Page 73 of Legacy of Thorns
Finley was once again tugged forward, this time all the way to the side of the bed. He looked down at the face of the sleeping girl, and his world upended, spinning wildly around him.
It was Daphne. The girl lying in the bed was Daphne.
Chapter 25
Daphne
Despite the certainty—almost the inevitability—with which Daphne had outlined her plan, she still hesitated when she actually stood beside the bed. Her hands clenched the skirts of the gown Gabrielle had given her.
She had spent so long trying to escape the Legacy’s unnatural sleep. Could she really voluntarily lie down and let it sweep her away completely?
“Are you sure Barlowe never saw your face at the ball?” Archer sounded worried. “Are you sure about all of this?”
“Yes,” she said, and as she said it, it became true.
Lorne had shown her that she had to accept the way her naps had shaped her past. And now she had to face the way her fear of them could shape her future. She had to face the worst of what she feared her naps could become and come out the other side.
Because she did believe she would wake again. Just as she was willing to risk everything to save Finley, he would never abandon her to the Legacy’s clutches.
Even so, her legs trembled as she climbed into the bed and slid under the coverlet. Already the familiar weight of sleep was dragging at her, trying to pull her into unconsciousness. Butshe had to resist it. She needed to sleep for longer than a few minutes. She needed to sleep until Finley woke her.
“Here you go,” Gabrielle said in a subdued voice, holding out a freshly spun length of yarn.
Nanny had talked her through making it while Archer urged them on to hurry. But it had to be made by Gabrielle’s hands alone. None of the rest of them dared touch it, even for a moment. The effects of yarn made by a Sleeping Beauty on the spindle that had put her to sleep were the most potent of all sleep effects—even more so than the prick of a Sleeping Beauty whittled spindle.
As soon as Daphne took the rolled circle of yarn into her hand, the darkness grew too heavy to fight. It forced her eyelids closed, and she barely felt her hand land back on the bed, the yarn still clutched tight in her fingers.
Chapter 26
Finley
How could the girl in the bed be Daphne? Finley tried to force his spinning mind to make sense of what his eyes were seeing.
He had left Daphne behind with Archer. She couldn’t be here unless…
Unless she and Archer had used the extra time he had bought them. If they had arrived at the castle first, Archer could have made a path through the brambles. He could have woken the real Gabrielle whose name was written on the bed before him. And they could have left Daphne in her place.
Finley watched the rise and fall of her chest, her unmoving, closed eyes. Was she really asleep or only pretending?
Fear seized him at the idea of Daphne sleeping here, alone and vulnerable. But wound through it was unmistakable awe at what she had done.
He glanced at Barlowe, his bound fists clenching at the way the man’s eyes were roving over Daphne’s face. But there was no flicker of recognition in his features. Was that possible?
Finley thought back over the ball and their interactions. Barlowe had never seen Daphne without the mask. And if Finley—who knew her face as well as anyone’s— had found it hard to believe she was really there, Barlowe would be even less likely to suspect it.
It had still been a staggering risk. His heart swelled with a wild mix of emotions. Daphne had risked everything for him, trusting that he would be true to his promises. And now it was his turn to risk everything for her. No matter what the consequences of obeying Barlowe, he couldn’t turn back now.
“Kiss her,” Barlowe ordered, and Finley leaned willingly toward Daphne’s face.
“No!” The rope jerked him back. “Kiss her foot,” Barlowe snapped, his usual urbanity fraying. “Stay out of her sight.”
Finley straightened and held out his hands. “Cut my ropes.”
Barlowe’s eyes narrowed, but Finley’s gaze didn’t waver. “Cut my ropes, or I’m going to fall all over the girl. There are six of you and one of me, surely they aren’t necessary.”
“Fine.” Barlowe waved at one of his men. “Cut him loose.”
The man obeyed, letting the ropes fall to the ground at Finley’s feet. Finley massaged his wrists as he took his designated place at the foot of the bed.
