miss them as much as she should. She should be feeling their absence like a boulder on her back or a hole in her chest. But most days she was…

“Still. Not everyone with blood brothers can claim such loyalty and closeness. Those three were just the first to see what everyone else would later when they appointed you their savior.”

“What is the deal with you and Richard?” Robin asked.

“There’s really nothing to say. Despite what the general public might believe, I’m not secretly sending assassins after him or plotting all the ways I’ll poison him and steal the crown for good. That doesn’t mean I’d follow him to the ends of the earth. He was the heir, the warrior king, the inspiring leader and hope for the future and I was… quiet.”

A distant look entered John’s eyes and Robin held her breath as she wondered if maybe this was the moment every question she had about John from the moment she’d agreed to marry him would finally be answered. She still wasn’t sure she wanted the answers… But maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as she feared.

“Lonely. Richard always got on well with everyone and it was always so effortless for him. Two people as different as us could never be close. He was always a man of action. I kept to myself with my sketchbooks. Anything I wasn’t good at that he was, I stopped doing because I didn’t want to always be compared to him and have it always highlighted how I was second best. Not a fighter. Not a leader people wanted to follow. When trouble comes, I give up. When danger approaches, I run.”

Something deep settled into her chest. There was nothing she understood more than running away. She’d been running for so long she didn’t think she could ever stop.

The portrait he’d painted of her and her parents still sat in his room behind them.

Even if she didn’t have to keep running… when had that ever stopped her?

John sighed. “When I was younger, before our parents died, I did attempt to defend myself, but I also wasn’t a saint. I hated how easy everything was for Richard and how much harder it was for me. Sometimes… I did receive blame for things I had done. Stealing Richard’s assignments and painting over them so he’d have to re-do them was just one among the many I was caught for. So my reputation wasn’t wholly unearned; I wasn’t likable like Richard was. I always said the wrong thing. The cruel thing. I lied. So anytime there was the chance to be blamed, I was the easiest person to blame. No one ever believed me when I wasn’t lying and I wasn’t at fault. So… it became easier just to be what everyone expected. There was a moment where I was more power hungry. I did want to be regent. I wanted to be something. But I mostly didn’t want to be dead. Richard was set on the idea that someone should lead the army from the desert, and I’ve never been able to stand up to him, but I begged for him to let me stay in Lathe. I was so relieved when he agreed he would go to war and I would rule. Now that I wasn’t terrified for my life, I thought that maybe finally I could be powerful and respected and everything he always had been as heir and then king. But I know better now. I will never be beloved the way you and Richard are. Truth doesn’t matter. Everyone has long since made up their minds about me, and I’ve made my peace with it.”

Robin had thought her mind had been made up about him. She’d thought the truth had been one thing. Maybe it was another. But with a man who didn’t care to fight for it, how was she ever going to know?

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