Page 41 of Kingdom of Locks

“I’m sorry,” Amell stuttered, taken aback by her suddenly defiant tone. “I didn’t mean—”

“And you’re foolish not to be worried about his magic,” she told him frankly. “He’s more powerful than you realize, and if I’m in the room—which I always am—he’ll have an unbeatable source of magic. I, for one, don’t want to give him cause to extract it in order to kill you, thereby killing me in the process.”

“Of course I don’t want that either,” said Amell quickly. “I just meant that I would fight back if—”

“Fighting isn’t just about swords and armor,” scoffed Honeysuckle, once again cutting him off. “Mama Gail and I have been fighting for years, with no weapons except a stubborn refusal to give in to despair. And that’smuchharder than some paltry sword fight, believe me.”

“I do,” said Amell, as enchanted as he was astonished by this sudden burst of fire from the apparently docile girl. “I do believe you.”

Honeysuckle nodded with lofty grace, and a slow grin spread across Amell’s face.

“You’re stronger than you look as well.”

She sniffed. “I know I am.” She was trying to sound superior again, but Amell could tell that she was pleased with the compliment. His grin grew.

Honeysuckle surveyed him doubtfully, the appealing pink of her cheeks suggesting that she wasn’t entirely impervious to his smiles.

“Well, shall we try it?” Amell asked pleasantly, extending his hand.

Honeysuckle stared at it with as much wary fascination as one might regard a rearing snake. Her gaze traveled to his face.

“Try what?”

“Getting you out of here,” Amell said, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. He’d stumbled into an adventure more strange than even he could imagine, and he was wasting it standing around talking.

Honeysuckle apparently caught his restlessness, because without another word, she slipped her hand into his, a reckless air about the gesture. Her fingers were cool under his warm ones, and trembled slightly in his grip. For a moment Amell forgot what he was doing, every sense focused on the point of contact. Then, with a slight shake of the head, he turned toward the window, tugging her gently behind him.

It was only when he reached the casement that he remembered there was only one way down.

“I suppose we’ll have to use your hair again,” he said apologetically.

Sighing, Honeysuckle let go of his hand and gathered her hair in her arms. She slipped it through the hook, lowering it gradually toward the ground.

“It’s not going to work,” she told him. “I’ve tried many times.”

“Try once more,” Amell coaxed. “Just to humor me.”

Shaking her head a little, Honeysuckle climbed nimbly up onto the windowsill, her skirt pooling around her as she crouched. Amell could see the expert way she gripped her hair on both sides of the hook, but when she tried to lean out of the window, she just stopped.

She turned to him. “Like I said. I can’t leave.”

Amell frowned. “Let me try.” He pulled himself up onto the windowsill beside her. It was cramped with two, and their legs were pressed against each other’s. Trying not to get distracted, Amell gripped the metal hook and leaned outward. He swung forward so quickly, he almost lost his grip on the hook. Looking down, he swallowed at the sight of the ground, twenty feet below.

“So I can leave,” he said thoughtfully, his eyes passing to Honeysuckle. He swallowed again at the realization of how close their faces were. She looked dejected, and he felt a rush of guilt for getting her hopes up. “Maybe it’s the cloak. Here.”

Without giving himself time to think too hard, he extricated one arm, lifting his cloak with it. Passing his hand over Honeysuckle’s shoulder, he draped the voluminous cloak around her, so that it encompassed them both. They were even closer now, and he could smell the flowery scent of her hair. It was a little intoxicating, and he turned quickly away. Scaling sheer drops called for a clear head.

But when he leaned out, he could no longer swing far enough to be suspended in the air. One half of him moved cleanly, but the arm that was around Honeysuckle’s shoulders held him back. It was as if he was trying to pull her through a solid wall instead of open air.

Glancing at her, he caught her wince as he tugged, and he quickly reeled himself back in with a hasty apology. Once he’d scrambled down from the windowsill, he reached out to help her return to the safety of the stone floor. Blushing furiously, she took his hands, letting go as soon as she’d stepped down, so she could gather her hair to her again.

Amell frowned at the window, his thoughts on the challenge before him. “I see what you mean about the restraining enchantment,” he mused. “And clearly it’s not the cloak that’s allowing me to get past it. Unless it only works on me…but that’s not how artifacts usually work, from what I know.” He drew his eyes to hers with determination. “I think Ihadbetter stay here, confront Cyfrin. We’ll just have to make him lift the enchantment.”

“You can’t do that!” Honeysuckle said, aghast. “He’ll kill you!”

“I’m not going to give up just because there’s danger,” said Amell firmly. He didn’t think even Cyfrin would dare to murder him once he discovered who he was, but there was no need to tell Honeysuckle that detail just yet.

“But what will you achieve?” Honeysuckle demanded. “If he kills you, I’ll be just as stuck as ever. And even if you get away, he’ll know this clearing has been discovered, and he’ll move me to somewhere else, and I’llstillbe just as stuck as ever.”

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