“There’s nothing there,” Arthur called out after the two lovers, but they had likely only been looking for an excuse to disappear. “There’s nothing there,” he repeated to Robin. “Weren’t you paying attention? We lived here. We know this place.”

“Worth checking, though,” Little said glumly, plainly to give Marion some privacy. “There may be a cask of wine in the back.”

The magic word had been spoken. “Wine, you say?” Tuck asked and was gone. Alan took the hint and left as well, but Little lingered at the door.

“Not aiming to run off, are you?”

Robin shrugged. “Would you care?”

Little’s nod was grim. “Sorry about all this.” It was an apology as well as a goodbye.

Marion threw a serious look up to Arthur, who had not left, and by the stone scowl on his face did not mean to. He was leaning on the balcony rail of the second floor, and made a show of getting comfortable. It was his way of protecting her, and Marion did not protest. Instead she lowered her voice and drew close to Robin.

“It’s good to see you. Alive.”

He gave her an unenthusiastic smile, and used his toe to punish a nearby pile of ash. “Maybe it’s better this way.”

Marion studied him. “What’s better this way?”

He grunted and turned away. That had clearly not changed. Robin had never had an easy time discussing his feelings, and she had no idea what he meant by “maybe it’s better this way.” It was cruel to imply that Lord Walter was better dead than alive. It was naïve to say the castle was better burned than destroyed. It was horrifying to think Lord Walter deserved to die in the same place as Vivian, so many years earlier. But with Robin there was no knowing when he was trying to be funny or when he was a raw nerve. He might have meant nothing more than a pithy insult at the pile of ash he had flattened, that it was “better this way.”

“I had no idea things had grown so bad,” he said.

Marion blinked. “Would it have mattered?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you had known that things were so bad, would you have done anything differently? Or is that why you’re back?”

Robin took some time to consider before answering. “No,” maybe to both questions, then he lost his thought.

“You know, your father was something of a hero.”

“A hero.” He repeated the word like it was rotten.

“He housed a lot of people here. Gave refuge to those with nowhere else to turn. He paid their taxes, they tended his land. Locksley was quite the little kingdom.” Her smile faded. His kingdom had been doomed, with no heir. “For a while.”

“I’ve heard all about it. Is it true that he paid everyone else’s taxes, but not his own?”