Page 39 of Legacy of Thorns
When she dropped asleep halfway through a short trip to hunt for spring greens, she finally put the question to Fin and Archer.
“Have you noticed that I’m napping more?” she asked as they continued through the forest, searching for anything that could supplement their food supplies.
“You’re perfect just the way you are,” Archer quickly assured her.
Daphne sighed. Surely his infatuation should have dwindled to nothing in so much time?
Thankfully Fin took her question more seriously. “I think you might be. You napped twelve times yesterday.”
Despite the seriousness of the topic, Daphne had to bite back a smile. It had actually only been ten. The day had been wet, keeping them all trapped in the cabin, and two of the naps had been entirely faked—her only recourse to stop herself from snapping at poor Archer who had hovered at her elbow in the small space all day.
A sudden whoop from Archer made her startle, but he didn’t notice, peeling away from them to pursue a patch of green some distance away. As he harvested a cluster of spring onion, Fin turned to Daphne, his voice quiet.
“Does it worry you? Your napping. I’ve noticed you don’t talk about it much.”
Of course he’d noticed.
Daphne shifted uncomfortably, but his earnest, patient expression—so different from his usual twinkle—undid her. She had been worrying about the Legacy’s hold on her for weeks, and for once she longed to unburden herself. What would it feel like to share the load with someone whose broad shoulders could carry the weight?
“I can still remember being normal as a child,” she said, “before we left Oakden. But sometimes it feels like thosememories are fading. Like I’m losing the last piece of who I was before the Legacy twisted me.”
Finley’s brow creased, his eyes worried. “Twisted?”
Daphne held up a hand to stop him, not wanting to hear whatever pacifying compliment might come next.
“Ever since the naps started, I’ve assumed that once I turned eighteen and was able to return to Oakden, the fatigue would lift. I thought I would have a chance to be free.”
“But they haven’t gone away,” Finley said softly. “They’re getting worse. The Legacy hasn’t released you after all.” His jaw tensed. “It’s because of me, isn’t it? Because I made you wake Archie and entangled you in our problems.”
Seeing his distress, Daphne felt a shot of longing to be able to repudiate his words—to deny it had anything to do with him. But the words would have been hollow, and he would have known it.
“I don’t blame you,” she said instead. “You didn’t know. You were just trying to save your brother.”
“Archer!” Morrow’s loud yell made Daphne turn away, blinking to drive back the tears.
“I need your help!” Morrow bellowed again.
Archer jogged toward them, dropping the greens he’d collected into the basket at Daphne’s feet. He hesitated at sight of her, her face still turned away, but Morrow called again, and Archer gave a frustrated sigh.
“I’ll be right back,” he promised and jogged off.
Daphne and Fin listened to his retreating steps in silence, distantly hearing the murmur of voices as he reached Morrow.
“You’re doing it again,” Fin said, the annoyance in his voice making Daphne’s eyes spring back to him.
“Excuse me?” she snapped, stung. Hadn’t she just absolved him of blame?
“It wasn’t your parents’ fault then, and it isn’t my fault now,” he said, a little more heat creeping into his voice. “Why are you so desperate to let us all off the hook?”
“And why are you so desperate for me to wallow in pointless resentment and bitterness like you?” She glared at him, cracks running through her control. “Has it made you happy, Fin? Has it changed the past or Archer’s situation? Has it achieved anything at all except to make you and everyone around you miserable?”
Fin sucked in a breath, his eyes widening. “I make you miserable?”
“No,” Daphne said quickly, putting her hand up to shield her eyes. “That was too much. I didn’t mean to say that. I’m not…I don’t usually…” Where had her usual calm acceptance of life gone? Why did Finley provoke so much intense feeling in her?
She lowered her hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said quickly, and if he was still feeling hurt at her words, he’d hidden it away where she couldn’t see. “I want you to let out your feelings. Repressing them only does you a disservice. Eventually, they’ll come bursting out anyway.”
