Page 39 of Gilded Locks

Grace ground her teeth. She had only ever seen Willa at the soirées or traipsing around town. She couldn’t imagine the morose noblewoman doing anything so beneath her as work.

“I don’t know if you’ll want to help. Harvest is a… dirty job.”

Willa shook her head. “That’s it. Spill, Robbins. What problem do you have with me? Because as far as I can tell, I’ve never given you a reason to despise my very being. I know my attitude isn’t prim and proper like your hollow smile there, but at least I’m real.”

Grace opened her mouth to retort that her smile was very real. Hatred wasn’t always unhappy. Sometimes it felt wonderful in the moment to despise someone who deserved it.

But she swallowed the thought. Because, painful as it was to admit, Willa was right. Grace couldn’t be fully real. Not because she was shallow, but because she held the fate of her town and the malignant mystic gold it concealed on her shoulders—and soon enough, that weight would be on her shoulders alone.

Hating Willa hadn’t made it any easier.

She swallowed, her throat prickling as she tried to muscle her pride into submission. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I don’t have time for you.” Willa turned on her heel and circled to another part of the group.

Grace was about to march in the opposite direction in a huff when her eyes landed on approaching figures, and her anger turned into cold dread.

Mayor Nautin and Sheriff Clairmont.

The mayor and the sheriff are planning something. I don’t know what exactly, but your family’s name is in the whispers.

No! It couldn’t be happening now. Even after days of watching for this exact moment, she couldn’t convince herself it was real.

What was going to happen?

Grace glanced at the people around her. No one else had noticed the approaching visitors.

She had to warn people. She didn’t want anyone caught in the trouble coming for her family.

“Mayor Nautin. Sheriff Clairmont. They are here,” she said to the nearest farmer. “Warn others.” As the whispers spread, Grace pushed into the crowd, desperate to find her parents.

It took only moments for the entire gathering to go quiet, all eyes directed to the two approaching men.

Before she could find him, Grace’s father had moved into the open.

“No.” But Grace’s plea was too strangled to hear. What could she do? She pushed forward, finding her mother on the edge of the crowd. Her arm was slung around Russell’s shoulders, holding him protectively to her, even though he was almost too tall for that. Grace grabbed her mother’s arm, pressing close, hovering her free hand at her waist, ready to reach for the dagger.

When the two invaders reached the group, Grace’s father greeted them. “Mayor Nautin, to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Her father’s voice held the perfect combination of respect and disapproval. Not worthy of reprimand, but no one was fooled into thinking this was truly a pleasure.

The mayor’s face contorted. “I don’t have to explain myself, Robbins. I can attend any town meeting I please.”

“Of course.” Father smiled with nonchalant, if narrowed, eyes. Still, the way he stood, he seemed more like a guard, keeping the unwanted men away from the people rather than welcoming them in.

“Move aside, Robbins,” Sheriff Clairmont growled.

Father smiled. “Oh, you wish to go this way?” He stepped to the side. “I couldn’t tell what you wanted, as you aren’t required to say.”

Sheriff Clairmont pushed forward, intentionally bumping into Grace’s father as he went. Mayor Nautin followed behind, smiling viciously. Grace’s hand slipped over the hilt of her dagger, but the men simply passed.

The mayor shuffled a bit unnaturally, his right arm held tight against his body, unmoving. The awkwardness didn’t diminish the tense air about him.

As the officials continued to the center of the group, people parted.

Grace, her mother, and Russell huddled closer, and her father joined them, wrapping his arms protectively about them.

“Hold, fledgling,” he whispered. “No need for violence.”

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