Page 1 of Kingdom of Locks

Prologue

Racquel, Albury’s young queen, laughed at the antics of the small copper-haired child rolling in the wildflowers before her, reflecting that the little girl was like her mother Imelda in more than just looks.

“Won’t she get her gown dirty?” Racquel asked her friend. “Or injure herself?”

“I don’t think so,” smiled Imelda, watching her daughter fondly. “I can’t imagine her getting hurt badly enough to cause concern, just from rolling in the grass. And as for the gown, what does it matter?”

Racquel shook her head in disbelief. “Your children certainly enjoy more freedom than mine ever will.”

“Well, I’m not the queen, am I?” Imelda pointed out. “The lack of a title does have its benefits. I’m very content as a commoner, you know.”

Racquel sighed, not relishing the reminder of her elevated standing. It was one of the reasons she so enjoyed spending time with Imelda. Her oldest friend rarely mentioned Racquel’s status as queen, and spoke to her as though they were still equals.

She didn’t mention any of that, however, instead giving her friend a speaking look. “Don’t let the head of your clan hear you calling Albury’s most powerful merchant family mere commoners, Imelda.”

Imelda grimaced. “My family are a little full of their own importance, aren’t they? But influence or not, we’re commoners just the same. And strictly speaking, I stopped belonging to the clan when I married.” Her eyes rested warmly on her daughter, who was now chasing a butterfly. “Gustav and I are our own clan, and we don’t have any desire for titles.”

“Well, I know better than anyone that titles don’t bring happiness on their own,” said Racquel sadly. In spite of the day’s warmth, she pulled her silk shawl a little more tightly around herself. “I was happier as a lady than I am as a queen. Not that anyone would believe that.” She saw that Imelda was watching her with distress, and attempted a smile. “Your husband’s fleet gives you financial security, that’s all that matters. You certainly don’t seem to need a fancy title to be happy.”

“Racquel,” Imelda said, reaching out a tentative hand.

“Did Gustav take your son with him to the regional market?” Racquel asked quickly, eager to change the subject.

She was glad that Imelda had found happiness with her husband, but she hated the pity she saw in her friend’s eyes any time Racquel’s own marriage came up. Racquel had no doubt that Imelda knew as well as she did that love had played no role either in the formal arrangement that had brought Racquel into the royal family, or in the relationship that stemmed from that arrangement. Her sole value in her husband’s eyes lay in the fact that her father was a highly influential member of King Justus’s court.

“Yes,” said Imelda, still sounding hesitant. “A five-year-old is too young to be underfoot when Gustav is working, of course, but he’s never been good at saying no to Ambrose. He’d spoil the boy if I let him get away with it.”

Racquel smiled, but the expression was pained. Again, it was impossible not to draw comparisons. If only her own son—who wasn’t much older than Imelda’s—enjoyed such favor from his father.

“Will Prince Justin be traveling here from the capital with his father tomorrow?” Imelda asked delicately, her mind clearly taking a similar route.

Racquel nodded. “Are you sure you can’t come back to the Summer Castle?” she pressed. “Even just for a few hours? We could have refreshments, and—”

Imelda was already shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Racquel, but Gustav and Ambrose are expecting us back at the inn soon. It took us half an hour to walk here, and we’ll have to walk back yet. We can probably only stay for another fifteen minutes.”

“I understand,” said Racquel, swallowing her disappointment. She knew Imelda had no interest in castles, but she would have loved the company. “And there’s no need for you to walk. I can have a carriage brought around.”

Imelda smiled in amusement. “A half hour stroll isn’t a hardship, Racquel. We both enjoyed the walk over immensely.”

Racquel opened her mouth to reply, then gasped abruptly as she received a solid kick to her stomach. “Ooh! That was a big one.”

“Was it?” Imelda asked delightedly. She looked over at her daughter. “Fliss, the baby is kicking! Come and see.”

“You can’t exactly see anything,” laughed Racquel. “But she can feel if she likes.”

“Can she really?” Imelda asked brightly. She smiled at the three-year-old who had run over, hands full of wildflowers. “Her Majesty said you can put your hand on her tummy, and try to feel the baby.”

The little girl’s eyes were round as she did so, and she gave a delighted squeal of laughter when the baby kicked again.

“Is it a girl this time?” she asked Racquel innocently.

The young queen smiled. “I don’t know for sure, but I think it is.”

Imelda gave her a scrutinizing look. “You think, or you hope?”

Racquel smiled. “Don’t tell Justus, but both. He wants another boy—an heir and a spare, you know—but I think a girl would be just lovely.”

Her eyes became a little distant as they roved over the peaceful meadow where they were walking. Their meeting place was far enough from the royal estate that Racquel could no longer see the spires of the Summer Castle, and they were alone but for the half dozen guards loitering in a loose circle around them.

---