Chapters (76)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- PROLOGUE
- PART I
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- PART II
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- PART III
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- INTERLUDE
- PART IV
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- INTERLUDE
- PART V
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- PART VI
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- INTERLUDE
- PART VII
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- PART VIII
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- EPILOGUE
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- Newsletter Sign-up
It would seem my father’s influence has extended this far, Robin thought, and moved cautiously toward his quarry.
The stag descended the slope away from the main road, down toward the river that had been their sometimes companion throughout the day’s journey. Robin slid his hood over his head to keep the sunlight from his eyes, and stalked as best he could with only one boot. This was a pleasure he had not enjoyed in quite some time, and knowing his brother-in-arms William was out there hunting as well instantly brought back a competition he had forged with his real brother in these very woods.
They would steal away, the two of them, shirking responsibilities at the manor to see who could bring back the greater game. Edmond was sloppy but unusually lucky, while Robin had both patience and skill. Even then there were signs that Edmond was touched, as his mother described it. She’d died when Robin was only twelve. Nothing but snippets of memories remained—her cold hands, dry, clasped over his own. “Watch over Edmond. He’s touched, but he’s your brother.” He hadn’t understood then. Robin would bring home two rabbits, clean kills, and Edmond would bring three—bloodied and beaten beyond recognition, guts ripped apart and useless for anything but flavoring stew.
“I ran out of arrows, so I had to use rocks!” He’d chortle, and it seemed innocent at the time.
The memory brought a pit to his stomach. He had a sudden longing to be elsewhere, back on the Haligast, back in Acre, rather than here, alone, in the woods and in the past.
But the forest drew him deeper.
Age had brought confidence for Edmond. He was by all accounts the more handsome of the two, once they reached an age where it mattered. Both boys and girls were drawn to Edmond, his reckless nature mistaken for charisma. He had a way of getting others into no end of mischief, mostly harmless, but occasionally going too far. Theft of a chicken one day, loosing horses the next, then shooting an arrow at Lord Stannington’s dog. There was no excuse Edmond gave aside from just having fun. Lord Walter had beaten them both—Edmond for having done it and Robin for not being there to stop it.
There was only so much Robin could do, as a brother. Whenever he gave Edmond a lecture about his wilder side, his brother would apologize and occasionally cry, thanking him for caring. Days or weeks or months would pass and Edmond would be a perfect son and brother. Until something happened, and the cycle would repeat.
Until Marion and Vivian.