She hadn’t known he was so close. He looked very tall as he loomed above them.
“Nat, go have a word with Jemma. She has a list of things for you to pick up from the market. We’re all going in separately so as not to draw undue attention.”
Nat scrambled to his feet. “Sure thing, boss.”
“And Nat?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t talk about my business unless I give you permission.” Archer turned deliberately toward Briar so neither would miss his meaning. “Especially to strangers.”
“Ain’t she one of the crew now?”
“No, she is not,” Archer said. “She said herself she has no intention of joining our merry band. It would do you good to remember that.”
Nat’s cheeks reddened. “Won’t happen again, boss.” He gave Briar an apologetic shrug before hurrying over to join Jemma, who was sorting through half a dozen small purses jingling with coins.
Archer squatted on his heels beside Briar as if nothing had happened. Nerves fluttered through her belly like moths in candlelight. She couldn’t tell if he was angry about her efforts to dig into his past.
“You’ll be going in with me to meet your paint merchant,” Archer said.
“I thought we were splitting up to avoid attention.”
“If something goes wrong, we can pick up all our supplies in other towns except for this snail paste of yours. You can’t do the curse without this particular paint, right?”
“That’s correct.”
“Then I will accompany you to make sure we get it.”
Briar frowned. “I can go by mys—”
“I don’t trust you,” Archer said.
“Of course not.” Briar reached reflexively for the paint satchel that wasn’t there. “You’ve certainly made no effort to hide it.”
“That’s right.” Archer’s eyebrows, so much darker than his blond hair, drew together, and his voice took on a touch of menace. “Nat means well, but he is the least senior member of this gang. Ingratiating yourself with him won’t save you if the rest of us decide you’re a danger to us.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Now,” he went on in a tone that would have been appropriate for discussing the weather or the price of fish, “can you think of any problems we might encounter in Mud Market? Specific people who would recognize you, or anything like that?”
Briar tapped her fingers on her tin cup, considering how much to tell him. “I’ve been there a few times, but the supplier we’re going to see is the only person I’ve spoken to at length.”
“Does he know your profession?”
“He sells paints. He knows enough.”
“Trustworthy?”
Briar met his eyes. “I trust him more than I trust you.”
Archer fell silent for a moment. Then he adjusted the quiver of arrows strapped to his back and said, “If you plan on trying to escape, I suggest you do it now. If you wait until we’re in the market, when it could cause a scene, I’ll have to kill you.”
His tone remained light, but Briar suspected he meant it. He veiled threats in pleasantries just as Jemma did. Briar was more afraid of Jemma than of Archer, though.
“I don’t plan to escape,” she said evenly.
“Are you sure? You have a free pass if you take it now.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do, actually. I don’t want anyone on the team who’s not committed to the mission.” Archer’s mouth quirked in a half smile. “And I don’t want to be a murderer any more than you do.”
Briar was surprised to find she believed him. She examined the tin cup, tracing the simple etching with her fingers, and considered taking him up on the offer to leave. She didn’t want to go back to being worse off than when she’d first arrived in Barden County. Despite the threats and the layers of secrets, the pay for Archer’s job was too good to walk away from now that she had lost everything.
Besides, she wanted to see if she could break those spells. “I will keep my word,” Briar said at last. “You needn’t fear betrayal from me.”
“Good.”
He gave her a full smile that might have even been genuine, and for a brief moment she forgot all about the threats. Her fingers twitched as if she were about to paint magic.
“Well, you’d best go see Jemma,” Archer said, springing to his feet. “She has a baby for you.”
Briar dropped her tin cup.
Chapter 6
Archer strolled toward Mud Market with Briar on his arm. He wore Lew’s broad-brimmed hat pulled low enough to block the noonday sun and hide his eyes. The heat of summer still lingered, rendering his itchy, rough-spun clothes far too warm. He carried a plain work knife at his belt, having left his bow and quiver behind. He felt a bit naked without them, truth be told. A blade of grass between his teeth completed the disguise.
At his side, Briar had a bundle of clothes stuffed beneath her faded, powder-blue dress, making her look at least eight months pregnant. Her thick hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and she’d adopted a remarkably convincing waddle. They looked like a young couple heading into town for supplies before the arrival of their bouncing bundle of joy.
“I don’t see why I have to be pregnant,” Briar muttered. “I could walk faster without all this extra fabric.”
“But you’re doing so well.” Archer patted her hand in what he imagined was a husbandly manner. “Besides, we shouldn’t rush. Country folk take their time in Mud Market. We don’t want to attract attention.”
“What kind of attention are you worried about?”
“We have prices on our heads for our audacious deeds. You probably do, too, by now, but no one is looking for a young mother.”
Briar glanced up at him through long eyelashes. “Have you done this before?”
“We tried, but the belly looks less convincing on Nat.”
They fell silent as a pair of farmhands joined them on the dirt road into town, greeting them with cautious nods. Archer nodded back, drawing Briar a little closer. He found he didn’t mind her warmth at his side, despite the
