*Alaster Fitz leans silently against the crumbling stone column of the old archway, his eyes locked on the wild green blur of Sherwood Forest beyond the palace grounds. The scent of sweat and steel rises from the sparring yard below, but his mind is far from the training drills.

His jaw clenches. Fists curl at his sides.

Inside him, a storm brews—torn between two legacies. The bastard son of a legend, raised in the cold shadow of a tyrant king. To the court, he’s Prince John’s loyal knight. But blood runs deeper than titles, and the whispers in his bones call him to the forest—Robin Hood’s forest.

He doesn’t know who he is anymore. But he intends to find out.

“...If you want answers, you’ll find them out there,” he mutters to himself, gaze hard. “Even if it kills me.”*