Page 49 of Gilded Locks

Grace narrowed her eyes. “You’re an idiot.”

The Rogue offered a nervous laugh. ”Somehow, this was easier when we were exchanging letters and joking about them.”

“You want a letter. Fine,” Grace said. “To the Misguided Masked One…”

The Rogue chuckled.

“If you truly wish to help Fidara, then use common sense and quit parading as a dead legend. Use your own intelligence and heed mine.”

“Is that right?”

Grace smacked his arm. “You’re interrupting your letter.”

He held his hands up in apology.

“You must not know the potency of the mayor’s and sheriff’s wrath, or you’d not doom all of us to face it,” she recited. “Do you not remember what awaits such blatant rebellion? Or perhaps you think a public hanging would be just the thing to raise the town’s morale.”

Grace couldn’t tell how he reacted to the snarkiness in her voice. But she wanted him to think about the seriousness of what he was doing.

“With exasperation, the Sane Sage,” she concluded.

“Sane Sage? You have a high opinion of yourself, don’t you?”

“It’s a relative title.”

He laughed. “What does that mean?”

“Well, in comparison to your idiotic behavior, I’m the epitome of sanity and intelligence.” Grace poked a finger into his chest as she referenced him and immediately felt new heat rush through her, but she was too exasperated to pull back. The warmth radiating from him called to mind the moment hiding in the bushes, the closeness, the scent of nutmeg.

Despite herself, despite her frustration and anger, she missed that moment.

He took her hand, gently pulling it from his chest, and her breath hitched. “You’re so sure I’m the one with a skewed perspective, huh?” He brushed at her hair, making her heart flutter. “I see you clearly.” He locked eyes with her. “But you haven’t truly seen me a day in your life.”

“Not for lack of trying.”

“Maybe.” His voice turned quiet and sad. “Grace, I can’t spend a year convincing you. The mayor is aiming to push you out of Fidara. Or worse. You can’t let that happen. For your family, but also… our people need us. Can’t you see that? Please, be an ally, not an enemy.”

Grace pulled her hands free. That moment of hiding beneath the cloak had ruined her. She was getting muddled with just his touch. “An ally? Would an ally insist on hiding his identity? You want me to trust you and yet offer no trust of your own?”

His hands immediately went to his mask and face cloth, holding each in place.

Grace scoffed. “See?”

“Please,” the Rogue said. “Please. I hide my identity for a good reason. If you… if anyone knows who I am, this won’t work. Anonymity is vital.”

“I don’t see why.”

“I… I’m different in this disguise. It’s easier. It’s safer. And you’re different with me, too. If you knew who I was, we’d be asdistant as we are without masks. At least this way, you see me for what I want to be, if not who I am.”

Grace frowned. What a ridiculous explanation. She wasn’t close with James sans-mask because he wouldn’t let her close enough to know him. If he really needed the mask to let down his guard, he’d accomplished that already. She’d seen the thread of boldness he hid, seen how he cared, seen that he was too stubborn to see sense.

Now that she knew, that wouldn’t change.

“Look,” Grace said to James. “I know who you are, okay? I’ve known for days.”

“You don’t. I guarantee it.”

Grace reached for his hood. “You shook your hood off in your confusion. I saw your curls, so there’s no need to hide your identity anymore.”

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