Page 4 of Kingdom of Locks

“Of all the theatrical, self-aggrandizing weasels!” exclaimed Imelda.

Racquel turned a colorless face to her friend. “Who was that? What did he mean he’d claim the baby? What was all that about a vessel?”

Imelda hurried to her side, gripping her arm reassuringly. “Don’t give him another moment’s thought, Racquel,” she said, her voice soothing. “He was a big-headed lunatic, and he’ll never be allowed to get anywhere near you or your baby.”

“But he’s an enchanter,” said Racquel, still fighting a creeping sense of panic. “Who knows what he’s capable of?”

Imelda snorted. “Not a very powerful one. If he had strong magic, he wouldn’t resort to such paltry tricks as creating a cloud of smoke to make it look like he’d disappeared.” She looked down. “It’s all right, Felicity.”

Racquel chewed her lip anxiously, staring without seeing as her friend knelt down and reassured her daughter, who was clinging to her leg in alarm, having run to her mother as soon as the guard released her.

In spite of Imelda’s reassuring words, Racquel couldn’t help the fear that had lodged beside her heart. She passed a hand back and forth over her stomach in a convulsive rhythm, gripped by a fleeting and illogical wish that the baby could stay in there forever, where she was safe. If the baby was a she, of course.

“Don’t tell Justus about this,” she said suddenly. Her own fear was enough. She didn’t want to deal with his anger as well.

* * *

As weeks turned into months, Racquel all but forgot about the unsettling encounter with the enchanter. The guards had found no sign of him when searching the estate. It had supposedly belonged to a family of Alburian nobles which petered out when the only descendant, a woman, married a Fernedellian and left the kingdom. Whether the enchanter was descended from the family, or just a bold traveler who’d taken up residence in the abandoned estate, Racquel doubted she’d ever know.

As she’d sensed, the baby was indeed a girl. Princess Aurelia was everything the queen had hoped she’d be. Born with her mother’s golden hair and her father’s clear blue eyes, she’d enchanted everyone in the castle from the moment she was born.

Everyone except the father who’d wanted another son, of course. But Racquel did her best to keep the baby out of Justus’s sight as much as possible. She knew he had little patience for crying infants. Justin, on the other hand, was very interested in Aurelia, and Racquel was encouraged by the softness the six-year-old showed toward his baby sister.

As an infant, Aurelia was too young to have an official lady-in-waiting yet, but true to her word, Imelda’s visits to the castle became more frequent, and when Racquel was unable to be with little Aurelia—which was often—Imelda shared the role of caring for her with her various nursemaids.

Because unfortunately, while Aurelia might so far have an easier life than her royal brother, the arrival of the princess did nothing to make the queen’s role less demanding. King Justus still expected his wife to fulfill all the state duties of a queen, and in his view, caring for an infant who could be handed off to any number of servants didn’t fall under that description.

Outings such as the rambling walk Racquel had shared with Imelda and her daughter during her visit to the Summer Castle remained rare. More times than she could count, Racquel watched with tears firmly held at bay while her friend took her baby daughter out in her place, the queen deprived of both her daughter’s company and the fresh air she so desperately needed.

“Racquel.”

On one such occasion, her husband’s impatient voice called Racquel’s attention back to the council room where the two of them awaited the king’s advisors.

Racquel drew her eyes from the window with reluctance. Imelda was climbing the steps into a carriage, baby Aurelia in her arms and several guards mounting up beside the vehicle. The visit to the river had been Racquel’s idea. And now she wasn’t even to take part.

“Why do I have to be here, Justus?” she burst out, in uncharacteristic defiance. “It’s not as though I’m allowed to actually speak up in these meetings. Why must I attend the council?”

“You are the queen,” scowled Justus. “And you will not neglect your responsibilities for an infant.”

“Ourinfant, Justus,” said Racquel, a little desperately. “She’s our daughter!”

“And she is perfectly safe in the care of her nursemaids and her guards,” said the king dismissively. “Your place is here, not in a nursery.”

A nobleman entered the room at that moment, and Racquel fell silent. But inside she burned with frustration and helplessness. It was all she could do to maintain the emotionless facade expected of her at these events. Sometimes she thought Justus’s coldness would kill her. But no. She brushed such selfish thoughts aside. However disheartened she might become, she would never be so weak as to succumb to death. There might not be much she could do for poor little Justin, but Aurelia needed her, and Racquel would never abandon her daughter.

The meeting lasted for hours, and Racquel heard barely a word of it. She was watching the carriageway, waiting for Imelda and Aurelia’s return. The advisors were finally winding to a close when Racquel saw a single rider speed across the flagstones, his horse lathered in sweat. A shot of fear went through her, as if her heart already grasped something her mind couldn’t possibly know yet.

Within minutes, there was a smart rap at the door. A guard entered, wild-eyed and shaking, and knelt beside his king. Racquel couldn’t hear the quiet words he spoke, but her fear turned to terror as Justus barked for the advisors to clear the room.

Racquel didn’t move, frozen in place like the statue she’d been trained to resemble.

“Repeat that,” Justus said curtly.

The guard swallowed visibly before speaking. “The…the princess, Your Majesty. She was being carried by her minder, and…and…they both…”

“What?” Racquel cried, suddenly on her feet. “They both what?”

The man bowed his head. “They both fell into the ravine, Your Majesties. We have men searching the river. Their bodies haven’t yet been recovered, but…but it’s a fifty foot drop.”

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