Read Online Mark of the Black Arrow by Debbie Viguié - Free Book Online

of the blue, unattached to any holiday or major event. Rumors claimed the king would make some form of announcement, but no hint had been given as to what.
    Even as a young boy Will had been fascinated by the intrigues of life at court—who was coming and going, petitions for the king’s wisdom and his resources, boons granted and judgments delivered. Being from a noble family, he could hover around the throne room and the meeting halls and listen to the conversations with little fear of being rousted.
    As a young man, he’d begun plying the standing of his family—including Robin’s father—to insert himself into the machinations of sovereignty. He recognized that he possessed no power, but he did hold a certain reputation, everyone knowing him and most of them liking him.
    It was one of many ways in which he and Robin were so different that sometimes he wondered if they were related at all. Perhaps Robin really was a foundling, some strange fey child taken in and cared for by his uncle. Will’s mother had once told him that Robin’s mother believed him a changeling.
    That would explain so much.
    He watched the groups of nobles making their way into the castle.
    “Look,” he said, as he pointed ahead of them. A pair of elegant, fair-haired people were about to cross the threshold with two elegant, fair-haired girls in tow. “It’s your family, minus your brother. We should catch up so we can arrive together.”
    “Hurry on if you want,” Robin said. “I will arrive when I choose.”
    “Don’t be surly.”
    “I’ll be better with ale.”
    “You’re not going to save the ale for the poor?” Will winked. “There are thirsty families out there.”
    “Smartarse.”
    *  *  *
    Soon the doorway loomed in front of them, stones cut by the masons and stacked to form a double arch. Robin’s eyes traveled up the polished rock and hand-tooled mortar until they landed on the one odd stone in the group. High in the right archway hung a rough-hewn block, chiseled into the shape needed to fit the gap it filled. It was the keystone. The master mason himself, generations back, had carved and placed that stone. It alone held the pressure from all the other stones, locking them into their arch, holding them to the task of forming the doorway.
    One stone, different from the rest, the only thing maintaining the integrity of the castle gates. If someone were to remove it, the entire front facade would weaken and crumble from its own weight. He picked out the chiseled initials of the master mason, located just below the carved all-seeing eye of God. He had no idea who that long-forgotten man had been, but was fascinated by the idea that he had designed such a work with but a single weak spot.
    “Robin, beware.” Will touched his arm.
    Five men approached from inside—four guardsmen and a stoutly built noble with dark hair and hawk eyes blazing beneath pulled brows. The noble wore a double rampant lion on his tunic, the two raging beasts glaring white against the sapphire-blue cloth. The man’s dark face looked as if it had been pushed into a furnace. Rage twisted his features, and his teeth shone wetly behind snarled lips.
    Locksley.
    Robin’s shoulders tensed at the threat that stalked toward him, his body growing tight with adrenaline. Unconsciously his hands reached for a bow and quiver that were not there.
    “It is the king’s feast,” Will whispered harshly. “This is just posturing—no one would do violence here.”
    Nevertheless, Robin reached to the skinning knife hidden behind his belt. The leaf-shaped blade was only two fingers long, but sharper than a razor.
    “I’m not betting our lives on Locksley’s manners,” he muttered.
    “Don’t break the law.”
    “And if he does?”
    “Then at least don’t break the law
first
.” With that, Will stepped in front of him, both hands up, palms out.
    “Locksley! Imagine running into you here, at the castle, for the king’s feast, where all men are