Page 72 of The Wicked Prince

Robin narrowed her eyes at him. “They’re free men, aren’t they? Besides, you’re the one who insists I have three personal guards; who better than my men?”

John paused for a moment and then tilted his head, seeming to consider it. Then he nodded and said, “Well, I suppose it’s better than having to throw them out of the city gates every week.”

Robin turned back to her men and gave them a wry smile. “Come on, boys. We could use you.”

“Work for Prince John—” Will started.

“We’d be honored to, Robin. Wouldn’t we?” Little Jon said, narrowing his eyes at Will and Alan.

She could feel John startle against her at Little Jon’s support. Will and Alan looked at each other, then at her and Prince John, then at Little Jon and she could see the little wheels in their heads turning before they finally nodded. Will said, “Fine. We would be happy to be Robin’s guards.”

John squeezed Robin’s waist, and Alan’s gaze immediately darkened. Robin rolled her eyes as she turned in John’s grip to give him a reproachful look, but he only returned it with a smug grin. He said, “Now can we go home, my wife?”

Will made a disgusted noise, but Robin pushed herself onto her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. “We can, my husband.”

Even better than the day Prince John caught Robin Hood was the day Robin Hood chose Prince John.

Epilogue

John knew he was going to regret keeping the Merry Men around. But having them around made Robin shine brighter. She laughed often at something they said or did, so he supposed it was worth it just for that.

Other than the snide comments, they weren’t much trouble at all. It was also easy to get back at them. All he had to do to get under their skin was kiss his wife.

For all that Robin accused him of being handsy, she was surprisingly more so. John wasn’t complaining.

Their work continued. It was tedious work, but having someone to do it with made it bearable. Slowly but surely, John could see his and Robin’s work take effect in the numbers. In Richard’s reports on how the war was going. They weren’t being decimated. They had supplies. People had food. They were able to spend a little more in the market. Things were getting better.

He knew most people still thought it was in spite of him, but when Robin nagged him into giving a speech with her or making some kind of public appearance, each time he feared a little less about a mob coming for his head.

Then one day, after months of progress, with autumn fast approaching, and two weeks of Robin being sick in the mornings, he came in to check on her at lunch, and she was up, pacing the length of their room.

Something was… not wrong. But different. Tense.

He paused as he came in and said, “Are you feeling better?”

Robin paused in the middle of the room, put her hands on her hips, then her stomach, then crossed them. Then she blurted out, “I think I’m pregnant.”

John froze.

Robin swallowed, her hands falling back to her stomach. “I wrote to Marian to ask her how she knew for certain, but I only just sent the letter. And I wasn’t going to say anything until I was certain. You and I have never actually talked about this part, but I just have this feeling—”

John had crossed the room as she spoke, cutting her off as he took her face in his hands and kissed her soundly. Robin let out a muffled noise before catching herself by grabbing his shirt and kissing him back.

When he finally pulled back, still holding her head in his hands, she whispered, “So, good news?”

“The best news,” John said before wrapping his arms around her waist and curling around her.

Robin sighed as she looped her arms around his neck. “Good. When we’re certain, we can announce it. There will be some talk—I’m sure you remember what those two men started saying when they suspected I was pregnant around my birthday—but I’m sure most people will see it as good news to celebrate. Although, I don’t know what your brother will think—”

“I don’t care,” John muttered into her hair.

To his surprise he meant it. He’d let people think so many things about him, about his relationship with Robin because it was easier, but that never meant he hadn’t cared. But now?

“As long as you’re happy with the news, and I cannot express how happy I am at it, that’s all that matters.” He curled his fingers into the back of her dress. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

He did care when the morning after Robin announced their news to her Merry Men, Robin dragged him down to the training grounds, much to his confusion. The second he stepped inside, he had to duck to avoid the staff thrown at his head.

Little Jon stood in the middle of the grounds, holding his own staff.

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