Page 36 of Kingdom of Locks

More significantly, Aurelia was still heartened by her recent discovery of her own ability to stand up to her persecutor. Mama Gail might feel helpless at their continued captivity, but Aurelia was feeling—for the first time in her life—like she might have some power in the situation. Her eyes fell again on the key as she began the rather tortuous task of braiding her own unmanageably voluminous hair. Cyfrin had given her something, even though doing so apparently carried some risk to himself. He undoubtedly had a sinister purpose behind it, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d given it toher. If she was smart about it, she might just be able to figure out how to use it to fight back.

Taming her hair took a full hour. Although the result was nowhere near as neat as Mama Gail’s usual creations, it did succeed in making it possible for Aurelia to move freely about the room. As quietly as she could, she eased the door to the bedroom open. Pleased to see that Mama Gail remained deep in a much-needed sleep, she closed it again, and took up the broom.

Still gripped by her new feeling of purpose, she sang as she swept. It was a simple, foolish ditty, one Mama Gail often sang while doing household tasks. Aurelia put her heart into the cheerful tune, her thoughts on the beauty of the day, on her dreams for a future free of the tower, and on her determination to use the power and confidence that was only just beginning to emerge within her.

She swept the room clean in no time at all, making a pile of dust near the window. Before going to fetch the tray into which she would sweep that dust, she paused, leaning on the windowsill and gazing out at the quiet clearing.

The birds had fallen silent for the moment, and even the breeze had died down. All was still, nothing indicating that the quaint stone tower was actually a prison. A movement at the edge of the trees drew Aurelia’s attention, and she turned her head, expecting to see a fox, or perhaps a rabbit so late in the morning.

Instead, her eyes fell on a tall, lean figure, emerging from the tree line with an energetic step Cyfrin had never used. Aurelia’s heart seemed to stop, her eyes widening at the sight of the second man she’d ever seen in her life. Even the obvious, world-shattering considerations of who he was and how he’d entered the hidden clearing were momentarily subsumed by her fascination with the person himself.

He was young, much younger than Cyfrin. She was no judge of the age of strangers, but his face looked as bright as her own did in the mirror, no sign of the lines that crinkled Mama Gail’s face when she smiled. His hair was tawny, close to the color Cyfrin often complained that Aurelia’s should be. Not unlike the honeysuckles that grew up the side of the tower. It was short compared to Aurelia’s, of course, but longer than Cyfrin’s closely cropped style. It was disordered as well, and she couldn’t quite tell whether it was curly, or simply heavily tousled.

The eyes that were locked on to hers in a reflection of her own shock were gray, like the color of clouds before a summer storm. And every line of his frame suggested energy and vitality.

He was, quite possibly, the most beautiful thing Aurelia had ever seen.

She felt her face suffuse with color as her heart picked up speed. If simply the sight of a well formed stranger caused this reaction in her, perhaps she was as foolish as Cyfrin always said, and as in need of protection as Mama Gail seemed to think. The man was probably an escaped inmate from the prison, not a figure of daydreams.

The thought reminded her that he may very well have dangerous magic, and she drew in a breath. All the questions her shock had temporarily held at bay flooded back. Who was he, and how had he gotten past Cyfrin’s enchantments? She was on the point of calling to Mama Gail when the stranger suddenly spoke, arresting her tongue.

“Hello.”

She blinked. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, precisely, but that casual greeting wasn’t it.

“Hello.” The reply was out of her mouth before she’d thought about it.

“Who are you?” the man asked, his voice carrying clearly through the still air up to her window. He looked around him. “What is this place?”

Aurelia frowned, shaking her head. “You first. Who are you? Are you one of the escaped prisoners?”

The man looked surprised. “You know about the escaped prisoners?”

“Yes,” said Aurelia, lifting her chin slightly. “I know all about it.”

“Well, that’s a relief, I suppose,” he said doubtfully. His eyes traveled up the tower. “I suppose you’re fairly safe up there.”

“I know that you have magic if you’re from the prison,” Aurelia said suspiciously. “But you won’t be able to get in here, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not from the prison,” he said quickly. “I’m from Fernford.”

“The capital?” Aurelia repeated, instantly distracted. “What’s it like?”

Again the man seemed surprised by her question. He paused for a moment, thinking it over. “It’s…busy,” he said. He glanced around. “Nothing like here. There are lots of buildings, lots of people. And it’s very colorful.”

Aurelia couldn’t quite hold in a sigh. It sounded wonderful. “Why is it colorful?” she pressed. “Are there lots of green trees?”

“There are trees,” he said, smiling a little. “But it’s the people who are colorful. Everyone wears bright fabrics in Fernford.” He gestured to his own garments, which consisted of tightly fitted leggings in a deep blue, and a tunic the color of a summer sky. Even the cloak over the top wasn’t black like Cyfrin’s traveling cloak. It was a deep red, with gold embroidery glinting in the sunshine. “Like this, but in every color of the rainbow.”

“I’ve seen rainbows,” Aurelia said, feeling a little defensive. “I know what colors there are.”

“Oh,” he said blankly. “That’s…good.”

Realizing she’d made a bit of a fool of herself, Aurelia hastened on. “If you’re not from the prison, why are you here?”

“I am here because of the prison break,” he clarified. “I’m part of the group searching for the fugitives.”

Aurelia relaxed slightly, then frowned. That made sense, and she didn’t want to believe this newcomer was a criminal. But she couldn’t just take his word for it. He might be unerringly honest, like Mama Gail. But he also might be a total liar, like Cyfrin.

---