Page 27 of Legacy of Thorns (Kingdoms of Legacy #3)

At the edge of the trees, they gave their cloaks to Morrow. Fin gave him a nod and received one in return, and then the large figure of their friend disappeared into the gathering darkness, heading back for the forest.

Fin offered his arm to Daphne again, and this time she took it. It made no logical sense, but Daphne could almost feel the Legacy’s whirlwind sweeping her in. And yet, she couldn’t draw back. The only way past it was through.

“Are you all right?” Finley asked softly, watching her with concern as they walked through the manor gates.

Daphne didn’t even try to put her feeling into words.

“Are you sure we haven’t forgotten anything?” she asked instead. “I feel like we’ve forgotten something important.”

Fin chuckled. “That’s perfectly normal, don’t worry. It’s a trick of the brain. I’ve felt like that often enough myself.”

“And had you forgotten something?”

“Generally I had, yes.”

His words surprised a laugh from her, and given his reassuring smile in response, it had been his intention. Something inside her settled.

“Here we go,” he muttered, and she lifted her chin.

As long as they stayed away from Lord Castlerey they would be fine. Once inside, any houseguests would think they were staying at the inn, and any guests from the inn would think they were houseguests. They would walk through the crowd as good as unseen.

Golden light spilled out the manor’s open front door, inviting them onward. It illuminated a couple entering before them—a couple who were handing a gold-embossed invitation to a waiting footman.

As Daphne’s eyes latched onto the invitation, Fin faltered beside her, catching himself before their hesitation could be noticed.

“Ah,” he said quietly as they continued forward. “Invitations.”

“I knew we’d forgotten something,” Daphne said. “Will it matter?”

His hesitation was almost imperceptible. “Hopefully not.”

“I could always create a distraction by falling asleep, and you could sneak in. I can be quite dramatic about it if necessary.”

Fin laughed softly. “I’d like to see that—on another occasion. For now, I think we can stick to the main rules.”

“There are rules? Perhaps I should have learned those before we started the mission,” she said dryly.

“Thankfully they’re easy, love.” The word slipped so naturally off his tongue that she nearly stumbled. “Number one is don’t look nervous. And number two is never draw attention to yourself—unless, of course, you want to draw attention.” He winked at her.

When they reached the now-vacated door, Finley tipped his chin up, slipping on a haughty air that looked entirely natural. Ignoring the footman, he tried to stride inside, but the man moved to block his way.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to see your invitation, sir.” The footman’s tone was polite but implacable. “There’s a strict guest list for this event.”

“Yes,” Fin said in a strident tone that managed to be simultaneously petulant and domineering.

“I can see that. And what I would like to know is why I was left off! I’ve never been so insulted in my life!

I can assure you that I don’t mean to take such an insult lying down. If Lord Castlerey thinks he can?—”

“Please, sir.” A man dressed like a steward thrust the footman aside and bowed low.

“I assure you the oversight was unintentional. If you consider for just a moment, you will remember that it is not Lord Castlerey but the Legacy that is responsible for the oversight—and indeed it is the Legacy fueling your anger even now. Remember, only important guests are ever forgotten.”

“Well, as to that…” Fin cleared his throat and straightened his jacket, looking as believably shamefaced as he had looked incensed a moment before. “I suppose no real harm has been done.” He held out his arm to Daphne again. “Come, my dear, let us put this behind us and enjoy the party.”

She took his arm, and the two of them swept into the manor as if they owned the building, walking straight across the entryway and into the ballroom. Brightly clothed people mingled inside, couples already swirling to the music. Within steps they were lost among the crowd.

“And that,” he murmured in her ear, grinning, “is how it’s done.

We can thank the Legacy for that one. Nobles rarely hold an event in Oakden without leaving someone off the guest list. And given how enraged the overlooked guests tend to be, servants usually jump straight to appeasement, rather than enraging them further with questions.

Which happens to be very convenient for us. ”

“You’ve done that before,” Daphne accused.

“Of course.” His grin broadened. “But never in the same place twice.”

Daphne shook her head, but a shadow of concern marred her amusement. They had used the Legacy to get inside the ball, but at what cost? The last thing Daphne needed was more of the Legacy’s attention.

“Fin!” She clutched his arm with both hands, her eyes trained on someone over his shoulder. “There he is! The man from the forest.”

“Are you sure?” Fin’s eyes tightened, although the smile didn’t leave his face.

“Yes, yes, it’s definitely him. I was staring at him the whole time I was in that tree, terrified he was going to look up.”

“I’m turning you slowly,” Fin murmured, matching his actions to his words, spinning them smoothly so that he faced toward the man instead of her. “I see him. Wearing that distinctive purple coat. That will work to our advantage.”

“Should we split up?” Daphne forced her voice to sound level despite how much she disliked the idea.

Fin glanced down at her. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. There’s still the possibility we might need to make a quick exit, and I don’t want to be on the other side of the ballroom to you if that happens.”

“In that case, let’s make our way to the refreshment table.” She indicated the long table that lay against one wall.

Fin nodded, and they strolled toward it, weaving their way through the crowd. As they walked, they caught snippets of conversation.

“ Such a lovely event!”

“A bit embarrassing if you ask me. Hardly a decoration in sight.”

“Have you tried the raspberry tarts? They’re delicious as always. But I’d avoid the lemon ones. Nasty stuff.”

“Excellent orchestra! Even better than the one at the last ball I went to—and that was in the capital.”

Daphne shook her head. Apparently it would be easy to get people talking—everyone seemed eager to give their opinions.

At the refreshment table she took a lemon tart in a spirit of defiance. After one bite, she smuggled it back onto the table, subtly wrapped in a napkin. She should have had more trust in the unknown critic.

