Page 16 of Legacy of Thorns
Daphne snorted as inelegantly as possible. “Aren’t you fourteen?”
Awake, she was doubting that estimate, though. Archer puffed out his chest and rejected the suggestion with force.
“I’m sixteen and more than old enough to court a beautiful lady.”
Daphne’s eyes widened, and she let out a crack of disbelieving laughter. Court?
She looked desperately back at Finley, but he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Earlier, she had been too frustrated with herself to have much anger left for him, but this time a wave of outrage swept through her.
Clearly Finley, unlike Daphne, hadn’t forgotten his old school lessons. Those unfortunates who fell prey to the Oaken Legacy’s enchanted sleep fancied themselves in love with the person who woke them—a fancy that was strengthened by the Legacy. And while the Legacy couldn’t actually control someone’s actions—or even thoughts—those who were susceptible could fall prey to its influence. And apparently Finley’s sixteen-year-old brother was extremely susceptible to falling in love.
She glared at Finley, but he brushed past her, seizing his brother in a choking embrace. “Archie! Do you have to play the fool every time I leave? What were you thinking?”
Archer grinned and clapped Finley on the back, but when he pulled away, his eyes flashed to Daphne.
“I’m sixteen now, brother,” he said. “I’m too old to be called Archie.”
“Oho,” Finley said. “I’ll believe that when you stop getting yourself into scrapes and needing your big brother to come to the rescue.”
“Actually,” Archer said, “it was an angel who rescued me this time, not you, Fin.”
“And who do you think brought the angel to you?” Finley asked dryly.
“Don’t call me an angel,” Daphne said firmly, “unless you want me to start calling you Archie as well.”
Archer straightened. “Of course not, my?—”
“Don’t call me a lady either,” Daphne said promptly.
“Then what should I call you?” The twinkle in his eyes reminded her too much of Finley.
“Nothing,” she said. “You’re awake now, which means I’m leaving. And with any luck, I’ll never see either of you again.”
“No!” Archer seized her hand and gazed soulfully at her from eyes that resembled a puppy’s. “You can’t mean that. Unnamed Lady, you wouldn’t leave me when I’ve just found you!”
“Her name is Daphne,” Finley said from behind Archer.
The suppressed laugh in his voice made Daphne glare daggers at him. It would serve him right if she dumped him on his rear for getting her into such a ridiculous situation. Except she’d seen his experience with the training dance, and she was afraid it might take more effort than she was willing to expend.
“Is he awake?” Morrow called hopefully through the barn door, and Archer finally let go of her hand.
“Morrow!” He bounded out of the stall and toward the bear of a man.
Morrow pulled him into a rough hug, pounding him on the back with such force that Daphne winced involuntarily.
“The lad’s awake, Nisha!” Morrow called through the open barn door, and Nisha appeared in the gap.
She held out a hand to Archer, who had managed to disentangle himself from Morrow. Archer seized Nisha’s forearm with a grin, and she grasped his back, their grips firm as they nodded at each other.
“Nisha isn’t really a hugger,” Finley murmured beside Daphne.
She wheeled around to glare at him, her eyes narrowed almost to slits. “You knew this was going to happen.”
Finley ran a hand down the back of his head. “I knew it was a possibility. Archer is a romantic at heart, and you are very beautiful.” His words sounded too apologetic to be a compliment.
“I’m also nineteen!” she hissed. “I don’t want a sixteen-year-old boy following me around and confessing his enchanted love. Rejecting him is like kicking a puppy!”
“I see you understand how he manages to make my life so difficult,” Finley murmured. “And how he has Morrow, and even Nisha, twisted around his little finger.”
