Outlaw Princess of Sherwood by Nancy Springer Page A

try—” Etty heard her voice wavering, steadied it and started over. “I will try to come back to you.”
    They all stood looking at each other, but that could not go on forever. It was time. Etty turned to give her mother a hand, and Queen Elsinor began to dismount.
    â€œNo! No, keep the little Dove, take her with you,” Beau said all in a breath.
    Etty turned to her in astonishment. She knew how Beau adored Dove. “But she’s yours!”
    â€œNot so.” Impish thoughts glinted in Beau’s eyes. “She belongs to the stables of the high king.”
    Lionel complained, “Porridgehead, you’re an outlaw now! You’re dead if the king catches you.”
    â€œTrue. But there is scant forage for a pony in the wildwood,” Beau said. “Take her.” Beau’s eyes flashed up to Queen Elsinor’s pale face. “Good my lady, ride her into Celydon, do, and no one will call you a beggar.”
    So that was it.
    A royal gift, and Etty knew she had to swallow her pride and accept it. She gave the dark-eyed girl the nod of an equal. “Thank you.”
    Her mother echoed her words. “Beau, thank you.”
    â€œNo, my lady, no, Princess Ettarde, thank you .”
    Etty hugged Beau—finally it felt right to touch and hug this oddling. Then she put her arms around Rook, who stank—a pox on it; Etty hugged the wild boy anyway. And big, gentle Lionel got a long hug. And finally Rowan. Rowan Hood, mystic and healer, the one to whom they all looked as leader, although she considered herself their equal—Rowan was the hardest one to leave. Etty gave her a fierce embrace and turned away quickly.
    There. Celydon. Maidservants, baths, proper meals, rich gowns to wear—how miserable. Blinking, Etty laid a hand on Dove’s neck, looked up at her mother’s pale face, nodded and walked out of the forest.
    Rowan’s voice sounded behind her, grave and steady, as always. “Come back if you need us.”
    And Lionel called, his voice not nearly as steady, “You know your way. If you need us . . . my dear little lady.”
    Etty grinned, and knew she should tell him she was not his dear little lady, but she could not speak. She could barely see her way, what with tears stinging and blurring her eyes. She did not dare look back at her friends lest she break down altogether. But she lifted a hand to show that she had heard them, and leading her mother’s white pony, Princess Ettarde strode across sheep pasture toward Celydon.
    â€œ ‘Nothing lasts forever except change,’ ” Beau called to her from the forest she was leaving behind. “Heraclitus.”
    Confound the rascal. Etty smiled.

ALSO BY NANCY SPRINGER
    I AM MORDRED
A Tale from Camelot
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A Tale from Camelot
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    ROWAN HOOD
Outlaw Girl of Sherwood Forest
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    LIONCLAW
A Tale of Rowan Hood
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    RIBBITING TALES