Page 5 of Kingdom of Locks

Racquel’s eyes passed to her husband’s, barely able to comprehend the words through the numbness that had descended over her. For the briefest instant, she thought she saw genuine pain in Justus’s eyes, but the expression was gone so quickly, she placed no reliance on it.

“How?” he asked, in a voice more awful than anything she’d ever heard.

“How?” she whispered, something hysterical rising up within her. “HOW? You wouldn’t let me care for my own daughter, that’s how! I should have been with her! I should have been the one to—”

She buried her face in her hands, sobbing brokenly as the terrible truth crashed upon her. Wave after wave of grief engulfed her, and she made no attempt to keep her head above the surface. She’d lost not only her precious daughter, but her oldest, closest friend, whose own children would now be motherless.

Abandoning any attempt at dignity, she sank to the floor, not even trying to hold on to the will to continue as she felt it slip away from her, away to wherever Aurelia had gone.

Seventeen years later…

Chapter One

“Alittle higher…a little higher…that’s it! Perfect. Well done, Aurelia. Excellently done.”

Aurelia looked down at the older woman beaming up at her, a wry expression twisting her own features.

“I’m placing a curtain rail, Mama Gail. Not performing life-saving surgery.”

“A job well done is a job well done,” said her mother firmly. “And don’t make me regret letting you read that physician’s guide.”

Aurelia chuckled as she looped her dark braid—three times as thick as her arm—around a large metal hook suspended from the stone wall. Holding the tension with the ease of long experience, she lowered herself back to the stone floor.

“It was fascinating. And you never know when it might come in handy. If you slash your leg open by accident, I could stitch it up for you!”

Mama Gail shuddered. “I’m sure I’d be grateful for whatever help you could give me in that situation, but there’s no need to sound so gleeful about it.”

Aurelia’s grin fell away as she stood beside her mother, looking up at the curtain rail. “I don’t know why we need a curtain, really. We only get one window onto the world. Covering it up is the last thing I want to do.”

Mama Gail put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed. “I know, sweetheart. But it would get cold at night without the insulation. Plus Master Mulehead would make a fuss if he saw we’d knocked down the curtain, and who has the energy to put up with that?”

Aurelia laughed, even as a small shiver went over her. She’d always admired Mama Gail’s daring—personally she was too much in awe of their captor to call him names, even behind his back. The mention of him sobered her, and she glanced out of the window. Sunset was approaching. Trying to emulate Mama Gail’s unbreakable spirit, she didn’t give voice to her dread.

“Ihave the energy,” she informed her companion instead. “Energy is the one thing I have an endless amount of. Well, one of two things,” she amended. “That and time.”

“Nonsense,” said Mama Gail briskly. “No one has an endless amount of time. Everyone has the same number of hours in a day, and we’re no exception.”

“And this particular day is drawing to a close,” Aurelia told her pointedly.

Mama Gail sighed. “You’re right. Well, the sooner he comes, the sooner he’ll leave. Come on.”

Following her lead, Aurelia set about tidying the two rooms that formed the only home she’d ever known. Most of the tower’s single story was taken up with a large open space, with a second room containing two beds for the building’s two inhabitants. It wasn’t messy—Mama Gail had always insisted on tidiness and routine. But they still undertook this process every day, hiding their treasures, and any signs of activities their captor might disapprove of. The aim was for nothing in particular to catch his eye during his nightly visits, so that he’d be less likely to linger.

Or, as Mama Gail liked to so succinctly put it, “The sooner we can bid good riddance to bad rubbish, the better.” Aurelia smiled to herself at the thought of her mother’s fierce expression as she stashed the pages she’d copied out of the physician’s guide under the lid of a bench seat.

Straightening up, she watched a little enviously as her mother twisted her copper hair—only just beginning to show streaks of silver—into a simple knot on top of her head. It looked so easy and comfortable. Aurelia ran a hand down her own thickly braided mass of hair.

“Is your head hurting again?” Mama Gail asked, noticing the gesture immediately. “Should I re-braid it?”

Aurelia shook her head. “No, it’s fine. Just, you know…annoyingly long.”

Her mother nodded sympathetically, then glanced out the window. “Do you think I have time to return this to the study?” she asked, lifting a heavy volume on botany. Not a fascinating subject, as it turned out.

Frowning as she followed the other woman’s gaze, Aurelia shook her head. The sun was nearing the horizon. “Too risky, I think.”

“You’re right,” Mama Gail agreed. “I’ll hide it under the chamber pot. He’ll never go near there.”

Aurelia choked on a laugh, but it died on her lips as a hatefully familiar voice rang out from outside the window.

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