It took a moment of decision, but William ground his jaw and accepted the answer. “Saying I stole it is a bit theatrical,” he said. “I’m finishing de Lacy’s legacy. Would you honestly prefer Lord Gisbourne as Sheriff? A man who would rather kill all those who oppose him, who steals from the poor and gives to the rich? Ask this man, his assistant. Tell me honestly,” he asked Ferrers, “how would your captain fare as Sheriff?”

“Deplorably,” Ferrers answered without hesitation.

“That’s what I’m up against.”

William brushed his hair from his face, shifting his feet in rapid little circles. “Do you think the people would be safer under his command? I’m trying to protect them, same as you. Damn it, Robin, you would have done the same thing. If we had changed places, if our roles had been reversed. When we were attacked in the woods, if your leg hadn’t been injured, if you had run and I stayed instead. You would have done this the same as I. Every step along the way.”

“I say deplorably,” Ferrers continued, “largely because he is dead. Robin cut his throat out in the Sherwood.”

The image was burned in Robin’s mind, bathed in red. He had always thought it was a metaphor, but the world had lost all definition, turned the color of blood. His reactions had been instinctive, but he could not pretend they were not his.

William’s jaw dropped to his chest. “You can’t … this…” He slumped back down into the chair. “You can’t just go around killing public officials whenever it suits you!”

“And you can’t just slap on a warcrown every time you think you know better!” Robin returned, regaining his composure. It startled William, as if he thought Robin might forget his history in seizing power. “Step down. If you took the Sheriff’s office to prevent Gisbourne from doing so, as you claim, then prove it. He’s no longer a threat, not to you, not to anyone. Step down, and release Marion.”

“Marion,” William snatched the name, plucking it from the air with his hand. “Is that why you’re here? Is that all it comes down to?”

It was not a subject for him to broach. Robin repeated his question, “Will you step down?”

“Why, because you fancy her? Because you’re jealous? You can’t see beyond that?”

Don’t let him twist this. “You know you won’t, because you like the power.” Robin raised his sword again, perfectly horizontal over the table, his muscles fighting back. “You don’t care about peace, or about protecting the people, those are just your excuses. All you really care about is yourself. King William!”

“Myself? What have I gained from this?” He slammed his fist on the table, rattling its contents. “I am surrounded by strangers and enemies, all of which seek my destruction! I still try to find a peace for people that hate me, while you call yourself noble for surrounding yourself with admirers. The great Robin Hood, the savior of the people! You accuse me for thinking too much of myself? You teach the people songs defiling me and calling me a villain, and they believe the tripe about you. A thousand people saying you’re right doesn’t make it true. Look beyond yourself!”