Mojitos with Merry Men (24 page)

Off the main room there are several bedrooms, the largest featuring a canopy bed enclosed in heavy drapes.

"Who sleeps there?" I ask, peering inside.

"Lady Marian."

"Oh." I frown. Ugh. I've got to share the suite with her? That's going to be a bit awkward. Then again, maybe she won't be back, now that she's probably all shacking up with my boyfriend.

The thought sobers me, and I sink onto one of the stools, suddenly filled with melancholy. I've now gone from having the time of my life as an outlaw, doing good deeds, and falling in love with a man I considered my possible soul mate to cohabitating with a bunch of superficial girls who only care about themselves and the latest cut in gowns. Sure, it'll be nice to have a bath, but I already miss Sherwood Forest.

Funny thing is, if I'm being completely honest, I miss life with Robin even more than I miss life back in the 21st century. Weird, huh? I mean, who would think I'd prefer sleeping on the ground and peeing in the woods to a Starbucks on every corner and taxis at my disposal? (Well, sort of at my disposal, depending on what time I really need them and what corner I find myself on. But then, of course, there's always Uber.)

If things had worked out with Robin, what would I have done when King Richard returned? Would I have said good-bye and good luck and went on my merry way? Or would I have stayed?
Could
I have stayed, I wonder? Would Nimue allow it? Is it possible? I guess I could have always brought Robin back to the 21st century like Kat was trying to do with Lancelot, but would I even want to? I like it here. The fresh scent of pine in the forest, the cheery chirps of sweet songbirds waking me each morning, the good, hard-working, honest people that live here—I'd miss all of that.

According to the legends, once King Richard returns, Robin gets back his lands. He and I could get married and live as the Lord and Lady of Locksley. Our children could play at our feet, just as Robin told me he'd done as a child. We could be loyal, kind rulers, and our people would love us. We could grow old together, be best friends and true loves.

I shake my head to get rid of the ridiculous fantasy. Even if I could stay in the past, it no longer mattered. History had played out the way it was supposed to, Robin hooked up with Marian. She is his true love, the one destined to be Lady Locksley, not me. She is the one who gets the happy ending.

And me, I'll just go back to NYC and live out the rest of my days in an empty existence. I don't even want to meet another guy. Who's going to be better than the one I had? The legendary outlaw with the wicked smile and heart of gold. There's no one in the 21st century that could be as worthy. As strong. As confident. As hot and sexy.

One of the ladies-in-waiting rings a bell, and a few moments later a scrawny, red-headed servant boy appears in the doorway.

"Fetch the bath," the woman instructs him. "This girl stinks like a pig who has spent its day rolling in mud."

"Actually I heard pigs are pretty clean—just FYI," I tell her, unable to resist.

She shoots me a scornful look. Hm. I'm not doing so well on the winning-friends-and-influencing-people thing. I wish Kat would call. She'd totally know how to handle these wenches. After all, these fashion-obsessed types are totally her peeps.

A few moments later, two other servants appear carrying a large wooden tub between them. They set it down in the center of the room. Other servants follow, each with a bucket of steaming hot water, which they pour into the tub. I watch, actually kind of psyched. After all, I haven't had a bath the entire time I've been here. Sure, I've dunked in the lake, but there wasn't any soap, and the freezing cold water forced me to limit my soak time.

The brunette hands me a bar of sweet-smelling soap. Another adds a pinch of crushed flower dust to the water and soon the sweet scent of roses rises with the steam. How lovely.

The servants bow and exit the room. I look at the tub, then back at the girls. They stand, waiting, expectant. Um…

"Can I have some privacy?" I ask, trying not to sound as impatient and annoyed as I feel. But, come on! I'm so not stripping in front of these girls. You know the first thing they're going to do is start making evil comments about my small chest. Or my not exactly crop-top worthy stomach. And trust me, I'm not ready to relive the locker room days of high school, thank you very much.

They grumble a bit, but they do retreat to various rooms in the suite. Alone, I strip off my dress and dip a foot into the steaming bath. It's a tad too hot, but at the same time, it feels awesome against my skin. I force myself to endure the heat and sink into the water, my insides warming and a sense of contentment washing over me.

