Page 48 of Kingdom of Locks

“Thank you, Aurelia,” said Mama Gail quietly. “I can’t tell you how I appreciate that.” She studied Aurelia with her usual clear gaze. “Can you acknowledge now that I might have my reasons for wanting to protect your mind as well as your body? Can you admit how easily Cyfrin manipulated you?”

Aurelia’s frustration rose back up, but she forced herself to speak calmly. “I don’t think he did manipulate me, Mama Gail. I was the one manipulating the situation, because I wanted answers.”

Mama Gail didn’t look in the least convinced, and Aurelia couldn’t help the scowl that crossed her face.

“I still stand by what I said before,” she informed her mother. “You should be telling me everything you know, so we can figure it out together.”

Mama Gail sighed, clearly hesitant, but Aurelia didn’t wait for a reply. She couldn’t let her resentment over their disagreement once again stop her from doing what she should have done hours before. Even if admitting her deception gave Mama Gail yet another reason not to trust her judgment.

“There’s something else I need to tell you,” she said. “It was petty of me to keep it from you, but I was irked that you weren’t being open with me.”

“What is it?” Mama Gail asked, alarmed.

“It’s big.” Aurelia swallowed. “Really big. Maybe you should sit down.”

Chapter Eleven

With the tower now out of sight behind him, Amell pushed his way through the trees, heading for where they seemed the most clumped. When there was only one small gap visible, he turned sideways, and was unsurprised to emerge back into the normal forest.

“Your Highness!” Furn’s familiar voice was equal parts relieved and exasperated. “Where have you been? Do you realize how long you’ve been gone? I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

Amell blinked, some detached part of his mind noting that it was nice to have the normal, hard-to-ruffle Furn back, instead of the strangely uptight version of himself the guard had been the day before.

But in all honesty, he hardly knew how to answer his friend. He had only a very hazy idea of how long he’d been gone. When he thought about it, it must have been no more than an hour, but it felt like he was emerging from a dream.

“Furn, you honestly won’t believe what I found,” he said fervently.

The guard instantly stilled. “You mean you actually found something?” he asked sharply. “There really are fugitives hiding out here?”

“What?” Amell latched on to the words with difficulty. He’d forgotten about the fugitives. “No, not that. Something much more extraordinary. I found—”

His tongue stopped.

“Found what?” Furn pressed, looking bewildered.

“I found—” Amell tried again. But again, the words just wouldn’t come. “I can’t believe this,” he said, aghast. “I can’t tell you.”

“What do you mean?” Furn looked utterly lost now, and Amell didn’t blame him.

He opened his mouth, trying again to tell Furn about Honeysuckle, the tower, Cyfrin, any of it. But his mouth simply wouldn’t form the words. He ran a hand over his face, horrified at this complication in his plans to help Honeysuckle.

“I’ve heard of this kind of thing,” he realized suddenly. “Prince Bentleigh mentioned it, at the council Basil called. And so did the Mistran prince. Protective enchantments that prevent you from saying what you’ve seen or heard.” He thumped the heel of his hand against a nearby tree trunk. “Why didn’t any of them mention how infuriating it is?”

“What do you mean an enchantment?” Furn asked, sounding alarmed now. “Are you telling me you were cursed while you were…wherever you were?”

Amell shook his head. “No, I haven’t been cursed. I’ve suffered no harm, Furn, don’t worry. You won’t be executed at dawn.”

“A great relief,” said Furn, his lips twitching.

Amell let out a groan. “But I didn’t plan for this. If I can’t tell anyone what I saw…” How was he going to bring back help, like he’d promised? He bit his lip. “Perhaps Bartholomew can help me.”

“From the Enchanters’ Guild?” Furn asked, trying valiantly to keep up.

Amell nodded. “But he’s back in Fernford, and I—” He was going to say that he’d promised to return the next day, but the magic wouldn’t let him. He supposed it would imply that there was a someone to whom he’d made the promise. He let out another groan. “Let’s return to the prison,” he said.

“Gladly.”

Furn handed over the reins of Amell’s horse, which he was still holding, and within moments the two of them were riding back toward the prison clearing. Amell’s thoughts whirled, trying to adjust his plans based on this new development. He should have known it wouldn’t be so easy. Cyfrin clearly had all kinds of nasty tricks up his sleeve. Amell still had no idea how he’d gotten past the restraining enchantment, but it seemed there were some aspects of the concealment magic that his cloak didn’t protect against.

---