Page 106 of Kingdom of Locks

“And her tears fell on my eyes,” Amell chimed in. “That’s when I could see her again.”

“Ah,” said Bartholomew, smiling. “That actually sounds quite simple.”

“It does?” Aurelia asked blankly.

He nodded. “Well, it’s still a bit of a mystery as to why the magic Amell was carrying didn’t fight that curse off. I’m guessing here—Cyfrin’s work went beyond the boundaries of what we know of magical theory—but I would speculate that he didn’t cast it with the magic from your hair, but with the magic in him at the time, like any enchanter casting a normal spell. I doubt he even thought about it, but the fact that it was something so personal makes it likely he drew it straight from his core.”

“And that’s relevant because…” Amell prompted.

“Because of my theory that the magic from Princess Aurelia’s core responded particularly strongly to the magic from her hair. The power was interconnected, equal and opposite, perhaps. I think the power you were carrying, Prince Amell, was particularly effective in fighting back against the power in the hair. Perhaps not so much against a curse cast by Cyfrin in the usual way.”

“So why did my tears help?” Aurelia asked, bewildered.

“Oh, that’s the simple part. It was a basic matter of a curse with a counterforce. It doesn’t seem that Cyfrin built one in on purpose. So the curse was broken by the natural counterforce to the power with which he cast it. Judging by what he said to Prince Amell, he was motivated by sheer malice—quite literally taking delight from another person’s sufferings. Your tears were the opposite—you wept in selfless grief over someone else’s pain.”

“Oh,” blinked Aurelia. “That was clever of me.”

Bartholomew chuckled. “Indeed.”

“Is Aurelia in further danger from the magic being extracted, do you think?” Amell asked anxiously. “She was alarmingly weak when it first happened.”

“Well, it clearly didn’t kill her,” said Bartholomew. “If it was wrapped around her core, it wasn’t fatally so. I imagine her body will take some time to rediscover its own energy levels without the presence of the magic constantly buoying it up. She may feel quite weak and tired for some time to come. But I imagine that in time it will equalize, and she’ll be as strong as the next healthy young woman.”

“What about Amell?” Aurelia asked. “Is the power all gone from him now? Or is he still protected?”

Bartholomew looked the prince over carefully. “It seems to have spent itself in that final struggle,” he informed them. “So I’m afraid you’d best refrain from any death-defying exploits from now on, Prince Amell.”

“I have no interest in death-defying exploits,” said Amell fervently. “I want to stay put, and stay safe. How else can I help keep Aurelia safe, and make sure she’s happy?”

“Well, that’s certainly music to my ears.” Queen Pietra waded into the scene, her eyes passing in distaste over the wreckage of the ceiling. Her gaze softened as it came to rest on her son. “You’ve certainly been doing some growing, haven’t you, Amell? I take it your thoughts about marrying young after all weren’t purely theoretical.”

“They certainly weren’t,” Amell said. His eyes sought Aurelia’s, and she felt a flush rising up her neck. Amell had spoken to his mother about marriage? Because of her?

“Well, I can’t imagine there would be any objection from our end,” said the queen, her voice satisfied.

Mama Imelda cleared her throat, and a guilty look came over Amell’s face. Glancing around, he drew Aurelia past a clump of fallen stone, so that they were partially concealed by a bookshelf.

“Aurelia,” he said hesitantly. But he was clearly struggling to put whatever it was into words, because he bit his lip, anxiety on his face as he searched her eyes.

“What is it, Amell?” Aurelia asked, starting to feel a little concerned herself.

“Well, you know how I feel about you,” Amell said, his voice constricted. “I didn’t intend to tell you so soon—certainly not while you were still in the tower—but, well, it happened.”

“If by it, you mean a kiss that was—both literally and figuratively—magical, then yes,” said Aurelia, glowing.

Amell’s eyes softened, but the tension didn’t leave his forehead. “It was,” he agreed, in a low voice that sent a thrill down Aurelia’s spine. “Youare magical, Aurelia, and Cyfrin’s power never had anything to do with it. But…” He hesitated again. “But you deserve the chance to experience life a little more before you commit to anything. I mean, if we discount Cyfrin—which we absolutely should—I’m the first man you ever met. I wouldn’t be right to expect you to—”

“Will you stop?” Aurelia interrupted, exasperated. “I’ve had just about enough of people telling me I’m not capable, or thinking that I need to be shielded from life. Who are you to tell me I don’t know my own heart?”

Amell’s smile was a little sad. “Someone who would rather lose you altogether than take advantage of the generosity of that heart,” he said simply, reaching out to gently touch her cheek.

Aurelia captured his hand, trapping it under hers against her cheek. “I understand your concern, Amell,” she said quietly. “And I’m grateful for the consideration it shows. But I didn’t fall in love with you because you were the first man I met. I fell in love with you because day after day, without fail, you were kind, and thoughtful, and you took me seriously. Plus, you’re very handsome,” she added as an afterthought. “And a prince.”

Amell chuckled, and her eyes sparkled up at him.

“You kept your promises,” she said seriously, “which is more important to me than I can say. And you never expected anything in return. You make me feel strong when others call me weak, you make me feel beautiful even when I look like a criminal, and you make me feel worth protecting.”

“You are all of those things,” he murmured, resting his forehead against hers. “And so much more. I couldn’t help falling in love with you as soon as I got to know you.”

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