Now she knew, and spoke it, answering him in kind with cool self-possession, fully cognizant of what the admission could mean. “The fleshly sword, yes. But he also taught me what you cannot: what it is to love a man.” Dull color stained his face. Her thrust had gone home cleanly, and more deeply than she had hoped.

Her matter-of-fact confirmation of his crude insinuation turned the blade back on him. His eyes glittered in flame. “Do you know what I see?”

She knew very well what he saw. She named it before he could. “Robin Hood’s whore,” she answered. “And grateful for the honor.

Author: Jennifer Roberson