Across the room, the remnants of the traitor lord’s army fidgeted nervously. They had long ago made the disappointing choice that could lead only to a prison cell. Unfortunately, they were unlikely to share Guy’s assessment of their fortunes—they were the type that preferred sharpened weapons over sharpened minds.

Guy surveyed the room, and focused on the man with whom Wendenal was standing. “Is this him, then?”

Wendenal confirmed with a nod. “I’ve got a hold of this, thank you.”

Guy ignored the comment and smiled, hoping to put the stranger at ease. There was no need for hot minds when peace was an option. “Robin of Locksley, a pleasure.” He approached cautiously but shook the man’s hand with enthusiasm. There was not much of the man’s father in Locksley’s softer features, and Guy could only hope that extended to his personality. In this very room, Lord Walter had distracted Guy’s men by throwing a wine bottle, which had landed with a thud on the table, unbroken, and slid to an embarrassed halt. After that, the chase. “I am so sorry as to these circumstances. This is not a homecoming I would wish upon anyone.”

Robin winced, genuinely. “Captain. Thank you.”

“I’m sure you have many questions, and no doubt you’ve been given many answers. If I were you, I would doubt their authenticity.”

The fact that Locksley’s hands were not bound behind his back meant the outlaws had potentially tried to radicalize him. No doubt they had played to his sympathies as a son, ignoring the truth of Lord Walter’s treason. But Wendenal had spoken strongly of Robin’s character, and there was always hope.

“As the arm of the Sheriff, there are some complications to deal with in regard to your father, and his land. But as a father and a son myself, please accept my regrets for your loss.”

“Piss off!” shouted one of the raiders, lingering at the edges like a carrion bird.

“I also apologize for their disrespect,” Guy conceded, “and for your treatment in the last day or so. Policing the Sherwood is one of our highest priorities, and your capture is a disgrace. A problem which, I’m told, you’re here to help us with.”

Robin relaxed, another good sign. “That’s true enough.”

“Lord Gisbourne,” Wendenal interrupted again. “Thank you for your assistance, I shall take things from here.”

“With respect, your task here is complete.” Guy eyed him strongly, unsure just where he meant to take things. “We’ve successfully found your friend, healthy and alive. But this search has also brought us to a group of woodland rebels—a trifling matter, but one in which, I assure you, I hold authority.”

“Roger de Lacy asked me—”