There wasn’t anything else to say about it. Letting her thoughts linger on Robin, that was better not done. Their entire lives had been like two boats on a river, side by side for a moment but then drifting away from each other, only to come back and away again, endlessly. For so long, she had seen her own boat as constant while his went weaving. He would always try too hard, try to be just slightly more man than he was. And when he failed, his emotions flared and he pushed himself away in the current. All she ever wanted was for him to accept himself, and what had happened. But he bore his brother’s act as if it were his own, always overcompensating. Always trying to impress her enough to make it go away, to make up for things that could never be undone. It had taken him years to return to her, to finally claim ownership of his misgivings, and seize responsibility for those he taught. When they kissed under the eaves of the Oak Camp, she thought their boats were finally side by side, as she had long hoped.

And then she’d suddenly keeled her own boat toward the farthest bank.

“So that’s it?” John asked.

“As I said,” she stood, with finality, “I don’t get that luxury. What I can accomplish here is far more important.” She forced herself to forget about Robin. To forget he was here, that he was here for her. “You should go find him. I don’t know that I can protect you if they find you in here with me.”

“Well,” John said, slapping his knees and standing, “that certainly isn’t how I thought this would go.”

He opened his arms for her and she went right to him, letting him wrap around her, squeezing. She buried her forehead into his chest, ignoring the rank of his sweat. She couldn’t help but wonder when next she would be able to embrace him.

“You’re a good man, John Little.”

“You know what, Lady Marion?” He raised an eyebrow and looked down at her. “You’re a better man than I am.”

She laughed and had to dab at her eyes to dry them. “Oh, am I?”

“That you are.” He let her go, and turned to unwedge his staff from the door. But as soon as he touched it, he froze. “Oh hell, you don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

His face lost all the love that made it so gentle a moment ago. “Elena. She took her own life, Marion.”

He might as well have punched her in the chest.

“She broke out of the prison with Will, but things went bad. Alan’s dead, too, and Lord Gisbourne, and more than a few others. Some men from Bernesdale that got involved.”