Page 66 of Gilded Locks

“Odd,” Father said.

“I’ve never seen gold touch an animal or human before. Not without…,” mother inhaled sharply,”…without being swallowed in the pit.” She was thinking of her brother.

“Is this better or worse?” Grace asked.

“Can’t be sure.”

Since the dusty substance didn’t seem to contaminate anything, they placed the butterfly in the bag of Nix ice, intending to bring it to the major oak in the forest fortress after dark. They’d study it later.

Walking back to the field, Grace felt the weight of deciding which problems to handle first. Gold or harvest? They couldn’t ignore either.

Willa had made sizable progress when Grace finally retrieved her scythe from the ground by her row of wheat.

Grace swung her scythe, downing several stalks. The frustration fueled her strength.

Just then, a man turned down her row and made his way toward her.

Grace grimaced. One of the mayor’s patrol.

You want to actually be useful, grab a scythe from the shed.Though she didn’t allow herself to speak her thoughts, Grace couldn’t disguise her displeasure as the patrolman passed by her.

He eyed her in equal enmity, but kept going.

The patrolman was now passing Willa.

“You’re wasting your time,” Willa said.

The patrolman paused. “What did you say?”

Willa wiped her arm along her forehead, and a bit of golden wheat stuck to her damp, tanned skin. “That man wouldn’t have broken into my manor after preventing my arrest. He isn’t the one who has issue with my family.”

The man snorted. “You’re still a foreigner. If you were truly a Fidaran, you would know the Rogue only cares about making life difficult for the sheriff and mayor. He wasn’t protecting you. He was annoying Mayor Nautin.”

Willa rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard the stories. The Rogue was executed. This is a different man, with different motives.”

“He’s doing the same things the Rogue did. Seems like the same motives to me.”

Willa snorted. “Get on with your patrol, then, if you won’t see sense. I’ve got work to do.Iwon’t wastemytime.”

Willa turned her back to him and began swinging her scythe. The man had to jump back a step to avoid the reach of the long tool. He glared at Willa’s back for a half second, then, as if feeling Grace’s gaze on him, he swiveled to make eye contact with her.

Grace held the gaze as a show of defiance. The man scowled but returned to his patrol.

She had to admit, she liked Willa’s company more with each day. The young woman was too vocal for her own good—it wouldn’t turn out well for her to keep mouthing off to the mayor and his followers—but being near her when she did those things pushed Grace to rebel a bit more.

Russell’s arguments came back to Grace. Once again, she acknowledged how action, even the small glares of defiance, felt thrilling.

Was it really so dangerous for Grace to join in? The Rogue had already stirred up trouble. Patrols wouldn’t just stop. And the Zerudorn gold was loose. Everything holding her back had already happened, yet she still sat on the sidelines waiting for the mess to play out in front of her.

What if Grace decided to join in? Could she actually save the town from the mayor?

Only, the Rogue wasn’t who Grace thought him to be. Correction: James wasn’t who she thought him to be. She simply couldn’t reconcile the two personas. They couldn’t be the same person. But she’d seen his eyes, his auburn curls, dark in the shade of night and trees. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, join in with someone who was out to hurt, not just help.

Suddenly, a shout rang out. Grace spun toward the harried voice.

A great sense of déjà vu settled on Grace when she saw what had caused the stir. Up on the roof of the storage barn stood the Rogue, bow in hand, arrow nocked and pulled back. Something white waved from the arrowhead.

The patrolman nearest Grace was now charging through the wheat, heedless of the damage he was doing. A second patrolman darted from another region of the field. Both converged on the barn.

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