Prince John, that shitgibbon! Marian was still not over the ways she'd had to play nice with him in that house, or about the ways he'd been so privy to her private moments.
And now look at poor Robin, who could barely open his eyes, who had blood drying in the cracks of his skin. He could have killed you, Marian thought, but didn't say. They were being positive, after all. Weren't they all doing that? Pretending that everything was safe even though Robin was the evidence that it was a delusion.
What if it had been one of Tuck's kids instead?
Marian forced herself to stop thinking of it, and focused on what was to be done now.
"Lean on me," Marian said as she helped draw him up, letting him choose how to hold onto her and where to put his arms. Marian was stronger than her looks would suggest, and Robin knew that. "I have you."