He shrugged and nodded toward the darkness beyond the spring. “This way, if you please.”
Jemma had the watch, and she was sitting cross-legged on the other side of the spring with her shawl wrapped tightly around her. Her eyes narrowed as Archer and Briar strolled past. Archer gave her a toothy grin and offered no explanation.
“Where are we going?” Briar asked as they left the camp behind and walked along the edge of a vast wheat field.
“You’ll see.” Archer winked. “I’d hate to ruin the suspense.”
He swung his arms casually as he strolled through the night, seeming to know exactly where he was going. Briar kept a hand on the bag of curse stones she’d slipped into her pocket. Archer acted at ease with her, as if he truly trusted her, but she couldn’t strip away the wariness of a lifetime so easily.
The fresh-cut aroma of harvest season tickled her nose and made her skin itch. The farmers had been scything across their lands, piling straw in stacks and bringing the wheat in for threshing. The crispness of early autumn filled the air, and the stars burned bright overhead. It would be their last night in the open countryside before they reached the forest pooling at the bottom of the Bandon Mountains and disappeared once more into the trees.
“What were you working on so intently back there?” Archer asked after a while.
A smile tugged at Briar’s lips. “I have an idea for how to get into Narrowmar—something I didn’t even consider at first because of the dangers involved. I don’t know if it’ll work yet, but if it does, we should be able to build a solid plan around it.”
“I knew you’d come up with something.” Archer glanced down at her. “There doesn’t seem to be much you can’t do with your curses.”
“Well, I need a few more trials,” Briar said. “I don’t want to promise anything I can’t deliver.”
“You’re very particular about your work.”
“Isn’t that why you hired me?”
“I suppose it is.” Archer nudged her playfully with his elbow. “I ought to send Willem Winton a gift for bringing us together. I hear he likes ornate armor.”
Briar snorted. She wasn’t sure what to make of Archer’s behavior toward her lately. He had threatened her and told her explicitly she wasn’t part of the team, yet he also flirted with her and seemed to genuinely appreciate her skills. His admiration rattled her more than the threats.
“So, what’s this debt you need to pay?” she asked. “And why tonight, when we’re trying to avoid notice?”
Archer sobered, and she couldn’t read his expression in the darkness.
“I blame you for this, actually. Your insistence on only cursing people who deserve it got me thinking about some of the less-than-noble jobs I’ve pulled off. One in particular stuck with me.”
They reached the far corner of the wheat field and turned down a path strewn with chaff. A hint of music drifted through the night. It was faint at first, distant, but soon it swelled into a tapping, stomping rhythm. The sounds of laughter and conversation spilled toward them.
Briar slowed. “Maybe we shouldn’t—”
“No one will see us. Don’t worry so much.”
Briar followed Archer apprehensively toward the noise. They had avoided people as much as possible since entering Larke County, and she wasn’t sure why he would walk toward them now.
A little farmhouse was nestled between the wheat field and a dark-green expanse of alfalfa. Beside the house rose a large barn. Torchlight flooded out of its wide-open doors, dulling the stars. People milled between the house and the barn, dressed in humble clothing of rough wool and scuffed leather.
Briar caught Archer’s sleeve. “We can’t—”
“Shh, over here.” Archer slipped through the darkness alongside the barnyard to where a wagon lay just outside the spill of light. He hid behind it, positioning himself so he could watch the barnyard.
Briar crouched beside him, certain they would be spotted at any moment, but the farmers were having too much fun to pay attention to the strangers skulking in the shadows. They chatted and laughed and tapped their feet to the music. Many wore bright knit scarves or ribbons in their hair. Inside the barn, a table was spread with the remnants of a large meal.
A thin, dark-haired man stood by the barn door playing the fiddle. A young girl with similar features sat beside him, keeping time on a calfskin drum. Father and daughter struck up a livelier tune, and the others began to dance, twirling across a packed-dirt area that likely doubled as a threshing floor.
“They do this at different farms most nights throughout the harvest season,” Archer whispered in Briar’s ear. “They like to have a little fun after the threshing.”
The farmers danced faster, kicking up dust and chaff, filling the barnyard with motion. Briar spotted a few family resemblances—hair of a particularly red shade, a unique knobby nose—and she guessed four or five local families plus their hired hands were gathered for the celebration.
“It’s our lucky night,” Archer said. “This’ll keep them busy.”
“What exactly are we doing here?”
“I stole from the family who works this farm a few years back.” Archer’s voice lowered, becoming serious. “I was desperate, and I probably would have starved if I hadn’t. Still, I prefer to steal from people who have coin to spare. Since we’re in the neighborhood …”
He drew a fat purse out of his pocket and tossed it in the air, catching it with a metallic clink.
“You’re paying them back.” Briar was starting to realize she knew very little about thieves—and this thief in particular. The purse looked heavy. The family had probably never owned that much coin. “With interest.”
“It’s your fault really,” Archer said. “I guess you could say I was inspired.”
Briar blushed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She was hardly the type of person to inspire good deeds in others.
“Why do you need me, though? You want me to paint a distraction?”
“I don’t need you,” Archer said. “I mean—I just
