Page 1 of Legacy of Thorns
Prologue
“It’s that one.” Nisha pointed at a large house with an attached yard.
The house in question bordered a deserted lane, which increased the possibilities for entry, but Finley still hesitated. When he didn’t move, Nisha took the lead, marching down the lane. Finley followed far enough to find a secluded vantage point that still allowed him to watch the main street.
When a middle-aged woman hurried past the entry of the lane, a bag in her hand, Finley drew himself up. He glanced at Nisha.
“Are you sure this is worth it?” he asked. “It won’t help Archie if I end up getting caught.”
“I’m not at all sure,” Nisha said matter-of-factly. “But you asked for the best lead I have, and that’s it.” She pointed at the house again. “The housekeeper wouldn’t say where the old man has gone, but he may have left some record of his destination in the house.”
“But you’re sure the housekeeper is the only one living there at the moment?”
Nisha shrugged. “That’s what I heard. Can’t say for certain.”
Finley closed his eyes and drew a long breath. He should have known better than to seek empty reassurances from someone as literal as Nisha. He already knew he was clutching at straws, but he couldn’t do nothing. Not when his younger brother was counting on him.
“Hold on, Archie,” he muttered as he ducked down the lane and swung himself over the fence, “we’ll be coming for you just as soon as we can.”
Inside the yard, he found no sign of anyone. He chose to take it as a positive sign that the housekeeper had indeed been the only one left in the large house.
Retrieving the lock picks that he kept in the lining of his jacket, he set to work on the back door. It didn’t take long for it to click open. He slipped inside, closing it gently behind him without making a sound. As far as he knew, he was alone, but old habits were hard to shake.
He prowled through the house, peering into various rooms until he came to a large study. A cold fireplace occupied a central place along one wall with several comfortable chairs drawn up before it. The rest of the wall space was covered in bookshelves.
The room had the kind of cozy, appealing vibe that was foreign to Finley after the last six years. But it also had a large desk, standing proud in the center of the room, and he went straight for it.
“What do you have hidden away in here, old man?” he murmured as he tried the drawers.
Only two were locked, and he immediately focused on them, making short work of the first lock with his picks. The drawer held bundles of letters, but one glance showed their age. They wouldn’t have any bearing on the old man’s current location, and as soon as Finley realized they were love letters between the man and his deceased wife, he threw them down as if burned. Hewas there to invade one portion of the man’s private life and one portion only.
He took the time to re-lock the drawer before unpicking the other. At first glance, the second drawer was an even greater disappointment, with not a single paper in sight. But Finley’s eyes lingered on the locked drawer’s only contents anyway: a miniature dagger in its own scabbard. Why would the old man have bothered to lock up a tiny dagger?
Finley’s eyes focused in on the intricately crafted hilt, his eyes narrowing. With a soft indrawn breath, he scooped it up, his expression turning eager.
A closer inspection only increased his certainty. He recognized the work. That particular dagger hadn’t come from a weapons master but a herbalist. And that meant it was no ordinary dagger.
His hand closed around the hilt, acting before his mind was fully made up. It wasn’t a replacement for his own full-sized dagger—a beautiful weapon whose loss he grieved daily. But it would certainly go some way toward making up the shortfall.
With a slight shake of his head, he stashed the dagger in his boot. The miniature size made it perfect for such a hiding place, and he suspected it had been made with that in mind.
Now to look through the papers in the unlocked drawers. Hopefully one of them would give some hint of the reasons for the old man’s precipitous departure—and more importantly, where he could be found.
A sound in the corridor made Finley freeze. He hadn’t heard the front door, but someone was definitely in the house. Before he had time to conceal himself, a hand pushed the study door fully open, and someone stepped inside.
He’d been caught.
Chapter 1
Daphne
Daphne gazed across the river at the far bank. Oakden. The kingdom where she had been born and, therefore, the kingdom whose Legacy had claimed her. She hadn’t seen it in twelve years.
Daphne had spent all twelve of those years knowing she would one day return. Given how deeply the claws of Oakden’s Legacy were sunk in her, it had never seemed like a choice. And yet she lingered on the Sovaran side of the river. She was traveling alone, and the carriage which had brought her this far had already departed, so there was no one to see her uncharacteristic moment of cowardice.
She yawned, eyeing a nearby patch of soft-looking grass. Her mind was sharp enough, but if she lay down on the grass, she would be asleep instantly. It had been like that for the last twelve years—ever since she had dared to leave Oakden. The Oakden Legacy had punished her for her departure by saddling her with the constant burden of sleepiness. None of the Legacies approved of their citizens leaving the bounds of their birth kingdoms.
Resentment surged up, but Daphne took a deep breath and let it drain back out. She had long ago rejected resentment—ifshe hadn’t, it would have swallowed her whole years ago. What was the point in railing against something she was powerless to change?
