But it didn’t matter, because Briar had done it. She had painted a curse to dampen her father’s power, and now she had him trapped among the ruins of what had once been the strongest fortress in the kingdom of Lure. Even better, the team was there to save them all.
They arrived in a rebellion of shouts, punctuated by thundering hooves and the strangled song of a very tired voice mage. Lew. Jemma. Nat. Esteban. They got there just in time to hold back the Larke soldiers trying to emerge from the dark confusion of Narrowmar. The clash of their weapons was sweet music to Archer’s ears.
Donovan and Briar looked as if they had been turned to stone, though lightning could strike between them at any moment. Neither knew Saoirse was dead. Donovan couldn’t find out until they were long gone from there. Archer wished Briar never had to find out.
The curse painters ignored the commotion as the outlaws tried to stuff the soldiers back into the stronghold, pushing them toward the exposed main corridor. More men were jammed in the narrow space, unable to wield their weapons properly against the team.
Archer needed to get back on his feet and fight with his friends, but his body wasn’t cooperating. He twitched helplessly, feeling as if he were locked in the stocks again, this time with fewer rotten vegetables and more broken bones. The others fought on without him, working to hold back the horde long enough to secure an escape route.
But they were forgetting someone. Archer tried to call out to Jemma, but he couldn’t speak through the blood collecting in his throat. Then a familiar face appeared in the gaping wound that had once been a fortress, next to the main corridor where the guard station had been. Looking frightened but resolute, Mae Barden crept out of Narrowmar at last.
She moved carefully to avoid drawing the soldiers’ attention and skirted around the curse painters, no doubt sensing she wanted no part in their battle. Dust matted her golden curls, and blood stained the hem of her pink dress. She spotted Archer lying on the ground, and a cry escaped her lips.
Archer smiled hazily as she started toward him. Maybe the mission was a success after all. Then Mae stopped as abruptly as if she’d walked into a wall. She stood still for a moment, looking at something on the ground.
She bent down and picked up a sword, its hilt wrapped in burgundy leather. Archer had left the dead captain’s sword beside his unconscious brother. That was what Mae was staring at so intently—Tomas, Archer’s careless, jovial brother. She hefted the sword in her pale hands.
“No.” Archer’s words gurgled through the bubble of pain. “Don’t, Mae.”
If she could hear him, she paid no attention. She tightened her grip on the sword, looking down at the man who had seduced and discarded her, who had turned to his ruthless father to clean up after his indiscretions. Who, through his irresponsibility, had threatened her life and nearly ended their illicit child’s.
Archer understood what Mae must be thinking, but Tomas was still his brother. They’d endured their father’s cruelty together, and even though Tomas had made selfish choice after selfish choice, Archer didn’t want him to die. He reached out to the friend whose life he had saved, unable to speak above a whisper, and pleaded with her not to kill his brother.
But Mae didn’t hear him. She raised the sword over Tomas’s body. Her face twisted with passion, a mix of hatred and betrayal and sorrow. She had always been quick to laughter and quick to anger. She hurled herself into every pursuit, whether it was friendship with the son of her father’s enemy or a love affair that had always been doomed. Archer hated to see her in anguish, but vengeance wouldn’t help—and it would change her forever.
Mae let the sword fall.
The blade clanged like a bell against the stony ground and clattered to rest a few feet away from Tomas’s still-sleeping form.
Archer dropped back, lacking the strength to hold up his head any longer. Mae had spared Tomas’s life despite how much grief he had caused her. There was still room for mercy in the cruel world the Larkes had created. Archer drew in a rattling breath. If there was room for mercy, there was room for change, and hope.
Then Mae was kneeling beside him, carefully touching his body, feeling the extent of his injuries. He couldn’t feel much himself anymore. He couldn’t hear much either, or see, now that he thought about it. Archer’s world faded to a muted buzz and skittered out of reach.
Chapter 34
Briar listened to the cacophony as her friends held back the soldiers. Relief flooded her body. The rain was falling harder than ever, and the paint on her skin would wash away soon, but the arrival of the others would give her time to escape. It was almost over.
Lew and Nat fought the soldiers among the rubble, using their brawn for all it was worth. Esteban and Jemma gathered up Archer and Mae and hoisted them onto the spare horses. They left a mount for Briar and charged back up the ravine.
“Hurry, lass!” Lew shouted. “We can’t hold them much longer.”
Briar backed away from her father, ready to dive in his way if he tried to curse Lew and Nat, but he slumped, as if his daughter’s opposition had drained his strength.
“Mark my words, Elayna Rose,” he said as she turned and limped to the waiting horse. “You will return home when you realize this world cannot match the family calling.”
Briar didn’t answer. She pulled herself into the saddle with her good arm, whimpering as she jarred her broken bones. Her ambulatory curse was still painted on the pommel, a reminder that she had the potential
