Page 11 of Legacy of Thorns
Or was her certainty that he was hiding something merely an excuse—a reason to watch him constantly? It was certainly no hardship to look at him. He moved with a lithe grace that was mesmerizing, and she didn’t doubt he was a skilled fighter. One of his birth gifts had clearly been grace.
She tore her eyes away from him when she realized the direction of her thoughts. She was alone in a kingdom that was no longer familiar—alone if she didn’t count her new friends, and she wasn’t completely sure she should count them yet—and she couldn’t afford to be distracted by an attractive face.
But what if it wasn’t a distraction but a genuine instinct for trouble? The question kept her awake for some time after they had said goodnight and climbed into their bedrolls. And she noticed that while Nisha and Morrow were both snoring quickly, there were no sounds of sleep from Finley either.
Chapter 5
Finley
Daphne had been watching him all evening. Surreptitiously, but she was watching. Why? Did she suspect something?
Finley turned in his bedroll, frustrated that he couldn’t get comfortable. They were so close. It would only take one more day to reach Archie, and he was sure Daphne would help them when they did. Mostly sure.
If she didn’t…His eyes drifted to the boots beside his makeshift bed. They still concealed the tiny dagger he had taken from the old man’s desk.
He would do his absolute best to persuade Daphne to help willingly, but if she wouldn’t…Well, there was another use for the famous Oakden sleeping herb beyond the sleeping potions made and sold to doctors. When it was infused into the blades of weapons, those weapons could send someone to sleep with the smallest prick.
Not permanently, of course. Finley had no desire to harm Daphne. He wouldn’t even have lied to her if it wasn’t for his brother.
If the herbalist who used to live south of Ethelson—the one who had sold Finley his old dagger—had still been in his oldworkshop, Finley wouldn’t have had to take a dagger at all. But the herbalist was gone. From the look of his house, he had been driven away by a fire, so it wasn’t likely he was coming back. And Finley needed the advantage an Oakdenian blade could provide.
As always, he had done what he had to do to keep his brother safe. And yet, it was a long time before he managed to drop to sleep.
The next morning, he woke abruptly with the dawn as he always did. He was used to waking up first among their group, but this time one bedroll was already empty. Daphne’s.
Finley sat up, immediately alert. Had she waited for the rest of them to fall asleep so she could run from them in the night? What had tipped her off?
But a moment’s reflection calmed his anxiety. If she had fled, she would have taken her bedroll and pack.
So where was she? He pulled on his boots, considering the possibilities. Despite the presence of her possessions, he wouldn’t rest easy until he had seen the girl herself.
He prowled through the trees, moving noiselessly as he listened for any sign of another person. He could hear none. That didn’t mean she wasn’t there, though. Like Finley, Daphne had received the birth gift of grace, and if her beauty was any indication, the Legacy’s power had been strong at the time of her birth.
The slightest rustle of leaves met his ears, and he tensed. The rustle sounded again, and he turned in its direction, catching sight of movement through the trees. As he crept closer, Daphne came into view.
She stood in a small clearing set back from the road and didn’t appear to notice his approach. Her focus was turned inward as she glided through a practiced series of long, flowing movements.
Finley’s brows rose as he watched her. He knew those movements. He had done them himself, morning after morning, holding each one until his muscles quivered with the strain. They were more difficult than they appeared, although Daphne made them look easy and smooth. She was completing the solitary practice dance of a fighter who had no companion to spar with.
For a girl so prone to naps, she was a master at the training dance, and apparently an early riser as well. Finley guessed she must start every day the same way. At every turn, she grew more fascinating.
And more appealing. He was honest enough to admit that, even if he knew his acquaintance with the girl from Glandore was about to come to an abrupt end.
But it hadn’t ended yet.
Before he had consciously decided to do so, his body moved forward. Emerging from the trees, he slid into the space beside her, mirroring her current movement.
She nodded slightly to acknowledge his presence but didn’t pause. He had expected her to be startled, but she responded as if she’d known he was there the whole time. Perhaps she had.
He joined her pattern, moving through the oft-practiced poses with ease. He was taller than Daphne, so at first he had to work to stay aligned with her pace, but he soon fell into the rhythm of it.
As the minutes ticked by, Finley’s muscles began to ache, twitching as he tried to hold himself steady. Daphne, however, neither faltered nor slowed. Finley hadn’t been practicing enough lately.
He pushed on anyway, realizing how much he had missed it. The stillness of the morning seeped into him, relaxing his worries of the night before. The repetitive movements and even the strain of his muscles had a meditative effect. Or maybe itwas the girl at his side who made the experience so peaceful. Enclosed by the trees, at the cusp of the day, they felt alone in the kingdoms, and he felt each one of her deep, even breaths as if it was his own.
Did she feel his? Did she feel the unexpected communion of the shared moment? Would she still feel it when it came time for him to ask for forgiveness?
He straightened abruptly, breaking the flow of the movements only beats before the training dance ended. Daphne glided to a more gentle close, gazing at him quizzically.
