Page 42 of Kingdom of Locks

Amell frowned, not convinced, and she pushed on.

“That is, provided I’m not dead from him extracting magic from my hair in order to kill you.”

Amell let out his breath in a sigh. That point was unarguable.

“But what am I supposed to do?” he protested. “Just…leave? And do nothing?”

“For now, yes,” she said. “Can’t you get help and come back tomorrow? Cyfrin’s never here during the day.”

He frowned, and not just because it was such a tame suggestion. The idea of Cyfrin coming that very evening and forcing this girl to be a passive vessel for his magic, knowing the process might kill her, was unendurable. Of course Amell knew it had been happening for seventeen years, and that one more night shouldn’t matter so much. But there was a crucial difference—he hadn’t known about it before, and he did now. And that being the case, he couldn’t be comfortable doing nothing.

“Amell,” Honeysuckle said seriously, and her first use of his name caused him to still, meeting her eyes and listening not just to her words but to the earnest plea in her voice. “I don’t know why or where you got that cloak, but I do know that you are the best—no, theonly—chance we’ve had to get out of here, in seventeen years. Please don’t mess it up by doing anything rash.”

Amell swallowed, suddenly overwhelmed by the seriousness of the situation, and the weight of his own responsibility in it. He’d been chasing excitement all his life, but this wasn’t some adventure. ThiswasHoneysuckle’s life. And she couldn’t afford for him to be his usual reckless self.

He nodded meekly. “If you think it’s best for me to leave and come back tomorrow, that’s what I’ll do. But if I’m going after help, it’s best for me to know as much as you can tell me about what Cyfrin’s up to. What’s his role in the prison break?”

“None whatsoever, as far as I know,” said Honeysuckle, sounding surprised. “He was furious when they built the prison so close to our tower, and he was raging about the break out when he came last night. He said he had to reinforce the protective enchantments as a result, and he clearly felt it was a waste of his magic.”

She brightened. “He talked like he was worried about the escaped prisoners, but I realize now that he must have been afraid the area would attract extra notice because of the break out.” Her eyes shone as she looked up at Amell, and he once again had the uncomfortable sensation of being far from the hero she thought him. “And he was right. We attracted your attention.”

He gave her a tight smile. “Of course he was right. The whole region is being combed. There were even dragons searching the woods today.”

“Dragons?” Honeysuckle’s eyes were as round as coins. “I’ve never seen one, and Mama Gail doesn’t know much about them. What are they like?”

Amell’s smile became more genuine. “They’re irritatingly cryptic, and a little surly, if I’m honest. Now what else can you tell me about Cyfrin’s activities?”

It wasn’t much, he reflected, once Honeysuckle had told him what she knew. Her experiences aligned with Bartholomew’s account of the enchanter’s intentions all those years ago. With a start, Amell realized that there had been no delay. Given Honeysuckle’s age, Cyfrin must have stolen her away and started experimenting with her hair soon after the guild expelled him. If only they’d kept better track of him, instead of letting him disappear!

“So your hair is carrying seventeen years worth of magic?” Amell said at the end of her account, his awed gaze passing over the dark tresses.

Honeysuckle nodded, her expression troubled as she gathered up a stray loop. Amell had noticed that she was protective of the hair, as if she wanted to keep it out of reach of danger.

“But what’s he planning to use all that power for?” Amell asked uneasily. “I can’t believe his interest in the concept of storing magic in living vessels is purely theoretical.”

“Definitely not,” agreed Honeysuckle. “He’s planning something, and every now and then he makes veiled comments about how they’ll all regret it. But I don’t know what he intends to do.” She hung her head slightly. “I’m sorry I don’t have more details to give you. Mama Gail has read every note in his study, but it’s not like he writes out all his dastardly plots. He just makes notes about the practical aspects of his magical experiments, and stores some of his theory books there. We put the pieces together as best we can.”

“Don’t apologize,” Amell reassured her. “Even just knowing that heisplanning something could be enough to prevent disaster.” She lifted her head again, and he was suddenly locked in her brilliant blue eyes. “But dealing with his plans is secondary,” he said, his voice coming out a little gruff. “The first priority is getting you and your mother safely out of here.”

She nodded gratefully, a shy smile spreading across her face. Glancing at one of the closed doors, she took a step toward the window. “I think you should go now,” she said. “There will be time to talk tomorrow.”

Amell didn’t argue, feeling he’d been given plenty to think about and plenty to do already. Getting the sense that it might make her uncomfortable, he didn’t help thread Honeysuckle’s hair through the hook, instead waiting politely until she nodded him toward it.

“I’m glad to have met you, Honeysuckle,” he said, as he climbed up onto the windowsill.

She bit her lip, looking suddenly troubled. “You will help us, won’t you?” she asked. “You’re not lying, or making false promises? I mean, you are going to come back tomorrow?”

“I swear it,” he said solemnly. “I’ll help you get free of Cyfrin, or I’ll die trying.”

She looked a little alarmed. “That sounds very dramatic.”

“Well,” Amell said, grinning, “I’m hoping it won’t come to that.” As gently as he could, he took hold of her hair, testing his weight before planting his feet on the outside wall and swinging carefully free of the window. “Until tomorrow, Honeysuckle.”

“Until tomorrow, Amell,” she agreed, disappearing from his sight as she braced herself.

He descended as quickly as he could while still being careful, releasing her hair as soon as his feet were on the ground. Craning his neck, he looked back up at the window, and was rewarded by the sight of a beautiful face appearing in the opening. With a wave, he turned toward the trees where he’d entered, his thoughts flying suddenly to poor long-suffering Furn. Who knew what he thought had become of his charge this time?

When Amell reached the tree line, he looked back. Honeysuckle was leaning on the windowsill, one delicate hand cupping her chin, and some loose tendrils of dark hair floating out around her. She made such a striking picture, Amell caught his breath involuntarily. But the whimsical moment was soon driven out by his determination. Honeysuckle’s setting might look picturesque, but her situation was actually a nightmare. And he wasn’t going to rest until he’d freed her from it.

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