Page 23 of Legacy of Thorns (Kingdoms of Legacy #3)

“I can still remember being normal as a child,” she said, “before we left Oakden. But sometimes it feels like those memories are fading. Like I’m losing the last piece of who I was before the Legacy twisted me.”

Finley’s brow creased, his eyes worried. “Twisted?”

Daphne held up a hand to stop him, not wanting to hear whatever pacifying compliment might come next.

“Ever since the naps started, I’ve assumed that once I turned eighteen and was able to return to Oakden, the fatigue would lift. I thought I would have a chance to be free.”

“But they haven’t gone away,” Finley said softly. “They’re getting worse. The Legacy hasn’t released you after all.” His jaw tensed. “It’s because of me, isn’t it? Because I made you wake Archie and entangled you in our problems.”

Seeing his distress, Daphne felt a shot of longing to be able to repudiate his words—to deny it had anything to do with him. But the words would have been hollow, and he would have known it.

“I don’t blame you,” she said instead. “You didn’t know. You were just trying to save your brother.”

“Archer!” Morrow’s loud yell made Daphne turn away, blinking to drive back the tears.

“I need your help!” Morrow bellowed again.

Archer jogged toward them, dropping the greens he’d collected into the basket at Daphne’s feet. He hesitated at sight of her, her face still turned away, but Morrow called again, and Archer gave a frustrated sigh.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised and jogged off.

Daphne and Fin listened to his retreating steps in silence, distantly hearing the murmur of voices as he reached Morrow.

“You’re doing it again,” Fin said, the annoyance in his voice making Daphne’s eyes spring back to him.

“Excuse me?” she snapped, stung. Hadn’t she just absolved him of blame?

“It wasn’t your parents’ fault then, and it isn’t my fault now,” he said, a little more heat creeping into his voice. “Why are you so desperate to let us all off the hook?”

“And why are you so desperate for me to wallow in pointless resentment and bitterness like you?” She glared at him, cracks running through her control.

“Has it made you happy, Fin? Has it changed the past or Archer’s situation?

Has it achieved anything at all except to make you and everyone around you miserable? ”

Fin sucked in a breath, his eyes widening. “I make you miserable?”

“No,” Daphne said quickly, putting her hand up to shield her eyes. “That was too much. I didn’t mean to say that. I’m not…I don’t usually…” Where had her usual calm acceptance of life gone? Why did Finley provoke so much intense feeling in her?

She lowered her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said quickly, and if he was still feeling hurt at her words, he’d hidden it away where she couldn’t see. “I want you to let out your feelings. Repressing them only does you a disservice. Eventually, they’ll come bursting out anyway.”

“I have no desire to wallow,” she said tartly.

“Then don’t wallow.” His challenging gaze wouldn’t let her go. “Acknowledge the truth of the situation you’re in and what caused it, feel the feelings that creates, and then let them go, if you want to.”

It sounded so simple, and yet…

“And what about you?” she asked. “You must want to wallow, then. Since you haven’t let anything go.”

Part of her wanted to hide from the intensity of the conversation—already fatigue was pulling at the edges of her mind, the emotions draining her. But another part of her refused to back down. If he was going to challenge her, then he needed to prove he could take the same challenge back.

He stood frozen, looking at her.

“I…” he started, only to stop.

She gave a small, tight smile. “That’s what I thought. If I need to accept that my parents—and you—have wronged me, then you need to let go of the wrongs done to you. Your father is dead, Fin. The anger isn’t serving you.”

She thought he would turn away, that he would leave her alone among the trees, but he did neither. Instead, he straightened.

“You’re right. If I want you to release the feelings you’ve repressed, I have to release the ones I’ve been holding. Or at least, I have to try.”

His words were so unexpected they released something inside her. Her hands tightened into fists, her muscles quivering with the effort of remaining still.

“You’re right that I’m angry!” Her quiet voice shook with intense emotion.

“I’m angry that my parents gave me this burden, and I’m angry that just when I was supposed to be free, you tricked me into entangling myself even further.

