Page 66 of Legacy of Thorns
Morning had broken, and Finley climbed out onto a deserted road, his muscles complaining with every movement. No other travelers could be seen, and neither were there any buildings in sight. Apparently Barlowe wanted to stretch his legs but didn’t trust Finley near other people. Finley’s hope of a hot breakfast receded.
Cherry blossoms in bloom crowded the road, creating a beautiful riot of color and beauty. Their presence suggested they were nearing their destination, but Finley could see no sign of brambles nor any distant hint of a white building.
Examining his surroundings more closely, Fin realized the forest still stretched away from the road on either side, hiding behind the rows of cherry blossoms. They had reached the southwestern region of the forest but not the forest’s border or the lake that lay there. He still had time.
The men grumbled quietly among themselves as they walked up and down, stretching their legs, although they made sure not to do so in the vicinity of Barlowe. Finley traced their steps, keeping his distance from the others without straying far enough to raise alarm. Outnumbered seven to one, whatever he attempted would need to be more strategic than making a run for it in the middle of the forest.
He wheeled around at the outside limit of his self-assigned path, heading back past the horses. The driver had moved away from them—taking his own chance to stretch his legs—and asFinley passed, he was momentarily the only one standing near them.
A quick visual examination confirmed his earlier suspicion. As he had expected, the far horse appeared little more than a yearling, twitching at every noise from the forest. Finley adjusted his course, walking close enough to the near horse that he could touch it as he passed.
“Sorry, old boy,” he murmured as he twisted the poor horse’s ear. “You don’t deserve this.”
He strode quickly on as the horse whinnied and danced in place. The creature’s movement jostled the flighty young horse harnessed beside him, and the yearling broke into movement.
The older horse whinnied louder, and the driver shouted, but it was too late. The yearling lurched off the road, dragging the other horse and the carriage with him, and a splintering crash heralded the destruction of one wheel and part of the harness mechanism.
Barlowe and his men converged on the carriage, all speaking over the top of each other and blaming the driver for his momentary absence. But when the chaos subsided, Barlowe was looking at Finley.
Finley looked back, a polite, blank expression on his face, although he was relieved to see both horses were unharmed. Barlowe’s eyes narrowed.
“It seems we’ll be going the rest of the way on foot,” he said.
“It seems we will,” Finley replied coolly.
Barlowe gestured to one of his men and murmured something quietly to him while his eyes remained on Finley. The man ran off and returned with a length of rope.
“I’m sure you’ll excuse the discourtesy,” Barlowe said as the man rebound Finley’s hands. “I’ve never been the trusting sort.”
Finley said nothing, forcing himself to appear calm as the man did his work. Barlowe wasn’t happy, but neither was hetruly alarmed at a delay, and that made Finley more afraid than he had been since he woke up. Barlowe had no serious fears of pursuit.
What exactly had happened to Archer and Daphne after he was forcibly put to sleep?
Chapter 22
Daphne
Daphne cantered down yet another endless road, grateful for Archer’s presence at her back. Despite the simmering tension that drove her forward, she kept slipping into short naps. And though she usually kept unlikely balance during her Legacy-fueled naps, she didn’t like the idea of napping alone on the back of a racing horse.
When they finally stopped for a few snatched hours of sleep beside the road, she slept deeply and dreamlessly.
“At least we don’t need to worry about meeting Barlowe on the way,” Archer commented once morning dawned. The hard night’s ride hadn’t diminished his usual cheer. “Even my optimism doesn’t like our chances if we try a direct attack.”
Avery had shown them a route on the map that kept them away from the main carriage road, leading them on paths that were less smooth but more direct.
“This route also avoids the town on the eastern side of the lake, though,” Daphne said. “Which means we won’t be able to collect reinforcements.”
“I doubt we would have been successful at gathering them even if we tried. We still don’t have any proof, and I don’t exactly look the part of a prince on his way to wake a Sleeping Beauty.”
Daphne grimaced at the thought of what she herself must look like after a night divided between horseback and the forest floor.
When the first cherry blossom tree appeared, Archer urged Nutmeg into a faster pace. It wasn’t long before their path approached the lake from the north, disgorging them onto a much wider carriage road that ran westward along the north side of the lake. Cherry blossom trees lined the road on either side, and they thundered along between clouds of blossoms.
Despite the size and beauty of the road, the surface was rough and pitted, as if it didn’t see regular use and hadn’t received upkeep in years. Daphne drew encouragement from the indication that they’d reached the right place. If this part of the road ended at the castle, as they hoped, it must have long ago fallen into disuse.
Nutmeg, already having proved her ability as far beyond any normal horse, tossed her head, neighed, and increased her pace without urging, galloping toward two distant white towers. Neither Archer nor Daphne made any attempt to slow her.
They rounded a corner, and a solid wall of brambles came into view, towering above them. It blocked the end of the road completely, although it wasn’t quite tall enough to obscure the white towers beyond.
