Page 111 of Gilded Locks

“I admit, I was temporarily fooled. Her family aided her, one of them posing as the second Rogue, in order to give her an alibi when it was her turn to prove her innocence.”

He held up her verdure cloak. “This was found in her possession.”

Groups of discord broke out in the crowd.

“They all will hang.” The mayor waved a hand, and Garrick and Grace were urged forward with the knives. Grace slid the paper off the edge of the platform with a first stumbling step.

Grace looked at Lizzy as she walked. What was her friend waiting for? If her plan didn’t happen in the next few seconds, Grace was going to have to try something herself. Could she launch herself off the hinged square her guard was leading her to before he looped the noose around her neck. She could aim for Garrick and knock him out of danger’s reach as well. Would her parents react?

One step before the hinged square, Grace tensed, ready to pounce.

A shout came from the crowd. “Tyrant!” No, not from the crowd. From above it.

Grace looked up to the roof of the Durr manor. Cyrus Stanton stood atop it, bow in hand, arrow nocked. The arrow flew, landing directly in front of the mayor. Grace looked to Lizzy. Was this it?

She held up one finger.

Another shout came. “Liar!” From the roof of the Bakema manor, Alaina Dahl shot. Her arrow landed to the left of the mayor.

Two fingers.

“Thief!” A third arrow, loosed by the Tuckers’ father, hit the platform to the mayor’s right.

Three fingers.

“Duck!” Grace shouted.

Grace ducked her head and leapt off the platform, hoping that if the patrolman behind her swiped at her, she’d be out of his reach.

A chorus of shouts rang out. By the time Grace rolled to her feet, the crowd had erupted into chaos.

The three archers launched continued volleys of arrows at the hangman’s platform.

Willa and her parents huddled at the front edge of the stage, ushering Grace’s parents and Russell off of it. Her family’s guards were rolling on the floor, in pain from what looked to have been well-placed kicks.

The Tuckers had surged forward, grabbing any patrolmen that tried to make it to the stage, though a good number of the mayor’s men didn’t seem anxious to be near the archers’ target. The mayor leapt off the platform, fleeing the arrows, then spun in a circle, fury on his face.

Grace had barely had time to take in the scene when she caught the flash of a silver blade coming for her. She spun ninety degrees, out of the blade’s path, and James shouted in frustration. He swiped at Grace again, face contorted and red.

With a long-awaited satisfaction, Grace stepped aside, gripped his wrist, and twisted, hard. She didn’t pay attention to his cry. When the knife clattered to the ground, she kicked it under the platform and completed the same move he’d used on her, yanking his arm behind his back and shoving it up.

He flailed, alternating shouts of anger and shrieks of pain, grabbing behind himself with his free hand, trying to grab hold of Grace, but she simply secured that arm too.

Just when she felt the thrill of triumph, another guttural shout revived her panic.

She hadn’t noticed the sheriff when she’d dropped to the floor, but she saw him now, charging her, his guards lost into the chaos.

“You did this!” he cried and lunged at Grace.

Instinctively, Grace yanked James between her and the sheriff. Both men cried out in anger as they collided.

Garrick rushed to Grace’s side, and, as his father regained stable footing, Garrick’s fist plowed into his face. Even amidst the cacophony, Grace heard the thud of knuckles against cartilage and bone. Sheriff Clairmont stumbled to the side, carried by the momentum.

Curses erupted as he gingerly touched his blood-stained nose.

James attempted escape once more, but Grace tightened her grip. He started flailing again.

The Clairmont men charged one another.

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