Page 26 of Kingdom of Locks

“And the wall was definitely blown in from the outside?” Amell’s father pressed.

The warden nodded. “Undoubtedly. I’ll take you to the site myself, Your Majesty, and you’ll be able to see it. It doesn’t take an expert to recognize.”

“It’s not exactly a pattern,” Amell interjected, still caught up on the previous point, “but I notice that there haven’t been any fugitives apprehended anywhere in this whole section.” He pointed to the north western quarter of the marked circle, which was empty of any crosses. “What’s out there?”

“Nothing,” shrugged the warden. “Just forest. The area’s been searched, of course. There simply weren’t any prisoners hiding there.”

Amell frowned, considering the map again. The large blank space was quite noticeable. If there wasn’t anything there, why hadn’t any of the inmates caught within the ring chosen to hide in that direction? Perhaps it was worth him and Furn going for a quick look, just in case. It would certainly justify his inclusion in the trip if he found some fugitives who’d slipped through the net.

He was so captured by this idea, he barely heard the rest of his father’s discussion with the warden. He trailed behind the other two men as the warden took them to the site of the explosion, where cleanup was still very much underway. Most of the wing had been secured now, and the warden invited the king to personally interview the recaptured escapees.

“Yes, I’ve come prepared to do so,” Amell’s father nodded. “Since we couldn’t securely transfer them to the capital for questioning, I’ve brought my top interrogators with me today. I’ll summon them to join us.” He glanced at Amell. “Perhaps you’d better return to Tora and Sir Furnis, Amell.”

Amell looked up from the blackened stone he’d been examining, aggrieved. “I’m not so squeamish, Father,” he protested.

The king gave him an unimpressed look. “It’s not a question of squeamishness, Amell. Nothing untoward is going to be done to the prisoners. But interrogation is a delicate business requiring a high level of skill and training. A poorly timed interjection could ruin any chance of acquiring useful information.”

Amell opened his mouth to protest the assumption that he would interrupt the interrogation, but then thought better of it. He’d wanted a chance to explore that north western section of the perimeter.

“Very well, Father,” he said with dignity. “I’ll ensure that Tora is keeping out of trouble.”

“Yes, do that,” said the king, his attention already returning to the warden.

Amell strode through the ruins of the high security wing, scanning the group still gathered outside the building for sight of a familiar face. He’d expected to find Furn and Tora still mounted, so he felt a flicker of surprise when he’d scanned all of the riders without spotting them.

He did, however, come across Tora’s two guards, still astride their horses and chatting with a group of soldiers.

“Where’s my sister?” he demanded of them, and they both sprang to attention.

“Examining the prison’s kitchen garden, Your Highness,” one of them said.

“Sir Furnis is with her,” the other added hastily.

Amell refrained from asking the obvious question—why aren’t you?—instead striding around the side of the building in search of this kitchen garden. As soon as he rounded the corner, Tora’s familiar figure—too tall for beauty, she’d often informed him wistfully—came into view. She was in conversation with a gray-clad prisoner among the rows of vegetables, Sir Furnis in attendance. Once glance was enough to show Amell that his guard was as tense as the prince had ever seen him.

“Tora, what are you doing over here?” Amell asked, approaching the trio.

The prisoner bobbed a clumsy curtsy, her gaze curious as it passed over the prince. Her arms were full of herbs, and Amell could only assume that she was one of the trusted low security inmates the warden had mentioned.

“Hearing firsthand about the break out,” Tora said, glancing briefly at him before returning her attention to the prisoner. “So you felt it coming?”

“I don’t know if I’d say that exactly, Your ’Ighness,” she shrugged. “I felt some kind of surge, but it weren’t nothing I recognized. Too powerful by ’alf to be from someone inside. I wouldn’t’ve guessed what was coming or nothing.”

“I think we should rejoin the main group now,” Furn said tightly.

The prisoner cast him an amused glance. “Bless you, lad, I’m no threat to anyone. There’s a reason we don’t have a fence round the place. It’s not physical barriers keeping us restricted. That power surge did more than take out the walls. It broke the enchantment on the ’igh security wing, and a mighty complex enchantment that was, too. No idea how anyone would evenknowthe way to break it. But the one round the property is back now, even if it’s weaker’n it was.” She rolled her shoulders, a look of concentration coming over her face. “I can feel it now.”

“No need to test it,” Furn said dryly.

She chuckled. “Relax, guard. I’m not going to do your princess no ’arm. I’m not the violent type, or I would’ve been over in that blown up wing. ’Sides, I’m due for release in a month. I’m ’ardly going to do anything to mess that up.”

Furn grunted, not sounding entirely reassured, but Tora sent Amell a grin.

“I like her. Even if she’s disappointingly danger-free.”

The long-suffering look that passed over Furn’s face told Amell that he’d missed some joke, but he didn’t press.

“If you’re looking for something more interesting to do, I might have a suggestion,” Amell said instead, giving her a meaningful look.

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