The Archer (The Blood Realm Series Book 3)(9)

The voice was faint, carried from the base of the rowan in the distance. Her heart fluttered as she studied the nearby fallen willow tree, its trunk as wide as a mountain troll, split open and partially hollowed by the elements. Not twenty feet away, an ash leaned, trunk severely tilted by the force of some long gone wind, the top of its branches reaching toward the willow like a warrior bending to help a fallen comrade. Over them both stood a rowan with branches that stretched in a broad, protective canopy, its limbs curving down to encompass the other two trees like a mother cradling her children. Bright green moss coated the trunk and limbs of all three, painting them with the same vibrant blanket and giving the entire setting a distinctly magical feel. These trees were somehow more…alive than the others. The energy was different here.

What are you, Robin Hood?

The thought came to her suddenly, with a gut-wrenching sensation that she was playing with forces better left alone. How often had she heard stories of the fey, stories of foolish humans who’d been stupid enough to believe the promises of inhuman would-be benefactors? And now here she was, falling into the same trap. If she had any sense at all, she’d turn around now.#p#分页标题#e#

“Not entertaining? Getting a little hard to please, aren’t we?”

A different voice this time, more nasally. It drew a fingernail over her nerves, sent shivers down her spine and raised the hair on the back of her neck. Marian set her jaw. She hated being scared, hated anything that inspired that cursed emotion. She gripped her crossbow a little tighter, finger caressing the trigger in a self-soothing, rhythmic motion. Unlike her recurve bow, the repeating crossbow would give her three shots in near-simultaneous succession. Perfect for multiple targets.

Inch by inch, she crept closer, the ends of her cloak tucked around her arms so it wouldn’t rustle the forest debris as she moved. Huddled in the safety of its folds, she peered around the trunk of a broad oak that stood just before the strange clearing.

A man reclined at the base of the rowan, almost hidden by the slant of the fallen willow’s trunk. He was dressed entirely in green, from his tunic to his leggings to the boots that gripped his sculpted calves. Lean muscles bound a frame that, even folded as it was, looked to be taller than her own considerable six foot height. Long white-blond hair hung as straight as wet silk, framing ears that came to a subtle, but distinct point.

Fey. Marian’s heart pounded a bruising, panicked beat against her chest wall. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She edged back a step, fighting to think through the sudden panic turning her thoughts to mud. The bravado of before, the urge to take on what scared her, shriveled up and died somewhere deep inside her. She could not get involved with a fey. Not for any reason, not when it might lead… Not when…

She swallowed hard, feet turning to stone before she could retreat. Four hundred pounds was a great deal of money, more than she could ever spare—especially with the condition it be paid tomorrow. If there was any chance this Robin would help her…

“He was carrying at least five hundred pounds, Robin.”

The voice that had spoken last seemed to have no body, at least none that she could see. Biting the inside of her cheek, Marian settled down again, and narrowed her eyes, examining every branch, searching for the owner of the voice.

There.

A young man hung from one of the ash’s thick branches, his slender legs curved over the limb to keep him dangling effortlessly with his face a good five feet above Robin. His eyes were slanted, mere slits that held no irises, but were one solid almond shape the color of wet soil. His smile was too wide, splitting his face in a not altogether pleasant manner, and his ears curled out to either side like twisted parchment, long and more pointed than Robin’s. His clothing hung loosely about his body, as if they didn’t belong to him but had been taken from a much larger creature.

Robin eyed the belt suspended from his upraised hand, poking at it with his finger to jingle the gaudy gold chain threaded around it. The thick leather was finely crafted and looked exquisite all on its own, the gold decoration wholly unnecessary. Based on the way it barely swung as he held it in the air, it must’ve had a decent weight. It could very well hold five hundred pounds.

“You seemed to find it funny watching him try to run away with his pants falling down.”

Another voice, this one much deeper, a low, growling base. A hulking figure lumbered out from the shadows of the trees, wide shoulders twice the width of Robin, and at least three times as wide as the skinny boy in the tree. His brown hair was streaked with gold and hung down past his shoulders, merging with a long, full beard that touched the top of his chest. Unlike his dangling companion, this man’s clothes clung to his body with the sort of desperation that suggested a button may launch itself at any moment. Despite his bulk, his solid gait and easy movement suggested a great deal of his considerable girth was muscle. He pressed his back against the trunk of the widest tree in the circle, the leaning wood groaning as he chased an itch.#p#分页标题#e#