By contrast, Briar’s guarded manner relaxed bit by bit as they got farther north. She spoke more freely, and Archer even caught her smiling sometimes. She indulged Nat’s endless questions and listened graciously when Lew read snippets of poetry from the notebook he kept in his vest pocket. She became increasingly involved in the discussions about how to tackle the job ahead, asking about Narrowmar’s layout, history, and possible defenses. She’d even come to an uneasy truce with Esteban, though Archer didn’t understand why. Perhaps her work back by the Sweetwater had impressed the voice mage as much as it had impressed Archer.
Four days after they crossed into Larke County, Briar rode up beside Archer as the afternoon light turned gold and hazy.
“I’ve been working on something for you.” Her saddle creaked as she leaned toward him. “There’s one set for everyone, but I can make more if needed.”
She held out a small burlap bag made from the sack they’d ruined while trying to get the paint supplies out of Mud Market. Small objects clicked together inside as he accepted it.
“What are they?” Archer asked.
“Curse stones.”
He nearly dropped the little bag on the ground.
“They won’t work unless you touch the stone directly.” Her tone became noticeably drier. “That’s why they’re in the bag.”
“Right.”
“These are sturdier versions of those scrap curses I told you about. The stones are all different, so make sure you grab the right one. Use a glove or the side of the bag to touch them.”
Archer opened the bag carefully and peered inside, where he found three stones of different colors, tiny images painted on them with a fine brush. He imagined they hummed with magic, though that could have just been the wind.
“What do they do?”
“The blue one puts someone to sleep,” Briar said. “They’ll go under as soon as you touch them, but you have to rest the stone on their skin once they’re down.”
“What happens if it loses contact with their skin?”
“They’ll wake up instantly.”
“So be ready to run?”
“Exactly. The gray stone with the white design unlocks any door, providing it doesn’t have a spell on it. I’ve only ever done those on canvas, which tends to wear out quickly.” Briar’s voice took on an eager tone, a hint of genuine pride in her work. “I’m hoping painting it on stone will mean you can unlock several doors before the curse wears out. We might need them inside the stronghold.”
“Brilliant. And the black one?” The darkest stone had flecks of yellow and brown swirled into the black paint.
Briar hesitated, her eyes darkening despite the sunlight.
“That’ll cut like a knife,” she said. “And the wound will keep bleeding unless a mage heals it.”
“Whoa, Briar, don’t you make any nice curses?”
A pained expression flashed across Briar’s face, almost too quickly to catch, and her eagerness vanished. “I wasn’t sure if I should include that one, but after those men almost killed us, I thought … Just don’t use it unless you absolutely have to. Please.”
“I won’t.” Archer felt bad for making light of Briar’s contribution. She had asked not to kill anyone, but a cut that required mage healing would be a death sentence in many cases. Giving one to each of them had cost her, and the significance wasn’t lost on him. “Thank you for this.”
Briar blushed, tugging a strand of hair across her cheek. “It’s nothing.”
Archer knew it wasn’t nothing. Esteban and Lew were wrong. It wasn’t just another job to Briar. She might not know it herself yet, but somewhere along the way—perhaps in Mud Market or after the Sweetwater crossing—she had started to consider herself part of the team too.
Briar rode off to give the others their bags of curse stones. Nat listened so carefully to her instructions, he let his horse wander off and chew on the long grass at the roadside. Briar had to follow him into the weeds to finish her explanation. Nat held the bag of curse stones with such reverence that Archer nearly took it just so he would pay attention to his surroundings.
“I can handle this, Archer,” Nat said fervently. “Blue for sleep. Gray for locks. Black for death. Easy.”
Briar grimaced at the reference to death, but she didn’t correct him. She moved on to present a bag of stones to Esteban, who accepted them with sullen politeness. He appeared to be trying to be more cordial to the curse painter, but cordiality for Esteban was a large stride away from civil for everyone else.
“Our curse painter is certainly full of surprises,” Jemma muttered, falling in beside Archer. She held the bag of curses as if it were a dead rat.
“Even you can see how useful these will be.”
“I’m not complaining,” Jemma said. “But I don’t think we’ve seen our last surprise from Miss Briar. I told you she’s dangerous.”
Archer didn’t argue, but whatever dangerous past Briar had left behind, it had nothing to do with their mission. She might be at war with herself over how she wanted to use her abilities, but she would get the job done. He felt increasingly confident that hiring her had been the right move, no matter what she was hiding.
Chapter 13
Briar was determined to crack the puzzle of Narrowmar Stronghold. Set directly into a natural fissure in the mountains, it made an even more interesting challenge than Larke Castle. She mulled over how to tackle the fortress as they veered to the northeast through sprawling farmland. Ruins scattered across the surrounding countryside suggested the area had once been far more populated, its inhabitants owing fealty to the lords of Narrowmar. In ancient days, it had housed the kings of a lost nation.
Briar didn’t mind the change in destination. Narrowmar was as far from High Lure as one could get without leaving the kingdom. No one out there would recognize
