Page 33 of Legacy of Thorns (Kingdoms of Legacy #3)
Daphne
D aphne’s parents had trained her in self-defense, but she had little hope against the two burly men who held her on either side. There was, however, one thing Daphne did better than unarmed combat.
Sleep.
“What do we do, boss?” one of the men asked, his voice edgy. The noise and voices were growing louder.
Without waiting to hear Barlowe’s response, Daphne dropped into a nap, slumping toward the ground.
She wasn’t really asleep, but she knew perfectly how to fake it, and her captors were taken completely off guard.
Unprepared for her sudden dead weight, their grips faltered, and she collapsed into a heap on the road.
“She’s asleep again!” one of them exclaimed in disgust, just as a chaos of fresh voices broke over the scene, this time from the village side of the gate.
“Look! There!” shouted an unfamiliar man.
The words were followed by an enraged bellow that reminded Daphne strongly of Morrow. A barrage of orders, shouts, running feet, and carriage wheels flooded Daphne’s senses.
“To the carriage!”
“Get him in!”
“No! No! Forget that one!”
“Kill them all!”
The last made Daphne’s eyes spring open. She caught a glimpse of Barlowe, half hanging out the window of the moving carriage, shouting his orders back to the men he had left behind.
The ringing sound of drawn weapons came from above her, and she rolled forward, losing her mask in the process. Legs moved in all directions, and she jumped to her feet, several steps away from her captors.
Archer had already recovered from his retching and was on his feet as well, a dagger in his hand.
When she popped up beside him, he seized her wrist, swinging her around so they stood back to back.
Barlowe’s remaining men surrounded them, the circle drawing in closer as they took in Archer’s single blade and Daphne’s empty hands.
A wordless shout of challenge made the closing circle falter. The guests departing from the ball had stopped in confusion and were milling some distance away, but pounding feet sounded from the direction of the village, and the shout came again.
Archer grinned. “Morrow.”
Barlowe’s men sprang into action at the name, stampeding forward to seize Archer and Daphne. Daphne grabbed the arm of the first man, using his own momentum to send him spinning past her onto the ground.
As she twisted, she caught a glimpse of the approaching runners, one head standing out above the others, the man’s shoulders drawing as much attention as his height. At his side ran a slim woman with a blade in both hands.
Daphne didn’t have time to smile before she faced her next attacker, and this one carried a sword. Using the long blade to protect himself, he seized her, holding her against his chest with an arm around her neck, like a human shield.
Another of Barlowe’s men approached them, his own blade held threateningly in their direction.
“I’ll be taking her,” he growled, making it obvious why he had turned on his comrade. There weren’t enough hostages to go around.
Her captor spat something in reply, and Daphne seized his momentary distraction to bite down hard on his hand. He screamed and pulled back. Using the same maneuver as she had used on Fin all those weeks ago, Daphne threw him over her shoulder—directly into the second man.
“Morrow!” she screamed as she ran toward the approaching rescue party. “Nisha!”
Two of the remaining men were fighting Archer, but another lunged forward, catching her wrist and jerking her back so hard she nearly fell, her shoulder screaming in pain. But he was too late. Morrow had reached them.
Daphne twisted her arm, breaking free of her captor’s grasp before she whipped her arm back to smash the side of his head with her elbow.
“Daphne!” Morrow followed her blow with a second one that downed the man.
Nisha reached her next, a drawn sword in either hand and her teeth bared. Behind her followed an unfamiliar man with his own drawn sword, his expression dangerous despite his young age. He was accompanied by a woman whose face niggled at Daphne’s memory, although she couldn’t immediately place her.
“Don’t let them flee!” an older voice called from the back of the group, and the two strangers broke off to pursue the two men making for the treeline.
“Barlowe ordered all of us killed—even the two of you,” Daphne panted out to Morrow and Nisha, warning them of the danger.
But from the expressions on both their faces, they welcomed an attack. Daphne stepped back, letting them surge ahead of her. If someone else wanted the fight, she was more than happy to leave it to them.
Within minutes, the flurry of fighting was over. Two men groaned on the ground at Morrow’s feet, his threatening expression keeping them from any attempt to stand. Nisha had returned her swords to their scabbards on her back and was hauling a third man to his feet.
“Do you have any more rope?” Archer called to the two strangers, sounding almost cheerful as he restrained a kneeling man.