This is more like it! I may miss forest life, but I've also missed a nice hot bath like this. Especially since there's only a shower stall in my tiny apartment back home. I can't even remember the last time I soaked in a real tub. I almost forgot how wonderful it feels.

I wash all my parts and then just sit for a while, until the water starts cooling and my fingertips get all prune-y. Then I rise and gingerly step out of the tub, my head a bit foggy from the heat. As if on cue, a servant steps out from one of the rooms—was she watching the whole time?—and wraps a towel around me. Another appears with a new dress, a bright green gown with embroidered bell sleeves. Very nice.

Once I've dressed, the three ladies spill out from their various rooms and gather around me with eager expressions.

"You have had your bath," the blonde says. "And something suitable to wear. Now deliver us the magic you promised."

I swallow hard.
Showtime
. I hope this works.

I walk over to my bag and pull out my camera. I flip the on switch, and to my relief, the device comes to life. I wasn't sure how much battery power I had left.

"Behold, the magic mirror!" I say, waving it around with as much showmanship as possible. The three women stare at the device, evidently not sure what to make of it. I chuckle. Wait till these vain vamps see what it does.

"Magic mirror?" asks the brunette, cocking her head.

"Ask no questions now. I will demonstrate its power," I say grandly, channeling David Copperfield. "Who would like to go first?"

The three girls look at one another with uneasy expressions. Ha! They're scared. My act is working. Finally, the redhead timidly steps up.

"I will," she says, her voice a bit quavery.

"Very well," I say, giving her a once-over. She's actually very pretty, though a bit pale. I wish I had the
La Style
makeup artist on call. Or some lights, for that matter. But hey, I remind myself, these girls have never seen a digital camera before. I don't need to deliver magazine-quality shots. Still, I do have some professional pride.

"Now," I instruct, getting into photog mode. "Look at me. Yes, right. Now turn your left hip outward. Good. Hands on your hips. Dip your head a little lower. That's right."

My subject frowns and glances over at her friends. I realize they're giggling at her expense. She turns back to me, glaring. "What does all of this have to do with a magic mirror?" she demands. "God save you if this is some kind of trick."

I shake my head. "No, no—no trick. I just want you to look your best. Just stay with me here. Back in position." I adjust a few settings on the camera and hold it up to my eye.

Click!

The shutter noise and the bright flash cause the three girls to jump back in shock.

"What was that light?"

"Did it come from the mirror?"

"I think I may be blind!"

I smile. Wait till they see what I've done.

"Okay, the magic mirror has captured your image in its aura. Now you shall see yourself, caught in its mystical eye." I motion for my model to come over to me. She hesitantly steps forward, her eyes wide and looking more than a bit scared.

"I see green spots," she says, "dancing in front of my eyes. Did you blind me, witch?"

"Nah, that goes away in a minute. Don't worry," I assure her. "Do you want to see your picture—er, reflection—or not?"

I hold out the digital camera, turning it so she can see the LCD screen on the back. She takes it in her hands and stares down at her image. Her eyes widen, and suddenly she's squealing in a mix of delight and horror. She throws the camera back at me, as if it were a hot potato, and runs to the other side of the room.

The other two girls crowd in behind me to see what has frightened their friend so much.

"'Tis her!"

"Captured in the mirror!"

"How is it possible?"

"She looks beautiful!"

"I want a turn!"

"No, I am first."

"No, me!"

I grin. Mission accomplished. I'm in with the in crowd. Accepted, safe. Bed, bath, and beyond.

Chrissie, one. Medieval fashionistas, zero. If only Kat could see me now!

That night there's to be a banquet in the main hall, celebrating some random saint or another, and I'm to attend as a guest of honor. Which is pretty cool, actually. I mean, obviously I've never been invited to a fancy party held in a medieval castle before. (No, my friend's second-grade birthday party at Medieval Times does
not
count.) If I'm going to experience 12th-century life, I might as well experience it to the fullest. And since I've already done the sleeping on the stone-cold ground as an outlaw in the forest thing, I think it's about time to see how the other half lives.

At least, this is what my Pollyanna inner voice tries to convince me. The devil on my shoulder is a lot less interested in the whole deal. Truth be told, I miss Sherwood Forest. I miss the Merry Men…

Ah, who am I trying to fool here? I miss Robin. Plain and simple. And I can't help obsessing over what's going on with him and Marian. Are they tucked away in his tent this very moment, making up for lost time with some wild and crazy sex? Or are they cuddling in one another's arms, vowing eternal devotion? Does Robin think of me at all as he traces her soft, white cheek with his callused finger? Does he wonder where I went? Does he even notice I'm gone?