“You don’t want to touch the lemon ones,” a woman said in an under voice. “But the raspberry ones are quite nice.”

Daphne smiled at the woman. “I’d heard as much, and was just thinking that I should have taken the warning more seriously.”

The woman, who was dressed in expensive brocade and wore a slim mask, laughed. “You’re just like my daughter. Some of us have to learn from personal experience. I understand completely.”

Emboldened, Daphne stepped closer. “I don’t know many people here, but you seem like the kind of person who knows everyone.”

The woman stood a little straighter. “You’ve got a good eye, my dear. Despite the tart.” She winked at Daphne who smiled back.

“I was wondering about a few of the gentlemen.” Daphne indicated a random man in an elaborate suit, his diamond buttons having caught her eye. He looked about ten years older than her and had no woman on his arm.

“My dear!” The woman shook her head. “I can see you set your sights high. But Lord Tremlow is notoriously picky.” She gave Daphne a second look.

“Not but what I can see you’re a beauty behind that mask, my dear.

I daresay you have enough to attract any man’s attention. ” She tittered behind her hand.

“Oh.” Daphne flushed but pressed on. “What about him, then? Over there in the purple jacket.”

The woman turned to look. “Lord Barlowe? Yet more of your discerning eye, indeed. Not but what he’s a little on the old side for you, I would have thought. But then much can be overlooked when a man comes with a castle.” She winked.

A lord? And a castle? Daphne glanced over her shoulder at Finley, who was trying to look uninterested in their conversation as he filled his plate at random.

The woman followed her gaze, lowering her voice to a whisper that was still loud enough to carry. “I can only assume he’s your brother, my dear. No woman who came on the arm of a man like that would have eyes for other men.” She let out a hearty guffaw, which Daphne returned with a sickly smile.

“Do you know Lord Barlowe well?” Daphne asked, trying to get the conversation back on track. “Have you visited his castle?”

“Oh, one meets Lord Barlowe everywhere,” the woman said.

“So I suppose I know him as well as anyone might expect. But you’re quite right that it’s about time he threw a ball of his own, and perhaps a house party as well.

I’ve heard enough about that white castle by the lake that I’ve a hankering to see it with my own eyes. ”

“So you’ve never been there? Do you know anyone who has? I would love to hear it described in more detail.”

The woman smiled at her. “I can see you’re a cautious type, and there’s nothing wrong with getting all the facts first.” She lowered her voice again. “Especially if you’re going to give up a man like that.” Her eyes lingered on Fin.

“Yes,” Daphne said awkwardly, “so if you know anyone who…”

“Try Lady Sartenet.” She waved her fan toward a woman wearing bright orange with feathers all over her mask. “I believe I first heard of the white castle from her.”

Daphne thanked her and extricated herself from the conversation as gracefully as possible. When she stepped back to Fin, she let out a long breath.

“Very nicely done.” His warm smile both teased and affirmed. “We’ll make an actress of you yet.”

Daphne shuddered. “No, thank you.”

“Let me guess,” he laughed, “it was too fatiguing.”

“Far too fatiguing. But now I have to do it again.”

“Lord Barlowe…” Fin murmured, a crease of worry between his eyes. “Connections with the nobility was bad enough, but he’s a lord himself with a castle besides? What possible interest could he have in me and Archie?”

“At least we have a name now.” Daphne moved them toward her next target. “And hopefully this time we’ll get a location for that castle.”

But when she struck up a conversation with Lady Sartenet, using flattery to endear herself and then turning the conversation to Lord Barlowe’s castle, Lady Sartenet sighed.

“Ah, the white castle on the southern lake with its rows of cherry blossoms. How dearly I should like to see it for myself.”

“Have you never done so?” Daphne asked. “Then do you perhaps know someone who has? Other than Lord Barlowe, of course.”

“Hmm, well, let me see.” Lady Sartenet hummed to herself. “For that you had best talk to Lady Galsey.” She pointed at the woman Daphne had met beside the refreshment table. “I’m sure she’s been there.”

When Daphne returned to Fin, she was frowning. “That seems strange. Has no one been there?”

“It might be strange,” he said, “or it may simply be that the women have faulty memories. It’s an easy enough detail to forget over time. The important point is that we have information on its location.”

“Not much,” Daphne said dubiously.

“There’s only one lake on the southern border of the forest. And it’s an area known for its cherry blossoms. I’ve never been to that region personally—it’s one of the few I haven’t visited—so I can’t speak for the truth behind the tales of a white castle.

I don’t think I’ve heard of it before, though. ” He looked thoughtful.

“So we have a name and a location,” Daphne murmured. “That’s a great deal more than you ever had before.”

“But why would a lord be obsessed with seeking revenge on my family?” Fin’s voice was laced with frustration. “What did my father do to him?”

“That isn’t something that’s likely to be covered by noble gossip,” Daphne said regretfully.

“So maybe we risk it all.” Fin’s voice held steady. “Maybe we talk to him directly.”

Daphne looked at him with narrowed eyes. “And if he recognizes you?”

“He’s never come after us personally, so why should he? And besides, we’re in the middle of a ball. What can he do here?”

Daphne could think of several things, but she didn’t think any of them would make Finley pause.

“We should wait, at least,” she said, not liking the reckless light in his eyes. “Let Lord Barlowe have a few drinks first. It might help loosen his tongue and cloud his judgment.”

Fin released a breath and nodded, his eyes drifting to her face. “In that case, we should enjoy ourselves in the meantime.” He held out a hand. “Dance with me?”

Daphne put her hand slowly into his, trying to ignore the shiver that raced up her arm in response to the contact. But no sooner had he swung them into the dance than her eyes caught on a snowy-haired figure on the far side of the ballroom.

Gasping, she pulled free of Fin and raced across the room toward the familiar face.