And most of all, I’m angry at the Legacy!

I don’t care that it doesn’t have a mind or a will.

I’m furious with it! I’m sick of my own body and mind betraying me!

All I want is to be myself without the Legacy’s burden! Is that so much to ask?”

“Not at all,” Fin said softly. “And I only wish it was in my power to give you your freedom. I wish I’d never had a part in making your life worse.”

His words pierced the haze of Daphne’s storming mind, draining her anger liked he’d pulled a plug.

“You don’t make my life worse,” she whispered, so softly she thought he might not catch the words.

But his breathing quickened, and he stepped toward her, one hand reaching out before dropping back to his side.

“I did this to you,” he murmured. “I have no right to…”

Daphne wasn’t sure what words came next, and the possibilities scared her.

“What if it’s building to something worse?” she blurted, her worst fear leaping from her mind to her tongue in an effort to fill the silence. “What if one day I go to sleep, and I don’t wake up?”

Finley’s muscles tightened, and this time his hand gripped one of her arms. “If that happens, I will never abandon you. I will do whatever it takes to wake you. You, of all people, know that’s true.”

Daphne released a shaky breath, moisture tangling in her eyelashes. She didn’t know what to do with the fire in his eyes or with the relief his words sent coursing through her.

His voice grew more urgent. “I will make sure you wake up. And I don’t need to know who you are without the naps. That was one thing Archie was right about—you’re incredible with or without them.”

Daphne laughed hollowly, looking down. “We don’t know what I’m like without the naps, do we?”

“Daphne.” Fin stepped even closer, his eyes trapping hers.

Slowly, his free hand reached out, his fingers brushing down her arm, tracing it from shoulder to wrist. Her skin tingled at the lightness of his touch, her heart thrumming as he reached her hand and wove his fingers through hers.

The weight and warmth of his hand, so firmly holding hers, filled her simultaneously with a sense of security and an unfamiliar excitement. She looked down at their clasped hands. How could so much be communicated with just entwined fingers?

Fin stepped even closer. “I meant what I said. I don’t need to know what you’re like without them.” His voice was low and deep. “You’re already the most amazing person I’ve ever met, Daphne.”

Her eyes leaped upward, and her breath caught at the nearness of his face. She could see every one of his long, dark lashes, and her eyes traced the light stubble that lined his chin.

Without thinking, her free hand lifted to run lightly along the sharp line of his jaw. He sucked in an audible breath at the contact, and her eyes jumped back to his. His gaze was locked on her lips.

Her breath tangled and caught, her heart beating so hard it hurt. She should pull away. Any moment, she was going to pull away.

But the warmth and security of his handhold kept her in place.

“Daphne,” he breathed again, his face sinking toward hers.

Her breath hitched as his nose hovered beside hers, his eyes dropping closed and his breathing turning rough and pained. Her hands leaped to his chest to push him away, but instead they lingered there, flat against his jacket.

“Daphne,” Fin repeated, almost a groan. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.”

She said nothing—could say nothing—and his mouth crashed down over hers. His hands captured her waist, pulling her flat against him, and she sank into the kiss.

They had been dancing around their attraction for so long that the heat of it nearly consumed them, flaring white hot, trying to melt them down and meld them together.

But as Daphne felt her heart pull toward him, closing the emotional distance between them as he had closed the physical one, she pulled herself back.

Gasping, she wrenched herself from his arms. He stood, staring at her, his breath coming in hard pants and his eyes wild.

“What is it?” he asked, voice rough. “Daphne, what’s wrong?”

“I…I don’t know,” she stammered.

“What don’t you know?” His voice turned gentle. “You still don’t know me? Or us? You don’t know about us?”

“I don’t know me ! I’m still not free.” The words felt torn from Daphne, and as soon as she’d spoken them, she turned and fled.

“Daphne!” Fin called after her, but she ignored him, fleeing for a quiet part of the woods where no one would find her.