Page 18 of Legacy of Thorns (Kingdoms of Legacy #3)

Finley

F inley, Archie, and Daphne reached the cabin without incident, and Finley and Archie began putting their purchases away.

But though Daphne took a sack of potatoes, she only made it a few steps toward the kitchen before she placed it on the ground and promptly sat on it, resting her head against a wall and going to sleep.

Archie laughed, but Finley eyed her with concern. She stayed upright, however, showing no tendency to topple, so he returned to his task. Daphne woke just as they were storing the last of the packages, hefting her sack and carrying it to them as if nothing had happened.

She poured a stream of potatoes into an empty bucket, declaring her intention to prepare them for the evening meal. Archie stepped in to help her balance the sack, so when a voice hailed them from outside, Finley stepped onto the porch alone.

“Success!” Morrow grinned from the forest floor, raising his voice to add, “Come on, Archie!”

Archie appeared in the doorway behind Finley, moving with uncharacteristic reluctance. Usually he was more than willing to help with the unpleasant task of cleaning and preparing the meat, given he was no use in catching it. But that was before he had someone anchoring him to the cabin.

“I was about to help Daphne peel potatoes,” Archie said slowly. “I can’t abandon her to do that alo?—”

“I’ll help Daphne,” Finley said, recognizing his opportunity. “Go, Sprout.”

Archie shuddered. “That’s worse than Archie! I’m not a child anymore!”

“I know,” Finley said implacably. “That’s why you have to do your fair share—in this case helping clean the carcasses.”

Morrow grinned. “We can’t have Daphne thinking you’re the sort to shirk unpleasant tasks.”

Archie’s eyes widened, and he leaped off the porch. “You’ll have to tell her the truth, Morrow.” He gave the man a pleading look. “You know I’m the helpful sort!”

Morrow chuckled. “That you are, lad, that you are. I’ll see if I can work it into conversation. Natural like, of course.” He winked at Finley and led Archie off.

Finley watched them go with a strange mix of excitement and reluctance. He hadn’t expected his opportunity to talk to Daphne to come so quickly.

She appeared in the doorway with a bucket of potatoes on her hip, her lips twitching as she watched Archie’s retreating figure. But when she transferred her gaze to Fin, her expression turned more serious. “You don’t actually have to help with the peeling. I can easily do it on my own.”

“Of course I’ll help.” Finley took the bucket from her, and she turned back to fetch an empty one for the peeled potatoes. “Shall we peel out here on the porch? It’s a beautiful day.”

Daphne agreed, and they were soon settled on the porch, their hands falling into a natural rhythm. Fin tried to think of a smooth opening and failed. With a sigh, he gave himself a mental shake and plunged straight in.

“I hope you believe that I didn’t mean to involve you in our mess. I thought you would be free to walk away after waking Archie.”

Daphne’s hands stilled for a moment before she resumed her even movements. “I accept that.” She didn’t look at him.

He took a breath, grateful she was willing to concede that much. “The current situation isn’t what any of us wanted, but there’s no denying that you’re involved now. So I think I should explain the background more fully.”

She looked up quickly, her brows lifting. “I thought you don’t know why you’re being pursued.”

“We don’t know the specific offense.” He sighed. The words were hard to say. Harder than it had been with Nisha or Morrow. “But we know where it started.”

His hand bore down on his potato, accidentally taking off a chunk of the vegetable along with the peel. Grimacing, he forced his hands back under control.

“To explain it properly,” he said, “I have to go back to our childhood.”

Daphne’s brows rose again, but he kept going.

“Archie already told you we grew up in the southern city of Mirandar. What he didn’t say is that our mother was both beautiful and kind—the epitome of goodness and love. But our father was not. He never deserved her.”

The words came a little more easily now he had begun, but he didn’t look toward Daphne.

He didn’t want to see her reaction. “Father was often absent, off on some scheme or other that always came to nought. And when I was ten and Archie was five, he didn’t come back at all.

For five years, Mother raised us entirely on her own.

I helped where I could, of course, but it was difficult for her.

Although she tried her best to shield us from that truth. ”

He laughed roughly. “She was always telling me to stop worrying and be a child while I still could. But I had to help—of course I did. I couldn’t watch her struggling and do nothing.”

