Page 15 of Gilded Locks

Grace faced the saleswoman, selected the first pattern she saw, and paid for it.

With a quick thank you, Grace hurried away, grabbed Russell’s hand, and dragged him down the aisle of tents.

“Hey!” Russell cried.

“Shhh.” Grace stepped in front of a cart full of bulky pieces of a disassembled vendor tent, then waited until the next alleyway and pulled her brother quickly into the shadows. “Keep quiet,” she insisted.

Russell began to complain, so she stuck her hand into his bag of candy and handed him another piece.

He rolled his eyes but took the candy.

It was a few minutes before Garrick passed. His eyes searched the street around him, but he didn’t stop or turn by their alley. His hands, previously loaded with purchases, were empty.

He’d used a runner. But that begged the question: why hadn’t he used a runner before?

Grace glared. Hewasfollowing her. Candy might be explained away; Russell held a bag in his hand, after all. But the dress. That wasn’t the kind of thing you carted around dusty, busy streets when someone could place it safely in a tidy wagon in a clean shed.

But Grace had only just come from the dress tent, and since she hadn’t bought anything, Garrick may not have had time to wait for a runner and keep Grace in sight.

Grace gritted her teeth. This was a problem. She couldn’t let a Clairmont mess with the Protectors again.

Chapter 4

As the wagon slowed to a stop, Russell bounded out of the front seat and over to the hatch. “Russell!” Grace whispered, but her brother was already gone.

She sighed and watched.

Russell pulled the hatch back, and Father sat up, dusting the dirt from his hair. Not that anyone could tell. Even with the beginnings of grey salting his hair, the soil blended perfectly with his thick mess of mostly brown hair. There was a happy interchange too quiet for Grace to hear, then Russell helped Father from the hole, covered and hid the hatch, and the two made their way to the wagon.

“… and we hid in the alley.” Russell concluded the story he was telling as they climbed into the wagon.

While he urged Russell to keep quiet, Grace’s father looked her way. The expression was one she knew. Disapproval.

Heaviness settled on Grace.

Russell had mentioned Garrick, Grace was certain. Father would have questions, but they’d wait until they were home and Russell had been sent to bed.

She sighed. Would Father never trust her?

When her father was safely hidden amidst the supplies and Russell had taken his seat again, they headed home. The sun had slipped below the hill and treetops not long ago, and the sky was the kind of blue that’s poised to turn black. Grace lit a lantern and hung it from the wagon.

Turnip and Buttercup plodded obediently ahead. They were familiar with traveling this road by lantern light. Grace didn’t even have to steer.

Russell was uncharacteristically quiet, likely due to a day’s worth of candy. He snored quietly, his head against Grace’s shoulder.

Alone with her thoughts in the quickly darkening dusk world, Grace watched the forest and dreamed of days past.

Once again, she put herself in her mother’s shoes.

She climbed with a rope secured to her back, intent on setting a trap for the sheriff’s patrolmen to keep them from wandering near the borders of the forest fortress. Jonathan, in his mother’s place, was beside her. Partners in rebellion, defending the gold from the enemy they had inadvertently lured toward the secrets through their escapades as the Rogue.

Grace sighed.

A half dozen birds cawed in displeasure and took to the indigo sky. Grace sat up straighter, listening.

There was a rustle and another chorus of distressed birds.

She gazed at the woods, tensed. There weren’t many large predators in Sherwood Forest, just deer and sometimes a few chickens that had escaped their coop.

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