She frowned at Jemma. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” Jemma said. “That kiss back there … Archer got swept up in the moment. You shouldn’t think it means anything beyond that. Archer has a greater mission, one that could heal this land of the damages the Barden-Larke rivalry has caused, and he would raise a better son than his brother to steward both counties in the future.”
Briar lowered her brush and turned to Jemma, feeling that old destructive impulse rising up. The mountain seemed to tremble in response. “Are you telling me to stay out of the way of this grand destiny?”
“I’m telling you to stay away from Archer,” Jemma said. “I’ve warned him you’re dangerous, but he doesn’t listen to me.”
“He hired me because I’m dangerous.”
Jemma snorted. “I’m not talking about your ability to destroy wood and stone. You have the power to offer that boy exactly what he has always wanted. He envies freedom. His quips about his horse and his bow and the open road are sincere. You broke away from your past, and you are tempting him to run even farther from his.”
“That sounds like his decision not mine.”
Briar returned to her work, refusing to be intimidated. But as she painted the mountain with the nimbus of fire, the aroma of linseed surrounding her, she thought she smelled dry thatch and wood smoke, too, heard laughter and fiddles and drums. The image collapsed before it could form.
“Archer won’t abandon his duties,” Jemma said. “He set out on this mission to restore his family and change the way they treat their people. He could do such good for this land. Don’t make it harder than it has to be. If you care for him at all, walk away.”
The ground rumbled beneath them, above them. Somewhere on the mountain, the fight was escalating. Somewhere, Archer was risking his life to atone for his brother’s sins. Briar had known Archer and Mae had history, possibly romantic history, but she hadn’t fully understood they had a future too. Still, she resented that Jemma was telling her rather than Archer himself.
“What’s your stake in all this?” she asked. “You worked in the Larke household. You were Archer’s tutor or something, right?”
“I’m his mother.”
Briar’s hands jerked, paint smearing on the wall. The response seemed to have slipped unbidden from Jemma’s lips.
“You are never to repeat this.” Jemma stepped closer. “Archer himself doesn’t know.”
Briar turned slowly to face the older woman. Only the lantern stood between them, illuminating Jemma’s silver-and-blond hair, the same shade of blond as Archer’s.
“How is that possible?”
“I worked as a clerk for Jasper Larke. He took advantage of me.” Jemma’s voice was calm, matter of fact. “He kept my little boy—born right here in Narrowmar—just in case anything ever happened to his firstborn. His wife was already sickly then, unable to have more children. I swore to keep it secret to keep my position in his household, first as a clerk then as a tutor for his sons. I was willing to live in the home of my attacker if it meant I could see my child grow up. When Archer ran away, I was only too happy to follow.”
Briar released a breath, the exhalation echoing through the tunnel. “Why haven’t you told him?”
“I meant to when I caught up with him a few months after he left Larke Castle,” Jemma said. “But I worried he would go after his father in a rage and get himself killed. He controls his anger much better now than he did in his youth. But the longer I waited, the harder it was to explain why I hadn’t told him earlier.”
“Does Lew know?”
Jemma adjusted her red shawl. “Lew knows I had a child before I met him, but he thinks it died at birth. I am only telling you because I believe you will do the right thing.”
Briar blinked. “You do?”
“Yes.” Light flickered across the lines in the older woman’s face. She sounded sincere, and it caught Briar off guard. People had rarely counted on her to do the right thing.
“Whatever awful things are in your past,” Jemma said, “I believe you really are trying to be good. This is one of the ways you can show it. Mae is a sweet girl, and I believe she and Archer can raise a child who will not continue his father and grandfather’s legacy. They can change what it means to be a Larke.”
“And you want bigger things for Archer than a life of crime.”
“He deserves better than this,” Jemma said. “I think you see it too.”
Briar didn’t answer. Jemma’s revelations tumbled through her mind like stones in an avalanche. She understood what Jemma wanted for her son—and why Briar didn’t fit into that plan—but she didn’t know if Archer shared her ambitions. Did he really plan to marry Lady Mae? He had seemed to mean that kiss. On the other hand, he’d held back when he’d had other opportunities to kiss her. Was it because he had a different future waiting for him?
Her heart sinking, she looked at the other woman, seeking confirmation, reassurance, even sympathy. Fierce resolve showed in the set of Jemma’s mouth—but there was pain in her gaze too. This woman had sacrificed so much for a child who didn’t know her. Unsure what to say in the face of that pain, Briar turned back to the wall and opened her jar of carmine paint.
“I’d better go check on Nat,” Jemma said after a minute, her voice betraying just a hint of emotion, like the beginnings of a sore throat. “I should check the tunnel’s length anyway. We’ll need to turn left soon.”
“I’ll keep going here. Tell Nat he’s a hero.”
Jemma didn’t leave right away. “Will you be okay?”
“We have a job to do.” Briar kept her eyes on her work, on the meticulous shape of the curse. “We’ll
