Page 30 of Legacy of Thorns (Kingdoms of Legacy #3)

Finley

F inley staggered back, clutching at the small table behind him. “What…what did you just say?”

“You truly didn’t know.” Lord Barlowe shook his head. “Remarkable. To keep the truth from his own sons. Tut tut. I suppose he didn’t intend to die in such a foolish accident.”

Finley could barely hear his words, too overwhelmed with the ridiculousness of the claim.

“My father was Garrow,” he said firmly. “A wastrel, yes, but an ordinary man.”

“I’ve never even heard of a missing prince,” Daphne said suspiciously.

“The royal family don’t like to talk about it,” Barlowe said.

“Embarrassing to lose a prince, I suppose. And they keep popping out so many twins that you can’t blame them for struggling to keep track of them all.

Although, from what I understand, they had an advantageous marriage alliance arranged for him and were not at all pleased when he declared he would live as an ordinary citizen instead—and proceeded to run off with a serving maid. ”

“Fin?” Daphne’s fingers tugged at his sleeve.

“My…my mother was a serving maid before her marriage,” Finley said slowly. “That much is true.”

“I assure you it is all true,” Barlowe said crisply. “I wouldn’t have been pursuing you for years if it wasn’t. I don’t make mistakes.”

“You’ve been chasing Archer and me because our father was a prince?” Even as he spoke the words, Finley struggled to believe them. “But why?”

“For your blood,” Barlowe said simply, and Daphne recoiled.

“Oh, nothing as crude as that,” Barlowe assured her. “But the Oakden Legacy is lamentably fond of royalty.”

His words shook loose a thought in Finley’s mind.

They had blamed Archie’s enchanted sleep on the date of his attempted heist—attributing the power of the spindle to his turning sixteen.

But had it been more than that? Had the Legacy reacted so strongly because he had royal blood?

If so, they were fortunate Daphne’s vague royal connection had been enough to break his sleep.

Perhaps the interest the Legacy seemed to have in her had also helped?

Finley shook his head. What was he thinking? It couldn’t be true. His father hadn’t been a prince.

“My father—” he began but found he couldn’t go on. His father had rarely talked of his past, and Finley had never known his paternal grandparents.

“Your father was, from all accounts, a charming young prince,” Barlowe said.

“But I don’t think he found the adjustment to ordinary life as easy as he expected.

I’m sure he did love your mother, but alas, sometimes love is not enough.

When it comes to living an ordinary life, habits of economy are also important. ”

Finley gave a rough, grating laugh. No, his father had never had those.

“Economy is, in fact, a most unpleasant necessity,” Lord Barlowe said, “which is why I decided to become a lord. And why I now need your help.”

“My help ?” Finley gave the man a disbelieving look. “Is that what you call it? You have an odd way of asking for help.”

“I’ll admit that some of my efforts in the past have been regrettably crude,” Barlowe said. “But let us put the past behind us and consider, instead, the future.”

But Daphne’s thoughts seemed stuck elsewhere. “What do you mean you decided to become a lord?” she asked. “That isn’t something you can just decide.”

“Why ever not?” Barlowe smiled urbanely.

“I dress like a lord, I speak like a lord, I introduce myself as a lord. Who is to say I’m not one?

Oh, I don’t push it too far. The capital is—currently—beyond my reach.

But there is a perfectly good life to be had in the rest of the kingdom.

After three months, my visit here is drawing to a close, but only tonight I’ve received invitations to two more house parties.

I am, apparently, valued for my wit.” He laughed softly.

“I suppose it was gifted to you at birth,” Daphne said indignantly, “and you’ve chosen to misuse that gift.”

“Have I?” Barlowe raised a single eyebrow. “I have lived in luxury at the expense of others for a decade now, so I would consider it a most excellent use.”

“Ten years?” Finley asked. “You’ve only been chasing us for three…” He trailed off as he realized the obvious truth. “Before that, you were chasing our father.”

“He proved even better at eluding me than the two of you,” Barlowe said. “You wouldn’t believe the trinkets I have been forced to sell to fund the search. It is past time now for it to come to a close.”

Daphne and Finley spoke at the same moment.

