Page 60 of Legacy of Thorns
Fin shouted in outrage and tried to lunge at Barlowe, but the men on either side of him held him back.
“Archer,” Daphne said, already backing up. “We have to run. Now!”
She whirled and fled blindly into the trees. Already she could hear footsteps behind them—Barlowe’s men had spread out and two of them had lucked on the right direction.
“There!” one shouted, sounding close behind. They’d caught sight of her pink dress through the trees.
The pace of the pursuing footsteps picked up, and more joined them, converging from further back. Daphne risked a quick look behind, just as Archer’s long legs overtook her. He checked his pace, and she tried to wave him on. He didn’t respond, matching his steps to hers.
“Go!” she gasped out. “Run as fast as you can. Don’t worry about me!”
He continued to keep pace beside her.
She tried to increase her own speed, but she was already sprinting as fast as she dared through the trees. Behind her, the steps were getting closer. They didn’t have enough of a head start.
“Keep going,” Archer shouted, wheeling around and coming to a stop, facing their pursuers.
“Archer!” Daphne slowed and turned. Was he planning to hold them off while she escaped?
She couldn’t let him.
Or maybe that was their only hope. If she could get away and reach Morrow and Nisha, they could rescue both brothers. She should keep running.
But her feet didn’t listen to logic. She couldn’t leave Archer to face them alone. Her trembling fingers drew out her mask and tied it back onto her face. It was probably a futile gesture, but the concealment gave her a thin layer of false confidence.
She took one step toward Archer before her mind seized, a wave of exhaustion hitting so heavily that her legs gave way. She sank onto the forest floor, barely registering that her eyes were fluttering closed.
Daphne came awake abruptly, pulled to her feet by rough hands. Her head spun at the rude awakening, her thoughts confused. She had never fallen asleep like that—in the middle of such a dire situation—and the nap had left her disoriented.
The hand holding her jerked her forward, and she stumbled. A second man seized her from the other side, steadying her as they pulled her along faster.
The terrified energy of her flight still coursed through her, and the thought of a nap strong enough to override it scared her more than even Barlowe and his ruffians. But she pushed that fear aside and took stock of the situation.
Archer had been seized as well and was being pulled along in the same direction. A cut on his arm bled sluggishly, but he still had his feet under him, and his head was turned in her direction. He looked relieved to see her awake.
“Look, boss,” one of the men called as they broke from the trees. “There were two of them.”
Finley groaned, his eyes running up and down both of them, checking for injuries. Daphne shook her head at him, not even sure what she was trying to communicate.
“Archer!” Barlowe exclaimed. “What an unexpected pleasure! This rather changes the picture.”
He looked speculatively between them as his men dragged their two new prisoners closer. “Archer is an even better hostagethan the girl since he can both ensure Finley’s compliance and also complete the necessary tasks himself if necessary.”
Archer met his brother’s eyes, his shoulders slumping as he mouthed the words, “I’m sorry.”
Finley lunged forward abruptly, trying to break his captor’s hold. He managed to tear himself free, lurching toward Barlowe until he came to an abrupt stop at the point of a sword. Barlowe held the tip steady against Finley’s chest, a smile still on his face.
For a horrible, unthinking second, Daphne expected him to run Finley through. But Barlowe’s wrist made only the smallest of lazy flicks, leaving a shallow scratch along the underside of Finley’s chin.
For a drawn-out moment, the two men stood looking at each other. Then Finley swayed.
Daphne flinched between her captors as he stumbled sideways once and slumped to the ground.
“Fin!” Archer struggled against his captors, but after Finley’s brief escape, they had taken Archer in an even firmer hold, and he couldn’t wrest himself free.
Barlowe turned toward him, his Oakdenian blade still held ready. Daphne watched, frozen, unable to think of a single thing to do to prevent what was coming.
“Don’t think we’ll help you now,” Archer spat out, glaring at the advancing Barlowe.