He risked a glance at Daphne. She had stopped peeling and was watching him instead. He couldn’t read her expression, so he grabbed blindly for another potato and kept talking.

“When Archie was ten, our mother got sick and died. The sickness came on quickly, and the local doctors could do nothing to save her. If Father had been there, perhaps he could have gotten her to the capital in time. But even at fifteen, I couldn’t manage it on my own. Not when we always had so little coin.”

“I’m sorry,” Daphne said softly. “If you don’t want to talk about this, you don’t have to.”

He frowned as a droplet balanced on his chin before dropping free. When had he started crying?

He brushed the moisture away angrily. They were tears of anger more than sorrow, but he needed to get himself under control.

“You need to know this.” His voice sounded hard even to his own ear.

Did she realize his anger and resentment weren’t directed at her?

“It’s the beginning of how we ended up in this predicament.

An interfering neighbor managed to contact our father, although I have no idea how.

He told him of Mother’s death, and Father actually showed up. ”

He dropped his potato into the bucket of peeled ones and snatched up another, wielding his knife savagely.

“We didn’t need Father. I could have looked after Archie on my own.

But when Father came, Archie was so excited.

He barely remembered him from before, and he was desperate to know his father.

He’d just lost his mother, so how could I say no? ”

“You couldn’t,” Daphne said softly. “Of course you couldn’t.”

“The first thing he did was take us away from Mirandar. I could have refused to go, of course. I was old enough for that. But I couldn’t send Archie off with him alone.

” There had been no way he was going to trust Archie to their unreliable father.

“So all three of us became homeless drifters. Our father was extravagant, wasteful, and a spendthrift—a man without a practical bone in his body. But he was also charming and had an unshakable faith that good fortune was just around the corner, so he was always finding people to loan him money.” Finley’s expression hardened even further.

“Of course those relationships always eventually soured. And then we would move on to the next place.”

Daphne shifted in her seat as if uncomfortable with his words. But when she spoke, her voice was soft. “That must have been difficult.”

Finley couldn’t look at her or reply. He needed to get through the story, and her sympathy unraveled him. Nisha and Morrow had both listened in silence.

He cleared his throat. “I got jobs wherever I could, and worked to pay off his debts. But I could never earn enough. Mostly, I did what I could to shield Archie from the truth.”

“How sad that your father’s optimistic outlook was so misdirected. He sounds like Archie in that regard, except Archie uses his positivity to cheer and help others.”

Finley jerked, nearly cutting his finger with his peeling knife. Words of defiance leaped to his tongue. Archie was nothing like their father.

But he swallowed the words down, bitter though they were in his throat.

Was she really wrong? Finley might hate to admit it, but her words rang true.

If he forced himself to see past the bitterness and anger that clouded his view of his father, Archie was very like the man.

But Archie was their father without his fatal weaknesses.

He forced himself to speak, though the words sounded wooden. “Archie has the best parts of both our parents. The charm and positivity of Father, and the goodness and compassion of Mother.”

Daphne tipped her head to the side. “And what of you?”

He frowned at her, but she didn’t seem to notice, continuing to muse aloud. “Archie grew to be like your parents, but he took the best of them and filtered out the worst. You, I think, are the opposite.”

Finley stiffened. Was she saying that he was the worst of both parents?

But again she continued without waiting for him to speak. “You rejected your father and shaped yourself to be his opposite. You saw his irresponsibility and became far more responsible than any youth should have to be.”

Her words resonated somewhere deep inside Finley, brushing against something too painful to be touched. Was that what he’d done? Had he formed himself in reaction against his father?

He shied away from the question. There was no part of his father in him—even in opposition.

“Most people find me just as charming as Archie, you know,” he said with a smile that was a ghost of his usual, easy one.

“I know.” Daphne continued to gaze at him. “But I think with you the charming rogue role is a mask. Archie might truly be one at heart, but not you.”

Finley stared at her, robbed of speech.

Daphne’s brow crinkled, and her eyes seemed to turn inward. “You talk as if you hate your father, but surely…” She looked up and met his gaze, her own confused. “He’s your father! And he can’t be all bad if he managed to raise you and Archer.”