“What about your castle?”

“You still haven’t told me why you were chasing my father and now me.”

“What elegant confluence,” Barlowe said.

“You present the question and the answer at the same moment. I must produce the castle I claim to own, and I must produce it soon. After so many years, questions have begun to be asked—oh only the most subtle, of course. But I have seen how subtle questions can grow.”

“It doesn’t exist?” Daphne asked. “And you’ve managed to fool everyone that it does for an entire decade!?”

“Remarkable, is it not, what people will believe if you say something with enough confidence,” the false lord said.

Finley shifted uncomfortably. He couldn’t deny the words when he’d made the same observation more than once.

“I will admit that I haven’t been circulating through house parties for the entire ten years,” Barlowe offered.

“For the first seven I acted as companion to an elderly, and extremely wealthy, noble lady. She placed my witty pronouncements slightly above her many lap dogs in terms of my entertainment value—a place of great honor in her household, I assure you. And for the price of excellent mealtime conversation, I was kept in luxury as a permanent houseguest. I knew the arrangement couldn’t last forever, so I had already begun my search during those years, but I’ll admit it was of a more desultory nature during that time.

In the three years since, I have worked with more urgency. ”

“This is too much.” Daphne sank onto the closest armchair, curling up into it and resting her head against the backrest. Her eyes closed.

Finley immediately placed himself between her and Barlowe, wishing, once again, that he had never encouraged her to walk into the manor.

“So it’s true?” Barlowe stepped sideways so he could see Daphne. “My men reported that you had traveled into the region with a young lady who was given to frequent napping, but I doubted their report.”

“She grew up outside Oakden,” Finley said reluctantly.

He didn’t want to tell Barlowe anything about Daphne, but he didn’t trust the man’s smooth manners. If he thought Daphne was mocking him, he might react badly.

Silence drew out between them, Fin’s emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

Daphne had challenged him to let go of his bitterness toward his father, and Finley had committed to doing so—or attempting to do so, at least. He had also begun to accept her assessment of the ways in which his father had influenced both him and Archie.

But when she had gently questioned the truth of his perception of his father, Finley had never wavered. He had been so certain that he had known his father, so certain his father had ruined his life.

And yet now it turned out that Finley hadn’t known his father at all. He hadn’t even known his true name.

Fresh resentment surged through him. Why hadn’t his father told him?

Finley could understand wanting to protect Archie, who had been so young, but why not tell Finley? Had his father really thought he was protecting his older son?

His mother had thought the same, though. How many times had she told Fin to remain a child while he still could?

His childhood and youth rolled through his mind, the old events replaying with fresh color. His father’s desertion of their family, the subsequent three years of nomadic life—all of it looked different under the new revelation.

Finley had thought they were always fleeing debts, but he couldn’t remember now if his father had actually said so. How many of those times had they actually been fleeing discovery— from Barlowe himself or from others who had realized the truth and sought to use his father for their own ends?

He could hear his mother’s words in his mind, telling him to forgive his father, telling him that he misunderstood him. But Finley had stubbornly refused to accept her words. Perhaps Finley had not been entirely blameless in the situation himself.

He tried to ground himself, to think it through clearly. Some facts hadn’t changed. His father hadn’t been a good father. He hadn’t loved them well. But perhaps he had been doing his best, loving as best he knew how. Finley could understand that—he knew what it was to try and to fall short.

Something inside him shifted, resentment giving way to something that felt like grief. But there was no more time for processing emotions.

Barlowe still hadn’t taken his eyes off Daphne, watching her sleep with far too much interest.

“Enough with the distractions!” Finley snapped, trying to keep Barlowe’s attention on him.

“Let’s speak of matters as they really are.

You have been persecuting and attempting to abduct both me and my brother—a child!

—for years. But even if our father was a prince, we don’t have a castle to give you. We never did.”

“No, no, of course not,” Barlowe said in a soothing tone that made Finley want to throttle the man. “I have the castle already—or I will have as soon as you clear away a couple of impediments for me.”

