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Story: Gilded Locks

Despite herself, Grace cheered for her brother—until she caught Lizzy’s eye from across the gathered group of spectators. Her look of betrayal at Grace’s merry-making turned the joy into a knot in her throat. Here she was having fun after berating Lizzy for wanting to enjoy herself.

James, Garrick, Lizzy. Was there no one she could befriend without complications?

Willa. But then, that relationship had its own complexities too.

Grace wrapped her arms about herself, suddenly cold even as the afternoon sun streamed through wispy clouds onto the square.

Garrick bumped his arm against hers. “No pouting, now.” It was exactly what she had told him.

Grace swallowed, yearning to lean into him more than ever, to pretend for a moment that she wasn’t alone in this mess of confusion.

No, she told herself. She couldn’t let her guard down.

Who was she kidding? Her walls were a pile of rubble.

The mayor called for the next challenge and the people turned to the archery range. As they approached, Grace both craved and dreaded the end of this terrible day.

“Who will go first?” The mayor was practically giddy, his excitement so emphatic that spittle flew from his mouth.

Russell bounded to the center immediately. He nocked the arrow, took his time to line up the shot, and released. It struck, not in the center of the target, but close.

Quickly, Russell nocked another arrow and aimed for a second target, this one farther. This arrow flew straight and struck on the outer rim of the center circle.

“Yes!” Russell shouted.

Grace let a small smile play on her lips. Her brother had done pretty well at all four of the challenges. Perhaps he had skill fit for a protector after all. True, he was still a bit naive and chatty, but maybe the sincere curiosity she’d seen in his face when they’d talked in the fields was indication he could learn tact, eventually.

“He did very well, didn’t he?” she said.

“Yes.” The disappointment in Garrick’s voice caused Grace to look up at him. The man was frowning.

She narrowed her gaze. “Not what you were hoping?” Her defenses were reforming, but then she saw where he was looking.

The mayor. The man was chuckling, malicious joy glinting in his eyes as he sneered down at Russell.

The hair on the back of Grace’s neck stood on end, the eerie chill of impending doom dripping from the top of her head down her spine.

She’d gotten it wrong.

Rot and rust, she’d gotten it wrong.

What had she missed?

Mayor Nautin’s satisfaction at her brother’s success didn’t align with a plan to catch the Rogue. It couldn’t. Because that would mean the mayor thought Russell was the masked rebel. But he couldn’t be. The mayor had seen, with his own eyes, the Rogue standing atop a shed while Russell stood in the crowd below.

So if this wasn’t a ploy to reveal the Rogue, and a Robbins’s success brought delight to a madman, what was the plan?

Her frantic mind couldn’t produce an answer. The only thing she could think was that Russell couldn’t win.

“No, no, no… he’s in danger.” She was too panicked. Her thoughts were escaping through her lips.

Garrick placed a hand on her arm. Automatically, she wrapped her own arms around his, clinging tight. The closeness sent a wave of comfort through her, and she forced her hitched breathing and her mind to slow.

She had to compete. She had to outdo Russell.

But that wouldn’t work. She hadn’t participated in any other event. Neither had her parents. There was nothing she could do.

“I can’t save him,” she said. She didn’t even know what she was saving him from. It was hopeless.