Page 8 of Legacy of Thorns
“Do you dislike her new husband?” he asked, taking a guess.
Daphne looked up, clearly surprised. “Oh no, not at all. He’s a wonderful man. Dimitri is an excellent match for Rosalie.”
Finley’s brows had drawn together at her first words, but her final sentence put paid to any notion that she might be pining after her friend’s groom for herself.
“Rosalie got her happy ending,” Daphne murmured, “and I’m overjoyed for her. I suppose I just want to get mine too.”
Morrow chuckled and threw a sly look at Finley. “Looking for romance, are you?”
Finley pointedly ignored his glance, and thankfully Daphne seemed oblivious to it.
“Oh no!” she said. “That wasn’t what I meant. I was thinking of the Legacy.”
“The Legacy doesn’t give people happy endings,” Nisha said shortly. “I think it must enjoy pain and suffering.”
Finley rolled his eyes at the uncharacteristic flight of fancy from Nisha. Was she upset about Archie?
“The Legacies don’t have minds or emotions,” he said, not wanting Daphne to get a strange idea of them. “You know that. They may plague us, but that isn’t their intention.”
The Legacies were nothing more than the remnants of the enchantments that had once plagued the original royal families of each kingdom. They had sunk into the land itself, changing the landscape of each kingdom in strange ways and affecting even the animals. And they had a similar hold on their citizens—not just making it difficult to travel outside the kingdom’s borders, but constantly trying to force their lives to follow elements from the original histories.
Although Nisha was right that the Legacy didn’t necessarily give the happy ending—just whichever elements of the tale happened to fit the circumstances in question. Which was exactly the reason he was there now, forced into lying to Daphne—who seemed like a perfectly nice girl and not at all deserving of their deception.
“It is possible to get the happy ending,” Daphne said quietly. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
Her words sent a shot of hope through Finley. Daphne clearly already had plenty of experience being at the center of the Legacy’s power. Surely she could manage it one more time.
“And the Legacy’s effects aren’t all bad,” Finley added, wanting to support her. “All the kingdoms have found ways to turn their particular quirks to advantage. The Sovaran economy makes good use of their ability to blow flexible glass with fantastical properties. And everyone benefits from the sleeping potions that Oakden sells to foreign doctors.” The sleeping herbs required for the draft only grew in Oakden and had been put to good use by his kingdom for generations.
“Some of the Legacy’s effects are good and some of them are less ideal,” Daphne said, caressing a flower that grew next to her. “I’ll admit it’s nice to see flowers other than roses.”
In Glandore, where she had lived most of her life, it didn’t matter what seed you planted—the only flower that would grow was a rose.
“Ouch!” Daphne pulled her hand back and frowned at the prick in the tip of her finger. Her voice turned wry. “I could do without the thorns.”
Just as Glandore grew only roses, Oakden had more than its fair share of thorns. They grew on flowers that had no business having thorns.
Daphne shook her head, returning to her stew. “Thorns aside, the real problems all come from the hold the Legacy has on the people.”
Her three companions all nodded, none of them seeing anything to dispute in her words. They had all seen people suffer from the whims of the Legacy. They were currently someof those people. And Daphne had apparently been one of those people for years—ever since her parents had forced her away from her birth kingdom as a young child.
Something uncomfortable shifted in Finley’s gut. He recognized it at once and pushed it away. He couldn’t afford the luxury of guilt.
It wasn’t as if they intended to harm Daphne. They needed her assistance, but after that, she would be free to go anywhere she wished—they would even deliver her back to Ethelson if that was her preference. Although Finley suspected she would want nothing to do with them at that point.
Nisha began gathering the empty bowls for a quick clean, and Finley turned to take Daphne’s. They had been speaking only moments before, but she had since lain down in the grass by the side of the road and was somehow already asleep.
“Is she…sleeping?” Nisha asked. “Right there? Just like that?”
“I…” Finley shrugged, for once having no idea what to say. She certainly appeared to be sleeping.
“Well, that’s going to slow down our progress,” Nisha said, stacking the last of the bowls.
Chapter 4
Daphne
Daphne lay on the grass, her eyes closed and her breathing even. She had slept for a few minutes and woken again—but without giving any indication of having done so. It was an art she had mastered years ago. A lot of interesting things could be learned—and tiresome situations avoided—by appearing to be asleep.