Daphne finally stirred, rising from the chair and coming to Finley’s side. “Let me guess. This castle that you claim is yours belongs to a girl currently trapped in an enchanted sleep, and the brambles protecting her won’t let you pass. That’s why you need a prince.”

Barlowe gave a delighted clap. “You prove once again that you’re a lady of more than ordinary perception. You have seen straight to the heart of the matter.”

“But that’s outrageous!” Indignation flowed from Daphne. “Even if Fin or Archer open the brambles for you and wake the girl, that won’t make the castle yours. What of her family?”

“Gone.” Barlowe didn’t even pretend to sound grieved.

“It was the most marvelous and fortunate coincidence that I stumbled on the story. The elderly lady for whom I was companion once knew the father. He was a royal of some description, but an eccentric who lived alone on his estate until a late marriage and a solitary daughter. The wife passed away, so when the girl fell prey to the enchanted sleep, he set off alone for the capital. He intended to find a prince to rescue her, but unfortunately he did not survive the trip. And so the girl has lain there for decades, both her and the castle forgotten by the kingdom.”

“Even if she doesn’t have a family,” Daphne insisted, “when she wakes, the castle will be hers.”

“Precisely.” Barlowe gave an unpleasant smile. “Another reason why I must liberate the property and its sleeping beauty without delay. I, myself, am only advancing in years.”

“You can’t mean to marry her,” Finley exclaimed, revolted. “If she fell prey to a Legacy sleep, she’s likely only just turned sixteen.”

“Oh relax, there’s no need for all this outrage,” Barlowe said. “My interest in the girl is purely for her possessions. Naturally we will remain betrothed until she reaches eighteen.”

“That doesn’t make it better!” Daphne cried. “And besides, if Fin or Archer wake her up, they’ll be the ones she fancies, not you. And either of them would make a more appropriate object for her infatuation than you!”

“Finley will wake her with a kiss somewhere unobtrusive—he can kiss her foot for all I care,” Barlowe said, undeterred. “But it will be my face waiting over hers. The first thing she sees when she awakes will be me—her rescuer.”

“I’m not sure the Legacy works like that.” Daphne sounded uneasy.

“I believe I have studied it more extensively than you have done, young lady,” Barlowe said. “My plan will work, and then my position in society will be secure. I can even turn my sights to the capital.”

“The entire plan is utterly despicable.” Daphne’s voice dripped with ice.

Barlowe merely smiled. “Is it? You will find me unmoved by your outraged virtue. I care far more for my own comfort than for your useless scruples. And surely the girl is better off awake and mistress of her own castle than sleeping for all eternity? It’s not as if I intend to assassinate her.

” He turned his eyes on Finley. “So what do you say? Come with me, open some brambles, wake a girl from her sleep, and our business will be complete.”

“That’s really all you want from me?” Finley asked carefully, as Daphne stiffened beside him. “If that’s all, why didn’t you just ask me to help in the first place? You could have offered to pay me.”

Barlowe raised a brow. “And would you have agreed? I don’t like to take chances when a certainty can be achieved instead.

That option would also have required me to reveal myself—something I had no intention of doing.

But since you have proved more elusive than I expected, and have even succeeded in unmasking my identity, the rules of the game have shifted.

A new approach is needed. You will find I am an eminently adaptable man. ”

“You can’t do it, Fin,” Daphne whispered, her voice distressed.

But he already knew that. There was zero chance he was going anywhere with Barlowe when it would mean leaving Daphne alone.

But when he spoke, he said, “I really think we should consider it, Daphne.”

“Fin, no!” she exclaimed.

Finley glanced at Barlowe and drew Daphne aside, pulling her to the other side of the room for some semblance of privacy.

“If I go with him now, this will all be over,” he said, watching Barlowe from the corner of his eye. “I have to think of you and Archie.”

Barlowe watched them with a small smile, as if he thought the game was already won.

“You can’t be serious, Fin!” Daphne hissed, and Finley smiled at her, pulling her into an embrace.

“Of course I’m not serious,” he breathed in her ear. “And I’m very sorry in advance.”

“What?” She pulled back, but he had already launched into movement.

Unlatching the window at his elbow, he thrust it open, scooped Daphne into his arms and threw her through the opening.