Page 24 of Legacy of Thorns
“I heard Lord Castlerey outlawed woodcutting in this part of the forest years ago,” Nisha said around a mouthful. “The inhabitants were cutting from a valuable grove to the west, and he wanted time for it to regrow, so he ordered all the residents to relocate east of the town.”
“In that case, there should be little to no traffic around this area,” Daphne said hopefully. “It sounds like a perfect place to stay.”
Finley frowned. “You want to stay here?”
Daphne took a spoonful of stew. “It sounds more appealing than endless walking.” She gave a shudder. “Or worse—running.”
“And the people without compunction or morals who are dedicated to hunting us down?” Finley asked.
Daphne swallowed her mouthful, unconcerned. “From what I can gather, they’ve been chasing you across the kingdom for years. Running around doesn’t seem to have done you any good so far. Maybe you should try staying in one place.” She took a mouthful.
Archer chuckled. “When you put it like that…” His amusement died away. “It’s true that we haven’t been able to shake them, no matter what we’ve tried. Every time we think we’ve succeeded, they reappear. We once lost them for six whole months, but then…” He shook his head.
“Given your past behavior, they won’t expect you to stay in this area.” Daphne reached for a slice of bread. Staying would mean fresh bread to replace the single, stale loaf remaining from Ethelson.
Archer looked at Finley, his expression eager. “Given they couldn’t find us this afternoon, they must think we’ve already fled the area. I agree with Daphne—why should we hurry away?”
“Of course you agree with Daphne,” Finley muttered.
His scorn didn’t hurt because Daphne agreed with it. She would prefer any other champion than Archer. But aloud, she said calmly, “Let them search the rest of the kingdom while we sit here and come up with a better plan than running away from them for another three years.”
Finley looked at her, his face hard to read.
“Unless you like running and close escapes?” She twisted off a corner of bread and chewed it. “Personally, I’m not at all fond of either of those things.”
“It makes sense,” Nisha said after the silence had stretched out for nearly a minute. “And I wouldn’t mind a few nights in a proper bed.”
Daphne smiled, but her eyes lingered on Finley. His was the vote that counted most. Would he disagree just for the sake of it? He seemed like the kind of man who was used to coming up with the ideas, not meekly following the ideas of others.
But he gave a decisive nod, no sign of disagreement on his face. “We stay here for now, then.” He looked across the table at Morrow. “Unless you have any objection?”
Morrow shrugged. “Our coin won’t last forever.” He clapped his hands together. “But I’ve had an idea about that.” He turned to Archer. “How are you feeling about our new companion over there?” He gestured toward Daphne. “Still aglow with her magnificence?”
Daphne choked on her sip of water, but Morrow kept his gaze on Archer.
Archer grinned. “I’m aware of her perfection, yes.”
“Good!” Morrow clapped his hands together a second time and looked at Nisha. “In that case, we have an opportunity. TheLegacy hasn’t fully released him from its grip yet. Daphne might not be able to manipulate thorns anymore, but we still have a Sleeping Beauty in our midst.”
“I am quite beautiful, it’s true,” Archer said with a grin.
Nisha’s eyes narrowed, her speculative gaze lingering on him. “He was never much good at whittling, though.” She tipped her head slightly to one side. “He might cut off one of his fingers by accident.”
“I’m not that bad!” Archer protested with a laugh. “I made a very creditable horse for Fin’s birthday once.”
“That was a horse?” Fin looked genuinely surprised. “I always thought it was a dog.”
“A dog?!” Archer stared at him in offended horror. “Of course it wasn’t a dog. We’ve never had a dog. Why would I carve you a dog?”
Finley shrugged. “You’d obviously put in a lot of effort. I didn’t want to ask any questions.”
“Thankfully, spindles are easier than horses or dogs,” Morrow said, not distracted from his original purpose.
Archer turned back to him. “You want me to carve you a spindle, Morrow? Are you in need of some yarn? I’m happy to do it, of course, but you might have better luck whittling one yourself.” He threw Finley another wounded look, and Daphne hid a smile.
She would have laughed at the idea of Morrow needing yarn if she hadn’t spotted him packing away knitting needles on their first morning. Apparently his vast bulk didn’t inhibit the deftness of his fingers.
“It’s not for me, it’s to sell,” Morrow said. “We could always do with supplementing our coin supply.”
