Page 59 of Legacy of Thorns
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He had to know it wasn’t going to be that simple. But she could see on his face that he was going to try anyway. For Archie—and for her.
“I’m sorry, Daphne.” He pulled her closer again, kissing her firmly and quickly—like a seal but also a farewell. “I love you.”
Archer’s mouth dropped open, but Finley was already clapping him on the shoulder.
“Look after her for me, Archie.”
He strode away, heading back toward the house. Daphne watched him go, oddly numb.
Archer seized her arm, his voice urgent. “What’s going on, Daphne?”
She turned to him, plans forming in her mind. “We have to follow him.”
“I still don’t understand where he’s going,” Archer said, eyeing her doubtfully, “but do you really think we can drag him back if he’s determined to go?”
“No, that could be disastrous. But we can hide nearby and watch what happens, at least. I need to see how Barlowe treats him. I need to see if he’s a prisoner or a guest.”
“A prisoner?” Archer asked in alarm. “Who is this Barlowe?”
Daphne hesitated. “Come on. We need to get moving. We have to stay in the trees, so we’ll have to take a longer route to reach the front of the manor. I’ll explain as we walk.”
It wasn’t the ideal setting for telling Archie the truth about his past, but she couldn’t keep it from him. As they walked she told him everything they had learned about and from Barlowe—including the true identity of Archer’s father. To her surprise, he accepted it easily, responding with a grin.
“Father always told me I was special—that Fin and I both were. Fin thought it was empty talk, but I knew better. I never dreamed I was a prince, though!”
“Your father was,” Daphne corrected. “I don’t think you are—officially speaking. You have cousins who are princes and princesses, though.”
Archer waved her objections away with an airy hand. “Officialisn’t what matters here. I’m a prince!” He sobered. “But I would like to officially register my objection to Fin putting himself in the power of this Barlowe. He doesn’t sound at all trustworthy.”
“He’s not,” Daphne said flatly.
“Then why did you let Fin go?” Archer exclaimed.
Daphne gave him a look, and he sighed. “Fine, you did your best.” His eyes darted back to her. “What was that back there, by the way? Between you and Fin. What exactly happened at that ball?”
Daphne flushed. “That’s not what’s important right now.”
Archer looked like he wanted to argue, but something caught his eye, and he froze, grabbing her arm.
“Look!” His exclamation was whisper quiet.
Between the trees, they could just see the manor’s front drive and its ornate gates. The gates themselves were merely decorative, since the manor had no surrounding wall, but the road from the manor to the village ran through them. Passingthrough the gates, moving in the direction of the village, was a group of people.
Daphne barely held in her exclamation of dismay. Barlowe strode alone at the front of a collection of rough men, and in their center walked a single straight figure. Finley looked unharmed from a distance, but his hands were tied and two men flanked him, their hands on his shoulders.
Archie growled, and Daphne only just managed to dive forward and catch at him before he launched himself out of the trees after his brother.
“No!” she whispered fiercely. “No, you can’t! Look at how many of them there are! You’d have no hope on your own. We have to go back to Morrow and Nisha. Together we can come up with a plan to free him.”
Archer’s body remained taut, his muscles straining as he leaned toward Finley. But he didn’t use his full strength to break free, and as the seconds ticked by, he slowly relaxed. He still looked mutinous, though, and his eyes hadn’t left Finley.
Daphne blew out a slow breath. She would have liked to race out there and attack Barlowe herself, but she didn’t intend to hand him Archer along with Finley. Finley might have told Archer to look after Daphne, but it was Daphne he was trusting to make sensible decisions.
She kept a tight grip on Archer’s arm as she crept closer, keeping within the shadow of the trees. A carriage drew up just beyond the gate, but her spark of hope was immediately extinguished when the driver nodded at Barlowe. The two exchanged a few murmured words she couldn’t catch before Barlowe turned to look at Finley. Fin met his eyes defiantly.
“Yes, yes, you quite detest me. I know.” Barlowe’s voice carried in the still night air. “But it’s safer this way.” He smiled. “For me, at least.”
He looked at his men. “Given the look in young Finley’s eyes, I think we could do with a little insurance. If you head for the trees, I’m confident you’ll find the girl from the ball hiding there, watching us. Find her and bring her to me.”
