Before Larke could open the door to his sitting room, the Drydens stepped smoothly into his way.
“Pardon, my lord,” Donovan said. “We have been using your antechamber as a studio in your absence, and it is cluttered with canvases and other tools of our trade.”
Larke’s jaw tensed. “Is that so?”
“Indeed. It might not be the best place for us to talk.”
“We have had the East Hall cleaned up,” Saoirse said. “Perhaps we can speak there.”
“Oh, yes,” Donovan said. “It contains some excellent examples of the ancient stone craft. It’s a shame it isn’t often used. Let us go.”
Archer felt a stab of panic. He’d suggested the sitting room because it was close to the front of the stronghold. He needed to keep his father and his new friends away from Mae for a while yet.
But Donovan and Saoirse set off down the corridor without waiting for a response.
Larke’s face turned as red as a poison oak rash. He was not happy about his space being commandeered or his hired mages dictating their movements, but he managed to keep his voice polite as he caught up. “You mean the chamber at the end of the eastern passage? Very well. As I recall, it has a rather fine fireplace.”
Donovan inclined his head. “I have never seen finer.”
“Wait!” Archer shouted.
“Yes, Lord Ivan?” Saoirse looked back at him.
He scrambled for an excuse. “Isn’t … isn’t it nicer to chat in a more intimate setting?” If he remembered correctly, the East Hall was far too close to where they had planned to open their tunnel. At the end of the main corridor, two passages branched deeper into the mountain, east and west. Mae was most likely being held down the eastern passage. “Maybe one of the rooms in the western—”
“Nonsense.” Larke’s voice was a whip crack. “The East Hall it is.”
Archer had no choice but to follow. After being ordered around by the curse painters, his father would never put up with Archer disrespecting him too. Why was he tolerating those two? There had to be more going on there than the procurement of a Larke-Barden heir. Jasper Larke wanted something from the Drydens. How could Archer use that to keep them away from the tunnel?
Saoirse glanced over at Archer with a faint smile. He grinned toothily back, praying the others had already gotten out of the stronghold. With luck, they were meeting up with Esteban and Lew in the forest. At least they wouldn’t be in the East Hall itself.
They approached the fork at the end of the main corridor, where a stone gargoyle stood sentry between the two branching passageways. Water spewed from the gargoyle’s mouth into a wide stone basin. A freshwater spring bubbled up from beneath the mountain there, one of the reasons Narrowmar had withstood every siege in its history.
“I heard this place was built by mages like you,” Archer said, slowing to examine the gargoyle and the basin beneath it. “Is that true, Mistress Dryden?”
“Not curse painters,” Saoirse said. “Stone crafters, sometimes known as stone charmers. They are exceedingly rare. We have not managed to find one in over ten years.”
“What do you do when you find one?” Archer asked.
She ignored the question, trailing her paint-smudged fingers in the water basin. “Narrowmar is the finest example of stone craft in Lure and all the surrounding lands. We have yet to see its equal.”
“Is that why you’re here?” Archer asked.
“We were hired to protect this place,” Donovan said. “You ought to be pleased we are guarding your inheritance.”
“He is pleased,” Archer’s father said smoothly. “Though Ivan does not stand to inherit Narrowmar. That will go to my eldest son, Tomas, and his son after him.”
“Oh yes.” Saoirse looked up from the water, a strange light dancing in her eyes. “His son.”
Archer didn’t understand why she suddenly looked so gleeful. It didn’t matter. Mae and the heir she carried would soon be out of reach of both the Drydens and the Larkes. He imagined her emerging from a mountainside tunnel, holding her belly, surrounded by Jemma, Nat, and Briar. They would race through the forest, find the horses and the others, take to the open road. They would be free, as long as Archer could distract these three a little longer. He grinned at the stone gargoyle the Drydens admired so much, already feeling a hint of relief.
Then they turned down the eastern corridor—and abruptly found themselves facing Briar and Mae, who had just entered it at the other end.
Briar was covered in gray dust, and she wore pure determination like armor. Mae was wide-eyed and pale, clutching a bundle of burgundy cloth in her arms. Only a few dozen paces separated them from Archer and the others.
The two girls stared at the curse painters and Lord Larke with looks of twin shock. Which was nothing compared to the shock on the faces of Donovan and Saoirse Dryden.
Chapter 28
Briar’s parents had never been slow to react before, but she was clearly the last person they expected to find attempting to steal their prisoner. Their astonishment gave her the tiniest edge. She used it.
She plucked a black curse stone from her pocket and hurled it as hard as she could at the distinguished man with thick brown hair standing between her parents. It struck his forehead, cutting deep. Briar was already reaching for her paints.
“Run,” she hissed to Mae.
“But—”
“Go! Get as far away as you can.”
With a frantic gasp, Mae clutched her baby tighter and ran.
Briar yanked paints indiscriminately from her satchel and began daubing rough lines on the floor. Her parents had turned to look when the curse stone struck their companion—Lord Larke presumably. He was bleeding heavily, crimson streams dripping onto the collar of his fine coat. Briar’s father reached for the man to try to stop the
