The Archer (The Blood Realm Series Book 3) by Jennifer Blackstream

Author:Jennifer Blackstream [Blackstream, Jennifer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Robin Hood, artistocrat, magic, angel, werewolf, god, adventure, demon, vampire, air elemental, paranormal, romance, fantasy, fairy tale, loup garou, rusalka, action, sidhe, prince, mermaid, royal
Publisher: Skeleton Key Publishing
Published: 2016-05-21T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

“So who is she really?”

Mrs. Thornton’s voice danced around Robin’s ears, barely registering over the caterwauling of her seven children. The small cottage did its best to absorb the sound. The white stucco walls were covered with shelves and shelves of bits of clay shaped by tiny hands, framed drawings and paintings that may or may not have been the result of accidental paint spills, and a host of delicate knickknacks the homeowners were optimistically hoping to keep out of reach. Unfortunately, seven children produced a level of sound that would no doubt be heard through the bedrock of Scythia itself.

Robin opened his mouth to answer her only to be distracted by a pinch at the top of his thigh. He glanced down to where the youngest, Matthew, was climbing up his leg, little face screwed up in concentration. Red curls of downy baby hair stuck out at wild angles from his head, and one chubby hand groped higher, searching for a handhold. He brushed the bottom of Robin’s bow and Mrs. Thornton scooped him up before he could close his fist around it.

“Robin,” she prompted, holding the frantically squirming two year old in one arm braced on her hip. “Who is she?”

Against his will, Robin’s gaze was dragged back to the woman who had held it for the majority of the evening. The glamour he’d conjured for her hid her red hair under a black cascade of straight, silken locks and masked her green eyes with a deep chocolate brown. Her high cheekbones were sharper, her muscled arms more slender and delicate. The soft curves of her hips, visible only when she turned suddenly and the green cloak flared behind her, swelled out an inch or so more. And she was more than half a foot shorter.

But his glamour didn’t hide her joy. It didn’t hide the huge smile that hadn’t left her lips since Mrs. Thornton’s oldest, a girl of twenty, had attached herself to Marian’s side, fascinated with her recurve bow and the feathered arrows in the quiver at her back. Since the six-year-old twins had engaged in a battle for her attention by seeing who could sing the loudest—a rather bawdy drinking song they’d learned from their uncle no less.

“She is only a friend, love,” he murmured. “Just a friend.” Just a friend. Just. A. Friend.

“Aye, and you’ll want to be keeping it that way.”

A solid hand on his arm broke the huntress’ spell. Robin blinked the rose-colored haze from his eyes and turned to look at the speaker, finding Mr. Thornton himself standing at his side with a serious look etched into his weathered face. His severe black shirt was open at the collar, revealing a nest of grey chest hair, and the small eyeglasses on the end of his nose were smudged with tiny fingerprints.

“Shut up, Alan,” Mrs. Thornton warned. She put down the child she’d pulled from Robin so she could cross her arms over her thin chest. Her pale blue eyes narrowed at her husband, pinching the soft white skin of her face like the petals of a daisy.

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