Page 21 of Legacy of Thorns (Kingdoms of Legacy #3)
Finley
F inley checked Nisha’s schedule the minute she finished it, trying not to look too eager. Apparently she wanted to punish him even more than Daphne had already done in her demonstration because he wasn’t paired with Daphne for a single patrol until the fourth day of the repeating schedule.
At least he could join her each morning for her training dance.
But when he slipped away from the cabin the following morning, he was spotted by the one other person in the cabin with an intense interest in Daphne’s whereabouts. Finley had only just settled into his pose when Archie popped out of the trees, his eyes widening with joy when he saw Daphne.
“So this is where you both are!” He gave Finley a wounded look.
Finley almost growled at him to go away, but a glance at Daphne shut his mouth.
He was no more an invited guest than Archie was, and his brother wasn’t going to leave willingly.
Daphne valued the moments of peace to start her morning, so Finley wasn’t going to be the one to start a disturbance with Archie.
His brother dropped into a vague approximation of their training pose, positioning himself on Daphne’s other side. But unlike Fin, he kept up a steady stream of chatter as he did his best to mirror Daphne’s movements. Finley ground his teeth together. Didn’t the boy ever run out of breath?
After several minutes of nonstop chatter, Daphne started squeezing her eyes shut more than usual and drawing unusually long breaths. Fin snapped.
“If you’re going to be here, Archer, you have to keep your mouth shut!” He glared at his brother across Daphne.
Archie looked back at him with wide eyes, but at least he stopped talking. And Daphne’s expression of gratitude made any irritation of Archie’s more than worth it. Maybe he’d even get sick of the silence and leave.
Despite Fin’s hopes, his brother remained, however. He even made it through the session without a single word more, although it looked like a strain. Perhaps it had been enough of a strain to keep him away on future mornings, though.
But Finley had reckoned without the strength of Archie’s Legacy-fueled infatuation.
Archie wasn’t going to give up an opportunity to spend time with Daphne, even if he had to be unnaturally silent while he did it.
And by the fourth morning, he seemed to have largely adapted, looking less stressed and more peaceful by the end of the training session.
Perhaps he was learning to appreciate the peace that came from the moments of quiet among the trees.
In the meantime, Finley sought other opportunities to spend time with Daphne. The first to present itself was meal preparation the following day, and when he collected the bucket of vegetables for the day’s meals, he suggested they take them to the porch as they had done previously.
Daphne agreed readily, and an instant sense of closeness and camaraderie enveloped them as they took the two porch seats, a lingering effect of the conversation they had shared there previously.
Finley threw Daphne a glance as he scooped the seeds out of a small pumpkin.
If he stayed quiet, would she volunteer any information about herself?
He still itched to know what she had meant about coming to Oakden to find out who she was.
He’d rarely met anyone as self-assured and confident in themselves as Daphne.
Daphne didn’t appear to notice his gaze, her own attention fixed on the nearest tree trunks.
She laughed softly to herself. “In all the years I spent planning my return to Oakden, I never pictured myself in a situation like this. I’m going to have to significantly censor my letters to Rosalie and Olivia.
” She chuckled, her mood light despite her words.
Finley pressed his lips together, giving her another sidelong glance. Did she miss her friend and cousin intensely? Was she finding it lonely being surrounded by virtual strangers and with no other girls her own age?
“What are they like?” He picked up a second pumpkin. “Are they similar?”
“Rosalie and Olivia?” Daphne sounded surprised. “I’ve never really thought about it. Hmmmm…” She looked down at the carrot she was peeling. “In some ways they are, and in some ways they’re quite different.” She laughed softly. “Rosalie is?—”
“I love pumpkin!” Archie’s head appeared between them. “Will Morrow be making pumpkin pie?” He looked at Daphne. “You’ll love Morrow’s pumpkin pie! It’s my favorite.”
The rest of Archie appeared as he forced himself between them despite the small table that already stood there.
Without hesitating, he removed the bucket of unprepared vegetables from the table and took its place, perching there as if the table was a stool.
Holding up a knife, he grinned from Daphne to Fin.
“I found another knife, so I thought I’d help!” He took one half of the pumpkin his brother had hollowed out and began peeling it.
“We’ll be finished in no time with three of us,” Daphne said lightly, abandoning her earlier conversation.
Finley clenched his teeth, holding in the words he wanted to say to his brother. But more disappointing than the interruption itself was the lack of even a flicker of disappointment in Daphne. She seemed genuinely indifferent about Archie inserting himself between them.
