Page 47 of Gilded Locks

So she murmured about the beauty of the fortress as she tugged him a few feet further. She bumped into the ward of resistance, and in a whisper, spoke the words of yielding and entered as quickly as she could manage, counting the seconds.

Her increased pace caught the Rogue by surprise and he followed without question, but as soon as she slowed, his complaints came in loud pleas.

“No. This isn’t the right place. We can’t stay here. The square is beautiful!” He released her hand and made for where the ward of resistance should be, if enough time had passed for it to reform.

The square?That’swhere he wanted to go?

Now she heard clomping footsteps. They were running out of time!

Grace threw her arms around the Rogue, trying to hold him in place, but his magic-driven strength dragged her forward. No! The ward of resistance wouldn’t reform with them in the way.

In the struggle, he threw his head back, trying to free himself, and his hood slid off, revealing a head of thick, dark curls.

“Wait!”

Think, Grace. How can you stop him?

The ward of diversion played on desire. It granted the illusion of a place meant to give a person everything they wanted. But what the Rogue wanted, Grace couldn’t give him—stealthily reclaiming the people’s riches wasn’t an option right now.

But what else did he want? She didn’t know. After months of trying to flirt with James, what did she actually know about him?

“James, stop,” Grace said. “Beauty isn’t your goal, is it? What do you really want?”

The Rogue stilled and turned to look at her.

Grace didn’t have time to be relieved. She yanked him back, held tight for five breaths, and then waved her foot where they’d been. Her foot rebounded.

Unwilling to break contact should the magic rear up and send him running headfirst into the rebounding power of the ward, Grace slid her arms across the Rogue’s chest to his arm, ignoring the sting of tingles across her skin.

“Come on.”

Miracle of miracles, he followed without complaint, eyes locked on her face. Later, the memory of that intense gaze would distract her for endless hours, but for now, she turned away and dragged him deeper into the fortress. She stopped halfway to the heart of the secret camp. This had to be far enough, because she refused to take him close enough to see the gilded crater.

Grace ushered the Rogue behind a cluster of bushes, replaced his hood, maneuvered the cape of the verdure cloak over her head both to guard against the small chance they could still be seen, and to keep him close in case he bolted. She waited, tucked against the man’s side, quivering with adrenaline. In the compact surroundings, pressed to him, she couldn’t feel the chillof the night. The ever-present scent of the forest was joined by the spicy notes of nutmeg.

Grace swallowed as her stomach erupted in butterflies. She ignored them. Now was not the time to go mushy. They were still vulnerable.

The voices grew louder than they’d ever been. “Quiet! Can anyone hear him?”

Grace looked to the Rogue nervously. Would he betray their location with another loud plea to leave for the square? She froze. He wasn’t complaining. He was staring at her. Grace inhaled sharply, surprised by the longing she saw in his eyes. Blood rushed to her cheeks.

There was something in the crinkles around his eyes, in the inkiness of his thick lashes, that felt new and unfamiliar. In such proximity, she didn’t see the James she’d known, but someone far more attentive.

She swallowed, trying to douse the fire suddenly raging in her cheeks. Instead, the heat spread through her, warming her heart. A little giggle of pleasure bubbled in her throat.

It was no wonder the Rogue had been a part of her manufactured image of happiness. She’d enjoyed these past nights of banter and debate with James more than the few years’ worth of dances they’d shared put together.

How she’d missed this. Banter had been a way of life between Grace and Jonathan. That teasing friendship hadn’t ever become a romance, but she’d expected one day it would. They were the remaining Protectors, so it seemed a forgone conclusion that their lives would be entwined.

His departure without a single word of warning or regret had shown her they hadn’t been as close as she’d thought.

Grace wondered now why she hadn’t let go of Jonathan ages ago. It had been two years, and she had still been waiting fora man who had abandoned her to explain that it was all a misunderstanding.

But now, with her heart hammering as she gazed at the Rogue, a man she knew wasn’t Jonathan, she felt somewhat free. Rather than mourning what she’d lost, Grace felt herself begin to hope that there was someone who’d want to stand beside her and fight for Fidara.

Not as the Rogue, but maybe there was another way. Something between sitting and rebelling that they could do together.

The possibility was intoxicating. Suddenly, months of tame conversations with James felt like the prelude to something deeper. The weight of the mayor’s influence affected him as it did her. All it had taken was a couple hours of time in an environment that felt outside the mayor’s reach to bring them closer. And she was living adventurously again.

---