The two who had accompanied Nisha and Morrow had the attempted escapees bound by the wrists and were leading them back toward the rest of the group. The woman nodded and handed her prisoner to the man, hurrying over to Archer with a fresh length of rope.
“Always trust a merchant to have what’s needed,” Lorne said from the road behind them, a chuckle in his voice.
“A merchant?” Daphne looked at the woman again, finally remembering where she had seen the brown-haired young woman before. “Avery? What are you doing here?”
The roving merchant girl had stopped in Daphne’s Glandorian hometown more than once, although she’d traveled alone then.
“I’m the friend Lorne mentioned.” Avery gave a cheerful smile.
“And you must be Daphne. From Thebarton in Glandore, right? I meet a lot of new faces in my travels, but the ones who’ve moved kingdoms are few and far between, so they stand out.
” She squinted her eyes in an effort of memory. “You napped a lot, yes?”
Daphne nodded. “I still do.”
The man approached, his eyes running over Avery in concern. “Are you all right?” he asked quietly, and she gave him a reassuring look that shone with so much love Daphne had to look away, feeling like an intruder.
From the wedding band on Avery’s finger, she had acquired a permanent companion in her travels since Daphne last saw her.
“Daphne!” Lorne pulled her into a reassuring embrace, and for a second she let herself rest before voicing the thought that had been ringing in her mind since she opened her eyes from her false nap.
“Where’s Finley? Did you see what happened to him? Barlowe put him to sleep with an Oakdenian blade, but I didn’t see…”
“They hauled him into the carriage.” Archer pulled the knot he was tying extra tight, his voice grim.
“With a crowd approaching from both sides, Barlowe abandoned me and fled for his carriage, but Finley was closer and already incapacitated. Two of Barlowe’s men managed to load him in before the driver got the horses moving.
Barlowe escaped with Finley and a carriage full of his men. ”
“At least they didn’t get you both,” Lorne said gravely. “I take it you’re the brother.”
Archer nodded. “I’m Archer.”
“And I’m Lorne. The two with me are Avery and Elliot, roving merchants and friends of mine.
I left the ball to consult them, but they insisted on hurrying back with me right away.
It was a good thing they did—and an even better thing that we met these two on the way.
” He nodded toward Morrow and Nisha. “They’re a distinctive pair, so I took a guess they were the friends Daphne had described and hailed them. ”
“But what happened?” Avery asked, surveying the six captured men, all now bound. “Lorne said he left you in the ballroom!”
“Barlowe recognized Finley.” Daphne explained briefly about their flight and Fin’s subsequent return, leaving out the information about his father’s true identity.
“Fin should never have trusted Barlowe.” Archer sounded angry. “He’s always getting himself into trouble with his misguided determination to protect me.”
“Maybe he wouldn’t feel the need to protect you if you didn’t sneak out of windows and run off on your own every chance you get,” Nisha said caustically.
Archer had the grace to look shamefaced.
Morrow shook his head. “It’s our fault, really. We should have guessed what he was about as soon as he said he was going to bed early.”
“You discovered he was gone and came after him?” Daphne asked, and Nisha nodded.
“And now we’ll go after Finley.” Morrow said the words matter-of-factly. “Do you know where Barlowe’s taken him?”
“He’ll be heading for his castle.” Daphne frowned. “Or the castle he’s been claiming as his, anyway. But Fin’s the one who knew where it was.” She looked at Lorne. “Something about a southern lake and cherry blossoms? Supposedly there’s a white castle on the lake.”
“That must be on the southwestern border of the forest.” Lorne’s brow creased. “The road from Ethelson to the capital passes just to the east of the lake, so I’ve been through the area several times. I don’t remember a white castle, though.”
Before Daphne could explain about the sleeping girl and the wall of thorns, the milling group near the manor door finally worked up the courage to approach.
As they took in the scene and the six bound men, their exclamations and questions grew louder and louder, attracting a growing crowd from inside the manor.
Lord Castlerey pushed through them. “Now, now,” he called, “what’s this?” He looked disapprovingly over the group until his eyes fell on Lorne. “Lorne! What are you doing out here? What has happened?”
“I’m afraid this group of men attacked my goddaughter, Daphne.” Lorne drew her forward. “They were threatening her with swords when we luckily arrived on the scene.”
Several women screamed, and a fresh burst of chatter broke out among the watching guests.