Page 9 of Legacy of Thorns
And now that she was—for the first time in her life—traveling without someone she knew and trusted, the skill had become vital. She needed to know what these people said and did when they thought her vulnerable and unable to hear them.
Only a second’s mental catalog told her that she hadn’t been harmed or even moved. She turned her attention outward.
“Everything’s clean, and I’ve repacked,” a woman’s voice said. Nisha. “Should we wake her?”
“But she looks so peaceful,” Morrow protested.
“Isn’t that a bit odd, though?” Nisha again. “Is there something wrong with her?”
“She’s been out of Oakden for years,” Finley said more quietly. “I guess now we know what price she’s had to pay for leaving. It must have been hard for her to live like that all this time.”
Tears pricked at Daphne’s eyes, and she struggled to keep her breathing in the correct cadence. It made sense that Lorne’s grandson would understand her struggles—he must have watched his grandfather suffer every time Lorne left the kingdom. But she hadn’t expected her own response to such immediate understanding and sympathy.
She stretched and yawned, finally opening her eyes. “Is it time for us to go?” She rose slowly to her feet.
“Yes, the washing up is just finished.” Finley grinned. “Very convenient timing.”
“I do my best,” Daphne said calmly.
She hadn’t been able to help falling asleep on that occasion, but there was no use protesting her innocence when she had done exactly what he suspected on more than one occasion. She didn’t even feel bad for using her frustrating circumstances to her best advantage where possible.
They all shouldered their packs and took to the road, Morrow in the lead. Finley and Daphne walked side by side behind him, with Nisha behind them.
Daphne glanced back at the other woman, concerned she might be unhappy with being relegated to the rear. But Nisha walked in a state of alertness, her eyes busy scanning the forest on either side of them. Daphne followed her gaze but noticed nothing out of place.
Most Oakdenians lived life at a slower pace than in other kingdoms—their Legacy had a tendency to slow everything down before you even realized it was happening. But Nisha—who Daphne guessed at about thirty—seemed to have her own supply of coiled energy. She wore her dark hair in a practical bob and the muscles in her arms and legs proclaimed she wasn’t used to a life of indolence.
In front of Daphne, Morrow moved comfortably despite his size, his fair hair ruffling in the spring breeze. Daphne had neverseen such a mountain of a man. And yet, his good nature seemed equally oversized. She placed him as mid-forties—still with plenty of strength in his frame—and she easily could have felt intimidated by his mere presence. But despite his appearance, she didn’t. And Daphne generally had good instincts about people.
She threw a sideways glance at Finley. So why did she feel so wary of Lorne’s grandson? He had been nothing but friendly so far—even charming. But her usual assessment was thrown off by how disturbingly attractive he was. She couldn’t tell if she felt uneasy because he was hiding something or because she mistrusted her response to her own feelings of attraction.
All together, the three of them were an oddly matched group and equally unexpected as associates of Lorne. But perhaps it wasn’t so surprising after all. Daphne had firsthand experience that Lorne welcomed everyone with open arms.
The spring air was pleasant, and she enjoyed looking for the spring blooms that poked through the forest litter on the ground wherever possible. Despite her concern for Lorne’s son and her worry over her own continuing sleepiness, Daphne felt light. It was the perfect day for a walk through the forest.
Morrow broke into sudden song, his voice infectious and joyful. Nisha immediately joined him, the rich notes of her low alto merging seamlessly with his unexpectedly smooth tenor.
They sang a traditional Oakdenian song that Daphne remembered from her childhood. As they reached the chorus, she couldn’t stop herself from joining in. Her voice merged with the rich melody they were making, soaring over the road as they sang together.
When the song wound to a close, Morrow began another one, and both women joined him immediately. Daphne’s heart swelled, her earlier pleasure in the day growing with the simple joy of making music. She’d almost forgotten this part of lifein Oakden. So many people had beautiful singing voices, and the people loved to sing. You never knew when someone would break into song, the people around them joining in.
Morrow embarked on a third song, and Daphne regretfully fell silent. It was one she didn’t recognize, and she was too out of practice to join a song she didn’t know.
She glanced across at Finley, whose lips had remained stubbornly shut throughout the impromptu choir performance.
“How can you not get caught up in the song?” she asked quietly beneath the singing of the others.
“Is it a crime not to enjoy singing?” Finley protested. “You’re looking at me as if I just kicked a puppy!”
“A crime?” Daphne’s eyebrow rose. “Of course not. But it does make me question your character.”
Finley winced, but Morrow broke off his song mid-word to give a low chuckle.
“Don’t blame Finley. You should thank him instead. He’s refraining for all our sakes.”
“People assume every Oakdenian can sing well,” Finley said ruefully. “But some of us had godparents who didn’t give that particular gift. Of course, some are naturally gifted anyway, but then there are some of us who…aren’t.” He shook his head. “Living in Oakden, having a poor singing voice is practically a curse. I could demonstrate for you, but?—”
“No, don’t!” Nisha and Morrow cried, almost in unison.
