Page 61 of Legacy of Thorns
Barlowe just smiled. “I think your brother will do whatever I ask if it means saving you.” He glanced toward the men holding me. “We don’t need her, after all. You can dispose of her in the forest.”
“What?!” Archer began a fresh round of pointless struggling against his captors until a fist in the stomach sent him onto his hands and knees, retching.
Barlowe paused, eyeing him in disgust. “Did you think I would leave her behind to run and warn that enormous bruteof yours? Or to go spilling my story to anyone who will listen? There’s no point in my having the castle if the truth gets out another way.” His eyes narrowed as he addressed his men again. “When you’ve dealt with her, find the other two and dispose of them as well.”
He stepped toward Archer, but a burst of light and sound from the manor door made him pause. Distant voices swirled around Daphne, background noise to her racing thoughts. She had one chance to get free, and if she failed, she died.
Chapter 20
Daphne
Daphne’s parents had trained her in self-defense, but she had little hope against the two burly men who held her on either side. There was, however, one thing Daphne did better than unarmed combat.
Sleep.
“What do we do, boss?” one of the men asked, his voice edgy. The noise and voices were growing louder.
Without waiting to hear Barlowe’s response, Daphne dropped into a nap, slumping toward the ground. She wasn’t really asleep, but she knew perfectly how to fake it, and her captors were taken completely off guard. Unprepared for her sudden dead weight, their grips faltered, and she collapsed into a heap on the road.
“She’s asleep again!” one of them exclaimed in disgust, just as a chaos of fresh voices broke over the scene, this time from the village side of the gate.
“Look! There!” shouted an unfamiliar man.
The words were followed by an enraged bellow that reminded Daphne strongly of Morrow. A barrage of orders, shouts, running feet, and carriage wheels flooded Daphne’s senses.
“To the carriage!”
“Get him in!”
“No! No! Forget that one!”
“Kill them all!”
The last made Daphne’s eyes spring open. She caught a glimpse of Barlowe, half hanging out the window of the moving carriage, shouting his orders back to the men he had left behind.
The ringing sound of drawn weapons came from above her, and she rolled forward, losing her mask in the process. Legs moved in all directions, and she jumped to her feet, several steps away from her captors.
Archer had already recovered from his retching and was on his feet as well, a dagger in his hand. When she popped up beside him, he seized her wrist, swinging her around so they stood back to back. Barlowe’s remaining men surrounded them, the circle drawing in closer as they took in Archer’s single blade and Daphne’s empty hands.
A wordless shout of challenge made the closing circle falter. The guests departing from the ball had stopped in confusion and were milling some distance away, but pounding feet sounded from the direction of the village, and the shout came again.
Archer grinned. “Morrow.”
Barlowe’s men sprang into action at the name, stampeding forward to seize Archer and Daphne. Daphne grabbed the arm of the first man, using his own momentum to send him spinning past her onto the ground.
As she twisted, she caught a glimpse of the approaching runners, one head standing out above the others, the man’s shoulders drawing as much attention as his height. At his side ran a slim woman with a blade in both hands.
Daphne didn’t have time to smile before she faced her next attacker, and this one carried a sword. Using the long blade toprotect himself, he seized her, holding her against his chest with an arm around her neck, like a human shield.
Another of Barlowe’s men approached them, his own blade held threateningly in their direction.
“I’ll be taking her,” he growled, making it obvious why he had turned on his comrade. There weren’t enough hostages to go around.
Her captor spat something in reply, and Daphne seized his momentary distraction to bite down hard on his hand. He screamed and pulled back. Using the same maneuver as she had used on Fin all those weeks ago, Daphne threw him over her shoulder—directly into the second man.
“Morrow!” she screamed as she ran toward the approaching rescue party. “Nisha!”
Two of the remaining men were fighting Archer, but another lunged forward, catching her wrist and jerking her back so hard she nearly fell, her shoulder screaming in pain. But he was too late. Morrow had reached them.
