Page 92 of Kingdom of Locks

His arms flailed wildly as he fell, grasping at air in an effort to slow his descent. But it seemed the power still hanging around him was primed to do just that. He felt himself slow slightly as the ground approached, and he bounced off a cushion of pure power, landing gently on the grass, his sword falling several feet away.

“You are a nuisance, Prince.”

Cyfrin’s voice drew Amell’s gaze to the tower. The enchanter was in the window, and before Amell could do more than struggle up, he’d looped Aurelia’s hair through the metal hook, gripping it on either side and sliding down.

“It seems it won’t let me kill you,” Cyfrin grumbled, looking Amell up and down. “But it will wear off with time. For now, perhaps it will allow something less drastic. A good old-fashioned curse, perhaps.”

He lunged forward with surprising swiftness. Amell, bereft of his sword, raised his arms in defense. But Cyfrin made no move to strike him, merely tapping the side of his head.

Something seemed to descend over Amell’s face, and he clutched at it, confused.

“I’d best say the words, make it official, hadn’t I?” Cyfrin’s voice was a hiss in Amell’s ears, and the prince struck out blindly, trying to connect with the enchanter. “You are doomed to blindness, Your Highness. I think you’ll find it difficult to run to your little guards if you can’t find them. And just know that I take great delight from the best part of this curse—you’ll never seeAureliaagain.”

With a cry of rage, Amell swung his arms around, searching for his enemy. There was nothing but a ghostly laugh on the wind.

“Cyfrin!” he roared into the blackness. “Cyfrin, where is she?”

“Oh, she’s out there somewhere,” the enchanter said lazily, his voice seeming to drift from far away. “I hope she’s received kindly by whoever she meets. I’m afraid she looks a bit of a fright. I cut her hair in something of a hurry, you see, and I’m afraid it wasn’t quite neat.”

Amell drew in a horrified breath as he grasped the enchanter’s meaning. The monster had shorn Aurelia’s hair like a prisoner’s, and then thrown her into a community still jumpy from the threat of escaped and potentially violent enchanters.

And the king had given the order to kill fugitives on sight!

“WHERE IS SHE?” he demanded, fear clutching at his throat.

This time there was no answer. The enchanter was gone, and Amell was alone in darkness. He clawed at his face, but there was nothing covering his eyes. He was genuinely blind. Panic clouded his mind, and he stumbled over the grassy ground, desperate for he hardly knew what.

His foot hit something hard, and he knelt, feeling his way across the grass. His sword. Carefully, he picked it up, returning it clumsily to its scabbard. What was he going to do? He was blind, without even Furn to help him. And worst of all, Aurelia was once again in danger, and he had no idea how to find her.

After a moment’s thought, he decided his best hope was to make for the prison. The route was so familiar, he might be able to feel his way there.

He made it to the tree line without serious mishap, but as soon as he was between the trunks, he knew it was hopeless. Without his sight, he had no idea where he was going. And yet, even as he moved, he felt that energy swirl around him, the same buoyancy that had gripped him when he’d kissed Aurelia. At the time he’d thought it was just elation at her touch, but now he knew it had been Cyfrin’s magic, draining from her and pouring into him.

Blinking frantically, he realized that the fog was beginning to clear. Blurry shapes were appearing in front of him, slowly solidifying into trees.

“Yes,” he muttered, willing the magic to keep going. “Fight back! Fight it off.”

Whether in obedience to him or in accordance with a predetermined path, the power lingering around him broke down the last of Cyfrin’s attack. With a gasp, Amell lurched forward, his vision restored.

A soft nicker brought his attention to his horse, grazing nearby between the trees. He hurried toward it, leaning for a moment on a nearby tree trunk as he drew in breath after breath, his mind trying to recover from the terrifying experience of sudden and absolute blindness. When he pulled his hand away, he was astonished to see a smear of red. He examined the skin, but could find no sign of an injury. Peering at the tree, he realized with an uncomfortable flop of the heart that it wasn’t his blood.

Looking around, he saw another smear on a nearby tree, and another beyond. The ground was trampled as well, as though someone had blundered through here before him. Who had it been? Not Cyfrin—Amell knew from experience how stealthily the enchanter moved through the trees.

Seizing his horse’s bridle, he followed the signs of passage. He had only a rudimentary level of training when it came to tracking, but some indication of direction had to be better than none. He had to find Aurelia before any well-meaning soldiers caught sight of her, and this was the best lead he had. If there was any chance Aurelia was at the end of it, he would follow this trail to the edge of the world.

Chapter Twenty

Aurelia hugged her shoulders miserably, wishing she had better protection against the chill of the evening air. As desperately as she’d wanted to be outside of her tower, the idea of being truly outside through the hours of darkness was a little alarming. She walked as briskly as she could over the strange terrain, the brown dirt striped with row upon row of green plants, reaching halfway up her legs.

She’d thought it would be such a simple thing to ask for directions, but so far she’d only encountered one person, and it hadn’t gone well. Unease raced over her at the memory of how the man had started when she spoke, dropping the long handled tool in his hand and running at full speed toward what seemed to be his dwelling, a short distance away.

Aurelia had debated following him, but some instinct warned her that she’d do better to keep moving. At least the sinking sun had given her a better idea of what direction she should be traveling in. It was mostly behind her now, giving her the sense of walking into gathering gloom. Fear prickled at her, and with it came a stab of grief. She’d waited her whole life for this moment. She should be celebrating, not wandering miserably, fighting off fear. At the very least, her mother should be with her.

But the thought of Mama Imelda bolstered her. The other woman might not be with Aurelia, but she was safe, and free of the tower, and that was what really mattered. They would find each other sooner or later, and then they would be able to celebrate their liberation.

In spite of the early hour, weariness tugged at Aurelia, her limbs still gripped by the weakness that had come over her when Cyfrin’s magic was extracted. But she was alive, she reminded herself fiercely. She’d survived the experience, when no one had known whether she would, and now no part of her belonged to the enchanter. That was worth any weakness.

A clomping sound drew Aurelia’s attention to a row of trees up ahead, and she picked up her pace hopefully. As she drew close, she realized with a rush of excitement that there was a road on the other side of the trees. She might never have seen one before, but she still knew what a road was, and that it meant people. And people meant help.

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