Page 83 of Kingdom of Locks

And yet, she realized, as she looked into the eyes of the only mother she’d ever known, the things that really mattered were exactly as she’d thought—they hadn’t changed at all.

“Mama Imelda,” she said softly, taking her mother’s hand and squeezing it. “It’s good to be known.”

Chapter Seventeen

Amell’s poor horse was lathered in sweat as he pushed it harder than was reasonable down the familiar road. Furn was beside him, saying nothing, but clearly able to read his charge’s panic. Even if the magic hadn’t been preventing him from speaking, Amell didn’t think he would have had the words to tell Furn what he was feeling.

Aurelia. Aurelia Aurelia Aurelia.

He felt like he’d just found her, just discovered her true self. And now she was in danger of being ripped away from him. She’d seemed so weak when he left. Was she still breathing? Would he be too late? No one knew what the effect would be of her releasing the magic Cyfrin had stored within her. But it had done something to her, that much was clear.

No, he had done something to her. He had done this. If he’d just stuck to his resolution to keep some distance between them, she would be safe now. Or as safe as she could be with Cyfrin’s plans. But instead he’d lost his head, and kissed her.

And what a kiss it had been. Heat rushed over him at the memory, and he could feel again the intoxicating sensation of holding her in his arms. She’d looked at him with such trust, such admiration. She’d told him so calmly and confidently of his own worth, only for him to prove himself a selfish fool a moment later.

Pain lanced across his mind as he remembered the look in her eyes when she’d pulled away from him, telling him not to touch her hair. He didn’t understand exactly what had happened, but he knew he’d been at fault. He’d tried so hard to moderate the intensity of emotion and desire that had rushed in on him when she’d so unexpectedly kissed him—he’d tried so hard to make every movement gentle, knowing how sheltered she’d been, how new every sensation would feel. But still, he’d managed to cross a line, to make her feel unsafe in some way. The thought was utterly unbearable, and it was made even worse by how quickly she’d forgiven him, how earnestly she’d assured him that he’d done nothing wrong.

A memory flashed into his mind, of his old fantasy, where he swooped in to rescue a damsel in distress, and she looked up at him with eternal love and gratitude. Well, Aurelia certainly had long, flowing hair and sparkling eyes. And the trustful way she looked at him was everything his childish self had imagined.

But even before he’d so stupidly kissed her, even as she’d gazed up at him back in the tower, he’d felt to his very core how shallow his own desire for heroics was. Aurelia truly was in danger, and truly was looking to him for a rescue she was magically prevented from pursuing herself. And he took no pleasure from either her plight, which was nothing short of a nightmare, or her trust, which only highlighted how incapable he was.

He couldn’t fail her, he told himself over and over. Not this time. He had to get her out. He completed the ride to Fernford in record time, but it felt the longest it ever had. No thought of the castle or his family entered his head as he sent his exhausted horse clattering over the cobblestones toward the Enchanters’ Guild.

Still offering Furn no explanation, he threw himself from the saddle and through the doors of the lobby.

“Bartholomew?” he gasped, almost startling the clerk right out of his chair.

“He’s at the castle, Your Highness,” the clerk said nervously. “Consulting with the king.”

Without a word, Amell raced back through the door, mounting his horse and turning its head toward the castle. It was unlucky that Bartholomew was with his father. He wouldn’t be able to avoid seeing his family.

Fortune was with him, however. He was just running up the castle steps when the enchanter emerged from the entrance.

“Bartholomew!” he called, seizing the old man by the shoulders. “The project. Did you do it? Can I have it?”

“Whoa, slow down, Your Highness,” Bartholomew protested in alarm. “What’s happened?” His eyes widened as they passed over Amell’s form. “What have you done to that cloak? The magic around you has increased by about a hundredfold.”

Amell groaned at this reminder of the power he’d unknowingly taken from Aurelia. “I can’t…” he puffed, “never mind what…” He drew a deep breath, pulling himself together. “Bartholomew, I need that artifact. Urgently.”

The enchanter looked dismayed. “But it’s not ready, Prince Amell. I told you—it’s only an early test. I’ve put very little magic into it, and I’m still perfecting the theory. I’m not even sure if it will work at all, and even if it does, it only has enough magic to sustain a single use, for testing purposes.”

Amell groaned. A single use? Did that mean that at best, only one of the women could use it to get out of the tower? “That’s better than nothing,” he said desperately. “It will have to do. Where is it?”

“Back at the guild,” said Bartholomew, his forehead creased with concern. “Prince Amell, what’s going on?”

Amell shook his head, feeling slightly sick. He knew he’d never be able to tell Bartholomew what was happening. There was no point trying.

“I’ll come to your study now,” he said. He turned to his guard. “Furn, can you get us fresh horses? We’re going straight back.”

Furn looked utterly perplexed, but he asked no questions, bless him. He was just stepping lightly back down the castle steps, his face turned toward the royal stables, when a clear voice issued from the castle’s entrance.

“Amell. I’ve just been informed of your arrival. Excellent timing.”

Barely holding back a groan, Amell turned to the king. “I can’t stay, Father,” he protested. “I need to return to the prison immediately.”

“Nonsense,” said King Bern, frowning. “I’ve just received an urgent missive, important enough to require the attention of every member of my family.”

“Can’t it wait, Father?” Amell asked desperately.

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