Did I do the right thing? Should I have stayed, fought for Robin? No. If you love someone, you have to let them go.

If Robin comes back to me, he'll be mine forever.

Yeah, right. I'm so not holding my breath for that one.

"Princess Christine," Susan, the blonde, says, coming into the sitting room. "We must get you dressed."

Heh. Princess Christine. I kind of like the sound of that.

I push all outlaw thoughts from my brain and follow Susan into one of the bedrooms. She presents me with a gorgeous gown and explains it's mine to wear to the feast. It's made of the palest blue silk and has tiny crystals seeded into the embroidered sleeves. It's so delicate—ladylike—that I just know I'll end up spilling mead all down the front of it before the night is over. And sadly, stain-removing Clorox Bleach Pens have yet to be invented.

I don the dress and Elaine, the brunette, combs and braids my unruly hair. Then Avelyn, the redhead, drapes a silver necklace around my neck. Susan grabs my hand to slip a few chunky, bejeweled rings on my fingers.

"So, where is this kingdom of Hoboken that you come from?" Avelyn asks as she combs.

"Yes, you speak with such a strange tongue. It must be very far," says Elaine. "I have never heard anyone talk as you do."

"Oh, yeah. It's far. Really far. Across a huge sea." And oceans of time, too, but we don't need to go into all of that.

"How did you get here?" Avelyn queries, draping a matching cloak over my shoulders and attaching it under my neck with an intricate silver dragon pin. "Was it by magic?"

I think for a moment before answering, then nod my head. What the heck, right? Might as well keep up the mystique I've built up. "Yes. The matchmaker in my…kingdom…cast a spell and sent me here to find my true love."

The girls' eyes all light at the mention of true love. So predictable. Who cares about magic when you've got potential hooking up to talk about?

"I daresay you'll have trouble finding it in
this
castle," Elaine says with an exaggerated sigh. "Your matchmaker should have sent you to France."

"Oh? I figured there'd be tons of guys around. I mean, even that knight earlier. The one who brought me up here. He was pretty good-looking."

"Aye. There are many handsome knights residing in the castle, but most are disinterested in courting a lady." Avelyn shrugs. "They'd rather rut with village girls on flea-infested bales of hay than chastely pursue royal ladies worthy of their love."

"'Tis not the knights' fault," argues Susan. "Prince John has ruled that they must not approach us. He enjoys the idea of having a castle filled with virgin brides, should he ever decide to take a wife."

"That seems kind of unfair to you guys," I say. Wow. None of these women have ever hooked up with a guy? No wonder they're so catty. "Wait till King Richard comes back," I comfort. "I'm sure he'll sort everything out."

"It seems King Richard will never return." Elaine sighs. "He rots in that Austrian prison, for no one is interested in paying his ransom. They'd rather throw banquets and stuff themselves like pigs."

"We are ladies-in-waiting. And so we wait," says Susan in a long-suffering voice. "We will likely die virgins, never knowing a man's love."

I roll my eyes. "That's dumb. You shouldn't have to sacrifice your happiness just on the prince's whim."

I realize all three of them are staring at me.

"Well, it's true!" I protested. "You choose to be here. To live like this. No one's holding a, uh, sword to your head."

Susan stares at me. "Choose?" she repeats. "What choice do we have? To leave the castle and live in the village like commoners? Brown our skin and sleep in thatched-roof huts?"

"Hey, all choices have consequences," I tell her. "You have to decide what you want in life. And what you're willing to sacrifice to get it."

The chimes of a faraway bell effectively end the discussion, and the girls squeal and scamper off to their respective chambers. Evidently that's the call to dinner, and none of them are ready. They chatter excitedly as they don dresses and add accessories at a frantic pace. I feel like I'm in some kind of medieval sorority or something. I wouldn't admit this to anyone back home in the 21
st
century, but the whole thing is kind of cool. After all, I've never been the giggling, girly girl type before. I always insisted they were too mainstream. Still, after a month of eunuch-dom in a filthy forest, hanging with the girls is kind of fun.