Page 90 of Kingdom of Locks

Gasping and choking, she grabbed blindly at his arm, trying to dislodge him. He ignored her movements completely, dragging her toward the kitchen area. Before Aurelia’s horrified sight, he seized a knife from the counter and brought it up toward her. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for death, but she felt no sting. Instead she heard a strange sound by her ear. Forcing her eyes open, she realized what Cyfrin was really doing. She struggled harder, not wanting him to access even half his stored power, but he had her in a stranglehold, and stars were beginning to burst before her eyes.

All at once, he released her, and she fell heavily to the wooden floor. She saw a thick coil of hair in front of her, and followed it with her eyes. Reaching the end of the line, she looked up in a daze at the unnerving sight of her own long tresses, detached from her head, and held in the enchanter’s hands.

Aurelia reached up and felt her head, her trembling fingers finding nothing but short, uneven spikes protruding from her scalp.

“What a fetching style you’re sporting, my dear,” Cyfrin said nastily. “You never believed me that the world is a cold hard place. Let’s see who’s right—let’s see how our lovely community receives you.”

Aurelia blinked at him, confused. Before she could ask what he meant, Cyfrin had placed one hand on the hair in his fist. Muttering angrily, and with increasing speed and volume, he brought his hands—hair and all—up in front of his face. Suddenly, with a furious shout, he flung his arms wide, and the walls exploded.

At least, that’s what it felt like to Aurelia. She felt herself thrown violently outward, and the sensation of something bursting open was so potent that she was sure the tower had been blown to pieces.

But the next thing she knew, she was lying on her back in the clearing, staring up at a very unfamiliar view of a very familiar building. The tower was intact, and somehow so was she. But something had definitely been destroyed, and with terrible force.

Cyfrin’s head appeared at the window. “If you’re still in my sight in one minute,” he snarled, “I’ll kill you and be done with it.”

Aurelia didn’t need telling twice. She’d dreamed her whole life of being free from the tower, and she had no intention of staying anywhere near it now she finally was. She clambered to her feet, instantly falling in her weakness. But a moment later she was back up, stumbling toward the tree line.

She blundered through the trees, marveling at the feel of the bark on her hands, not even caring as it shredded her sensitive skin. The plants were soft under her slippers, the birdsong was so close she could almost touch it, and the wind whipped about her from all sides. She was so overwhelmed by all the sensations that she could barely grasp what had happened. Cyfrin had cut off her hair, removing the last of his magic from her person. She could feel it, too. It wasn’t as intense as the draining feeling she’d experienced when she kissed Amell, but its cumulative effect was alarming.

Physically, she felt more weakened than ever. But emotionally…she felt lighter than she ever had in her life. And she moved so easily, without any encumbrance, her balance a little off, but her movements delightfully unhindered. She was free of the tower, free of Cyfrin, free of his magic. Even free of that ridiculoushair.

But with that realization came another. If she didn’t carry the hair, and the magic stored within it, that meant Cyfrin did. And he’d said it was time to make his move. Whatever attack he’d been planning, it was now imminent. And no one knew that except Aurelia.

“I have to warn them,” she muttered, looking frantically around her.

She had no idea where she was, and no idea how to find her way. She stumbled through the trees for what felt like an age, knowing only that she needed to move away from the clearing with the tower. When she finally burst out into open ground, the sight of so much space took her breath away.

She looked up at the sun. By now it must be three hours or more past its zenith. Thanks to Amell’s information, she knew that Fernford was south east of her tower. But she didn’t know enough about such things to find direction from the sun in the sky.

She set her face toward the grassy expanse before her. She would just have to keep going until she found another human being. Surely anyone she found would be happy to point her toward the capital.

Chapter Nineteen

The horse Amell had grabbed at random from the royal stables picked its way through the woods surrounding the prison. The animal was clearly grateful for the slower pace, and the prince felt a flash of guilt. He hadn’t given the creature nearly enough breaks on the ride. But it had been worth it. In spite of the stretch where he avoided the main road, he’d made good time. The clearing wasn’t far away, and it couldn’t be later than three in the afternoon. Still plenty of time before sunset.

It wasn’t until he spotted the familiar clump of trees that Amell suddenly realized his own foolishness. He didn’t have his cloak. He’d given it to Furn, and now he had no way to find the clearing.

He struck a hand against his knee in frustration. He shouldn’t have left the main road and risked missing Furn. What if the guard was halfway back to the capital by now? Or what if he was still in the clearing? Amell had no way to find out.

But to his amazement, as he pulled his horse to a stop next to the well-known trees, he saw that they didn’t seem to be growing as closely together. They weren’t an impenetrable wall at all—he could see straight through. Frowning, he glanced around him. Had he come to the wrong place? But no, this stretch of forest had become incredibly familiar over the last month. He knew where he was.

Dismounting, he led his horse toward the close-growing trees. The stand was noticeably denser than the trees around it, but not impassable by any means. The pair moved through it slowly but easily, and the trees soon thinned out again.

Unease prickled through Amell as he saw the point up ahead where the trunks ended and the clearing began. He’d gotten in without his cloak. What did that mean? Was it a good sign, or a bad one? Perhaps because he’d found the clearing before, it was always open to him…or perhaps it was his royal blood.

But neither of those things explained the change in the trees. It was more like the concealment magic had lifted. Surely that must be a good sign. He should be free to speak of Aurelia’s plight now, if nothing else. But how had they achieved such a victory? And did that mean the restraining magic was lifted as well?

He entered the clearing cautiously, but there was no sign of anything or anyone but the lone tower, its conical roof pointing toward the afternoon sky.

“Aurelia?” he called anxiously. “Abigail?” Doubtfully, “Furn?”

No face appeared at the window, but suddenly a familiar cascade of dark hair came shooting out of the opening, bypassing the metal ring completely and hanging free all the way to the ground.

“Aurelia!” he cried, relieved by this sign of life. “Brace yourself, I’m coming up.” Hoping that Abigail would help take most of his weight, he ran to the foot of the tower and seized the tresses. Hand over hand, he climbed the wall, reaching the opening out of breath and eager.

For a moment he balanced on the windowsill, expecting to be greeted by two familiar faces, but then his eyes traveled the length of the dark hair and he gasped, dropping it as if he’d been holding a snake.

It was no longer attached to Aurelia’s graceful form. In fact, there was no sign of either woman. Instead, Aurelia’s hair was held loosely in the hands of a tall, broad-shouldered man with hair as dark as the tresses he was clutching.

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