Page 39 of Kingdom of Locks

“What’s wrong?” Aurelia asked. “Aren’t you able to pull your weight up?”

“No, I…I’m sure I can,” Amell said. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

Aurelia’s heart picked up speed again, and she told it firmly to calm down. If Mama Gail was right, that level of basic consideration was the minimum one person should be able to expect from another, not a sign that this Amell was the type of hero childhood daydreams were made of.

“You won’t,” she assured him. “I’m taking the weight with my arms, not my head. And you don’t look too heavy.”

A rueful look passed over Amell’s face, but without further protest, he placed one foot on the wall of the tower and pulled himself up. Aurelia felt his weight transfer from the ground to her hair, and her arms quivered from the strain. Bracing herself against the wall under the windowsill, she focused on the familiar task of perfecting the tension required to enable her visitor’s ascent.

Her position didn’t allow her to watch through the window anymore, but she could feel Amell drawing closer, and hear his occasional grunts of effort. All at once, he appeared in the windowsill, and the tension on her hair slackened as he shifted his weight onto the stone, crouching in the opening with apparent disregard for the sheer drop behind him.

“Well,” he said, breaking into an endearing smile that seemed to laugh at himself rather than at her, “I think that was the strangest thing I’ve ever done.”

“For me, on the other hand, it was utterly mundane.” She nodded. “Careful now. You don’t want to fall backward when the enchantment stops you from getting through.”

“Oh, I forgot about that,” said Amell. Casting his eyes around, he spotted the metal ring through which Aurelia’s hair was still threaded, and gripped onto it with one hand. Narrowing his eyes in anticipation, he leaned forward, clearly expecting resistance.

Except, to Aurelia’s amazement, he met none. Apparently he was also taken off guard, because he lost his balance, toppling forward into the room with a clunk that Aurelia feared would wake Mama Gail.

She glanced at the doorway to the bedroom, but there was no sign of movement. When she turned back around, Amell had straightened, and for the first time she had to look up to see his face. She froze, her heart pounding erratically and her color once again rising, able to do nothing but stare at the young, attractive, and veryrealman standing impossibly in her tower.

Chapter Nine

Amell’s breath caught in his throat at the way the girl—Honeysuckle—was looking at him. He’d never felt so conspicuous, but her gaze didn’t seem critical. On the contrary, she was looking at him like he was the most impressive thing she’d ever seen, and it made him uncomfortably aware of how far from the truth that was.

She, on the other hand, was perfect, at least in appearance. Her dark hair flowed around her slim form and up to the hook, like a voluminous train, mesmerizing in its strange beauty. She raised a hand to tuck a loose strand behind her ear, and Amell found himself staring back at her delicate features, and striking blue eyes. The unusual combination of coloring struck a chord in his memory, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. He was too distracted by the woman in front of him, more dreamlike and fantastical than anything his overactive mind had ever made up, and yet as real and solid as himself.

Not that solid was the word he would choose to describe her. She wasn’t much shorter than him, but she was willowy, her slight frame belying the strength it must have taken to half pull him up that tower wall.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “I guess the enchantment didn’t work on me.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it without speaking. When she tried again, her voice came out a little hoarse. “How did you do that?”

Amell shrugged. “I don’t know. I just…could. There was no barrier that I could sense.” He twitched the fabric of his cloak. “Maybe this artifact shields me against the restraining enchantment as well.”

He wasn’t convinced, however, and he could tell it came through in his voice. The dragon Rekavidur had been quite specific about the function of the cloak. And he hadn’t known about the restraining enchantment, so it was unlikely he would have molded his magic to counteract it.

“Or maybe there is no enchantment keeping people out,” Honeysuckle mused quietly. “It’s just the kind of lie he’d tell, wanting me to think he was protecting me. Maybe he didn’t think it was necessary, given the whole place is hidden.”

“Plus there’s no easy way up without using your hair,” Amell chimed in, feeling absurd as he said the words.

Honeysuckle—could that ridiculous name be real?—nodded slowly. “You did well to pull yourself up without practice,” she commented. “You’re stronger than you look.”

Amell smiled ruefully. “I’m not sure if that was a compliment or an insult.”

Honeysuckle gave a sudden laugh, surprising herself as much as him if he was any judge. “Neither am I, to be honest.”

“I’m amazed that it didn’t hurt you,” said Amell, his eyes on that unbelievable hair, still dangling out the window. Looking self-conscious, Honeysuckle drew it quickly through the loop and gathered it into her arms as he continued. “Or that it didn’t break.”

“Yes, well, I think the magic makes it stronger than normal hair,” she said matter-of-factly. “In addition to making it, you know…grow really long.”

“The magic?” Amell asked, comprehension dawning. Of course her hair was affected by magic. He should have realized it.

Honeysuckle nodded. “Plus you’re lighter than Cyfrin.”

“Cyfrin?!” Tensing instantly, Amell took an unconscious step toward her. “Did you say Cyfrin? Is that the name of the enchanter who’s been holding you captive up here?”

Honeysuckle nodded again, her expression suddenly wary. “Do you know him?”

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