Page 33 of Kingdom of Locks

“Well met, Prince of Fernedell,” said Rekavidur tonelessly, as if Amell hadn’t spoken. “We wish you success in your investigations.”

And without another word, the two dragons took to the air. The gust of wind caused by their departure was so strong, Amell had to lie flat against his horse’s neck to avoid being blown off. He felt branches whipping violently around him, but by the time he looked up, blinking, the forest was once again still. He gazed up in amazement. How the dragons had taken off through that thick canopy—and apparently without breaking a single branch—he couldn’t imagine. But they must have, because they were gone, leaving no sign whatsoever of their presence.

Amell gazed down at his cloak, trying to make sense of the bizarre encounter. One thing was certain, he thought fervently. He was glad he hadn’t included anyone else in this expedition. Having reminded Furn of the agreement between humans and dragons, it would be hard to explain the fact that he’d just broken it.

Not that he’d asked the dragons for help, he defended himself internally, as an image flashed before his eyes of the horrified outrage that would cross his father’s face if he found out the truth about Amell’s cloak.

The prince’s first instinct was to hurry straight on to the site in question, but a moment’s consideration made him regretfully abandon that idea. Even under the dappled shade of the trees, he could tell that the light was beginning to fade. Tora would be long gone by now, and Furn would undoubtedly be looking for him. He felt a squirm of conscience at the thought of his friend’s worry. They were camping at the prison overnight. He would have the opportunity to return the next day, with more light to explore. He just had to hope that any fugitives hiding under the concealment enchantment would stay put until then. It wasn’t like they had anywhere else to go, not with the protective perimeter still in place.

Turning his horse’s head, Amell started back toward the clearing where the prison was situated. By the time he reached the camp, the sun was slipping below the horizon, and fires were springing up in preparation for the evening’s simple meal.

Amell had barely slid down from his horse when a familiar voice hailed him.

“Your Highness! Where have you been?”

“Hi Furn,” said Amell, trying to sound casual. “Just exploring a little more.”

“I thought you were going to find us a place to sleep,” Furn demanded.

“I got sidetracked,” said Amell, with a shrug.

Furn’s eyes searched the prince’s face carefully, the distraction that had dogged him most of the day clearly gone. “And what did you find?”

“Lots of trees, mainly,” Amell said cheerfully. But he couldn’t quite meet his friend’s eyes, and he knew Furn had noticed it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d lied to his guard, even if it was a lie of omission.

“I’ve been too distracted,” Furn said unexpectedly. “His Majesty was wrong to trust me with your safety.”

“What?” Amell said, startled. “Nonsense! I’m perfectly safe, Furn, look at me. You’re the best guard any royal has ever had, and Father agrees with me.”

Furn didn’t respond, something in his eyes that almost looked like bitterness. Amell’s guilt rushed up again, and he gripped the other man’s arm. “I really am fine, Furn. And I won’t wander off again. I’ll stick with you.”

Furn nodded, still looking more troubled than the occasion called for.

“What’s going on, Furn?” Amell rallied him. “You’ve never been ruffled by my escapades before, and we both know how outrageous they’ve gotten.”

The guard gave a perfunctory smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Come on,” said Amell, starting to feel troubled himself. “Let’s find a place to camp. For real this time.”

Nodding dejectedly, Furn followed Amell across the camp. The prince noticed a pair of enchanters from the guild glancing curiously at him as he passed, and he pulled the cloak around his shoulders self-consciously. They could probably sense the magic on it, he realized, and it occurred to him that the dragon had chosen his object well for the artifact. Any enchanters would probably assume that the shielding enchantment on the prince’s cloak was intended for his general protection. Not a bad idea, really, with twenty-five magic-using criminals on the loose. Especially if he was going to lose his faithful guard. He would need all the protection he could get.

Amell faltered slightly, alarmed by the stray thought. Of course he wasn’t going to lose his guard. Furn’s strange moment of self-doubt didn’t signify his intention to resign from Amell’s detail. Furn would never desert him.

And yet, the uneasy feeling that something was changing between him and his most trusted friend lingered so powerfully in the prince’s mind, he struggled to fulfill his father’s prediction of a good night’s sleep on the simple pallet laid down among the soldiers.

His megrims of the night before were forgotten instantly upon awaking, however. The camp was bustling with activity, and a sense of looming adventure hung in the air. Amell had slept with his cloak pulled tightly around him, and he settled it on his shoulders with excitement. He was going to explore that clump of trees today, if he had to defy every guard in Fernedell to do it.

His eyes fell on Furn, who looked like he hadn’t slept nearly as well as his charge, and he remembered his promise the day before. Well, not every guard. He’d told Furn he wouldn’t wander off, so that was one guard he’d need to take with him.

It was no surprise to Amell that, in spite of his father’s talk of including him, the opportunity soon presented itself for him to slip away. The moment the king’s investigations required any delicacy of approach, he was only too happy to send Amell on a meaningless errand out of the way.

Pushing down a vague sense that he should be sticking around and demonstrating to his father that he wasn’t as unreliable as the king believed, Amell took the offered out. Within minutes he was saddling his horse, a resigned Furn beside him.

“We’re going back to the strange clump of trees, aren’t we?” the guard asked placidly.

Amell grinned at him. “You know me too well, Furn.” He twitched his cloak around him. “We might just find something this time, you never know.”

Furn said nothing, a faintly indulgent smile on his face. He may not look well rested, but his manner had thankfully returned to normal with the advent of the sun. There’d been no more disquieting talk of being unworthy of his role, and he no longer seemed unduly alarmed by the idea of danger. Perhaps he figured there was little trouble they could get into within the protected grove.

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