Who does that vile diva think she is, assaulting people that politely decline invitations?

  I stormed down the narrow dirt road that wound through Sherwood, my cheek still smarting from the blow Margaretta had given me. Ronan followed a step behind, silent. The annoyance that radiated off of him only fuelled my angry march as we approached the gate of the chapel.

  I pushed the gate open, stepping onto the chapel’s grounds. Friar Tuck’s dogs barked and crowded me, nudging my hands and headbutting my legs, begging for attention.

  The chapel was really just a rectangular building in the middle of a yard surrounded by a stone wall. It was not very large, surrounded by ferns and patches of wild grasses and flowers and little boulders and such.

  Friar Tuck stepped out a side door of the chapel. He was an older man, being in his sixties, and both rather plump and nearly bald.

  “Missy, Tag, Belle, what’s all this commotion? Ah. Come in you two, I’ll get some ice.”

  He waved us in, a tired expression settling on his face.

  The inside of the cottage was plain and practical, with no hallways. Instead, each room led into the next in a confusing maze to those who didn’t know the chapel well. The room we entered was the library, full of shelves of real paper books and comfy chairs.

  I dropped the bags I carried on the floor and sat in the nearest chair, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Did Margaretta get to you?” Friar Tuck asked.

  “Who does she think she is?” I muttered. “The queen of Sherwood?”

  “You let her hit you.” Ronan said, raising an eyebrow at me. “It is your fault. She will go after you relentlessly now that she knows you will not retaliate.”

  “And what was I supposed to do? Stab her in the chest?”

  “You could have at least deflected the blow,” Ronan said as he set down his own bags, stretching.

  “I’ll fetch some ice for that bruise,” Friar Tuck said, slipping out of the room.

  “And offend her even more? Do you know how much trouble I would get in if I had so much as scratched Margaretta?”

  “She attacked you,” Ronan said, his voice darkening as he took a step closer. “You failed to protect yourself, and you have the nerve to blame her for it? This is entirely your fault! Stop sniveling and storming around because of your own failures!”

  I stood, angry tears burning in my eyes. “You don’t understand. I can’t just do whatever I want! Leave me alone!”

  I spun on my heels, storming out of the room as tears slid down my cheeks, blurring my vision.

  “Oof!”

  I smacked into Friar Tuck, stumbling back.

  “Sorry, sorry,” I said, wiping away my tears with the sleeve of my dress.

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  “Ah, no need. Here’s your ice.”

  Friar Tuck handed me the ice pack, then pushed my hair back to see the full extent of the bruise.

  “She got you good,” he commented as I pressed the ice pack to my cheek.

  “I didn’t think she’d actually do it.”

  “Margaretta’s changed, and not for the better. I’d stay away from her if I were you. And I see she’s not the only one who’s changed.” Friar Tuck said as he pulled my hair back farther, studying my pointed ear.

  ***

  I touched my cheek as I studied my reflection in the mirror. My entire left cheek was one big black-and-blue bruise and ached if I touched it or moved my mouth too much.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” I muttered, unsure if I was describing the actions of myself, Margaretta, or Ronan. Perhaps all three.

  I took a step back, stumbling over a stack of books on the floor.

  The room Friar Tuck gave me was tiny, just big enough for a bed, a small wardrobe, and a narrow desk. Stacks upon stacks of books filled every square inch or the space left. Under the bed and desk, in the deep-set windowsill, in stacks nearly as tall as I was against the walls, and a few stacks to decorate the bare wood floor. The small mirror hanging above the desk, the threadbare curtains hanging in the window, and a simple tapestry of a fairy circle were the room’s only decorations. Very fitting for what should have housed another friar rather than a guest.

  I straightened my dress and slipped out of the room, into the living room. It was also full of books, housed in bookshelves rather than stacks on the floor, and contained five doors. Four leading to the bedrooms, all identical to mine, and one leading into the kitchen. That door was open, and I could hear Friar Tuck bustling about inside.

  I followed the sound of the friar’s humming, the scraping of metal on metal, and the smell of eggs and sausage cooking.

  “Good morning,” I said as I stepped into the kitchen.

  “Ah, just in time for breakfast,” Friar Tuck said as he scraped eggs from a cast-iron skillet onto three plates. “It looks to be a very busy day.”

  I grabbed a plate and sat at the kitchen table. “Did you find anything?”

  Ronan stalked into the kitchen, joining me at the table without a word. He blinked slowly, like a cat just woken from its nap.

  Friar Tuck handed Ronan a plate, then sat down at the remaining seat at the head of the table.

  “I am afraid I found nothing more than what you discovered. Myths of humans wielding magic and myths explaining why we no longer can use magic.”

  I nodded slowly. “Is there anywhere else we could look? You couldn’t possibly find everything in one afternoon of searching. This place is bursting with all the old paper books.”

  “You know I have a database I can use to find things,” Friar Tuck said as he poured himself a glass of water. “After you explained the situation, I did a very thorough search.”

  How are we supposed to figure out what’s wrong with us now? How am I supposed to get back to normal?

  I felt a lump form in my throat as tears pricked my eyes. I blinked them away.

  “Is there anything we can do?”

  My voice quivered slightly as the world around me began to slowly crumble away. I was an outcast before, not strong enough to be of any real use, not good enough compared to my brother and Will and Little John and Marian and the others. With this fey ear and markings… I wouldn’t be able to hide it forever, and when people found out there would be trouble for Robin. I would probably have to leave Sherwood, my home. I would be entirely and completely alone.

  And Ronan had also seemed to develop strange powers… would I soon gain magic too? What if I couldn’t control it, or it consumed me, like the myths described happening to those not fit to yield magic?

  “There is one thing you can do.”

  My head snapped up as I gripped the table. “What is it? I’ll do it. A ritual? Or do you need me to steal a book?”

  “There is a ceremony happening tonight,” Friar Tuck explained. “The barrier between the fey world and the human world will be at its thinnest. We can offer a prayer to the fey you saw in your visions, and she might be willing to grant us some answers.”

  “It’s worth trying,” Ronan said with a yawn.

  Friar Tuck nodded. “We will need to make sure everything is perfect. Wren, Ronan, I will need both of you to help prepare.”

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