At least the next afternoon Archie was absent completely since he was out patrolling with Nisha.
But in the small cabin with Morrow, there was still no opportunity for private conversation.
So when Morrow noticed they were low on kindling and suggested the three of them gather some, Finley jumped at the idea.
The three of them spread out beneath the trees, but Finley kept track of Daphne as she combed the forest, hovering in her vicinity without actually approaching her.
He knew how difficult it was for her to shake her usual shadow.
If she wanted to take advantage of the rare opportunity for some alone time, he didn’t want to force his presence on her—he’d witnessed too much of Archie’s juvenile obsession to want to subject her to the same behavior from him.
But he lingered in her sight line, hoping to reassure her of her safety while giving her the opportunity to approach him if she wanted conversation.
And to his delight, she drifted closer and closer until the two were gathering sticks from the underbrush side by side. She gave him a companionable smile—an expression he couldn’t have imagined ever receiving from her when she was first forced to join them—and it emboldened him to speak.
It was a risky subject—one that would inevitably remind her of his past deception—but it was something that had been weighing on his mind.
“Back in Ethelson, you said you had something urgent to discuss with Lorne. I’m sorry that being here with us has made it impossible for you to seek him out.”
“Did I say that?” Daphne stooped to pick up a stick. “I’d forgotten.”
Finley’s brows rose, and his eyes lingered on her curiously.
She laughed, but there was a shaky note to it.
“That makes me sound fickle, doesn’t it?
It felt like an urgent matter at the time, but now…
” Her face grew shadowed. Clearly something was weighing on her—something that had happened since their first meeting and that had overshadowed her original mission.
There was one obvious conclusion as to what that might be. Finley’s gut clenched. He was the reason for the shadows on her face.
But when she glanced at him, instead of anger in her eyes, he saw amusement driving away the shadows. Her lips twitched. “Somehow being pursued by faceless criminals who want to abduct—and possibly murder—me puts other supposedly urgent issues in perspective.”
“When you put it like that…” Finley shook his head, his mouth curving into a smile in response to hers.
If Daphne could laugh about their situation, perhaps he’d been mistaken about the cause of those shadows. Perhaps he had projected his own feelings onto her.
For three years, he’d been plagued by nightmares of Archie being taken by their enemies, and that morning he had woken in a cold sweat from the familiar dream—except this time it was Daphne being dragged away, her eyes terrified and accusing as she screamed his name.
“We’ll work out what those men want,” he said. “And then I’ll help you find Lorne myself.” He hesitated. “If you want my help.”
She stumbled slightly at his words, and his hands flew out to brace her, steadying her by both arms. He lost his armful of sticks in the process but managed to save hers, the load of twigs and branches clasped between them.
He froze in that position, and she looked up at him, her eyes wide, and her lips slightly parted.
His heart rate, which had spiked from the sudden movement, beat even faster. Was hers beating hard as well? A tremble ran through her—he could feel it through the connection with her arms. But she didn’t step away.
Her eyes dropped to his lips, and warmth exploded through Finley.
How angry would she be if he dumped her load of wood on the ground? It had to go if he was going to take her in his arms.
“Finley? Daphne?” Archie’s eager voice made them both jerk violently away from each other, half of Daphne’s gathered armful raining down around her at the sudden movement.
Archie bounded over, his gaze traveling across the wealth of small sticks that littered the ground around their feet.
“I’ve never seen such a good spot for kindling!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing just standing around?” He began to scoop up the discarded sticks around Finley, his eyes glinting with competitive spirit. “I just got back from patrol, but I’m going to have more than you at this rate!”
Finley stared at him in wordless wrath. “What are you doing here?” he growled.
“I already told you.” Archie’s arms were already full. “We just got back from patrol, and Morrow said you were out here gathering kindling, so I came to find you.” He turned to Daphne. “It’s time for you and Morrow to head out for your shift.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Daphne’s face was red, and she didn’t meet either of their eyes as she turned and fled toward the cabin, clutching her remaining half-load.
“Very well done, brother,” Finley said through his teeth, stalking toward the cabin in her wake.
“Seriously, Fin?” Archie called, his arms now overflowing. “You didn’t even collect anything ? How long were you out here?” He raced to catch up, shaking his head at Finley’s apparent failure.
Finley glared at his brother, but the look of confused pity on Archie’s face forced a reluctant laugh out of him.
“Yes, I appear to be remarkably useless,” he agreed. “I’ve been noticing it more and more. Here give me some of those.” He took some of the sticks off his brother, and the two strolled back to the cabin in—almost—perfect amity.