Locke

Quick Facts

• Role: Member of Prince Cardan Greenbriar's inner circle; a covert antagonist who engineers emotional conflict
• First appearance: At the early revels among the Folk, where he sets himself apart from overt bullies
• Key relationships: Entangles Jude Duarte and Taryn Duarte in a secret love triangle; maintains tense ties with Cardan; formerly involved with Nicasia

Who They Are

Locke is Faerie’s fox-smile made flesh: a charming aesthete who treats other people’s hearts as material for a story he’d like to watch unfold. Unlike the brutes around him, he favors delicate knives—flirtation, suggestion, and the tasteful escalation of drama—so that pain arrives dressed as romance. He is the court’s patron saint of plausible deniability: always amused, never surprised, and rarely, if ever, remorseful. In him, the book’s theme of Cruelty and Bullying shifts from public spectacle to private theater—less blood, more fallout.

Personality & Traits

Locke’s elegance masks a predator’s calculus. He understands what will move people and uses that knowledge to wind them into situations they feel compelled to see through. Even his “kindness” is curated; he prefers wounds that unfold slowly and beautifully.

• Manipulative storyteller: He courts Taryn in secret while openly seducing Jude, insisting Taryn prove her love by enduring the spectacle. The “test” is framed as narrative necessity rather than choice—his way of turning moral harm into aesthetic logic.
• A connoisseur of chaos: He encourages Jude’s defiance not to help her, but to heighten the scene with Cardan. He likes the click of dominoes and positions himself where the view will be best when they fall.
• Charming and seductive: Compliments, gentle tending after public humiliations, and a first kiss on his tower create a romance arc Jude can believe in—until the reveal shows it was set dressing.
• Detached and amoral: He treats people as characters. His credo—“If I can’t find a good enough story, I make one”—justifies using others’ pain as entertainment.
• Foxlike allure (appearance as metaphor): His beauty is weaponized, his features literally keyed to cunning.
  • “Locke brings up the rear, looking bored, his hair the precise color of fox fur. … Fox-eyed Locke, standing silently behind Valerian, his expression schooled to careful indifference, has a chin as pointed as the tips of his ears.” His later “tawny fox eyes” fix his role as the elegant trickster whose gaze appraises for plot, not personhood.

Character Journey

Locke arrives as the “gentle” outlier in Cardan’s vicious circle, the boy who rights a small wrong at the revel and winks at Jude as though they share a private understanding. That carefully curated first impression buys him credibility for later: he can tend Jude’s wounds after the tournament, suggest she “keep it up,” and sell himself as the ally within enemy lines. Scene by scene, the angle sharpens: his interest in Jude amplifies Cardan’s rage; his flattery scripts Jude as a heroine; his secrecy with Taryn ensures the reveal will detonate at maximum range. When the betrothal is exposed and the sisters duel, the elegant arc closes—Locke hasn’t grown; our perception has. The mask of sweetness is merely another face of cruelty, confirming that his “stories” are rigged games with human hearts as stakes.

Key Relationships

• Jude Duarte: Locke is captivated by Jude’s volatility—she makes scenes, and scenes make stories. He plays the rescuer and co-conspirator, urging her to needle Cardan while laying a romantic track that will hurt most when pulled away. His interest is instrumental: Jude is a plot engine he can rev until it breaks.

• Taryn Duarte: With Taryn, Locke switches registers to intimacy and initiation. He reframes public humiliation as a rite of passage, convincing her that swallowing pain proves love and belonging. Their secrecy weaponizes the bond between twins, driving the book’s exploration of Family, Loyalty, and Betrayal.

• Prince Cardan Greenbriar: Locke provokes Cardan indirectly—stealing Nicasia before the book begins, then courting conflict through Jude, whose presence “gets under [Cardan’s] skin.” He understands Cardan’s insecurities and treats them as set pieces, arranging scenes that humiliate the prince without overtly defying him.

• Nicasia: A prior conquest and ongoing provocation. Locke’s history with her is another strand in his web of “interesting” tensions; by parading new liaisons, he stokes old fires and keeps the circle’s resentments vivid enough to fuel more spectacle.

Defining Moments

Locke’s pivotal scenes showcase his taste for poised cruelty: intimacy offered with one hand, injury prepared with the other.

• The first revel “kindness”

  • What happens: He aids a boy whose wing Cardan tore and shares a conspiratorial wink with Jude.
  • Why it matters: Establishes him as “different,” a planted alibi that later makes his betrayals feel not only cruel but cleverly premeditated.

• After the tournament

  • What happens: He tends Jude’s injuries and urges her to keep provoking Cardan because it’s “funny” how she affects him.
  • Why it matters: Reveals his pleasure in escalation; he coaches conflict under the guise of support.

• The kiss on the tower

  • What happens: On his estate, he kisses Jude and praises her as a story waiting to happen.
  • Why it matters: Converts manipulation into romance language, binding Jude to a narrative she doesn’t know is rigged.

• The duel between sisters

  • What happens: His secret betrothal to Taryn explodes into violence between the twins.
  • Why it matters: The climax of his design—he doesn’t need to swing a blade to orchestrate the deepest cut.

Essential Quotes

“It’s funny how you get under his skin.” … “Like a splinter?” I say. “Of iron. No one else bothers him quite the way that you do.”

This exchange shows Locke reframing Jude’s suffering as entertainment value. The “iron” metaphor flatters her power while reminding us of Faerie’s literal vulnerability—he admires not Jude herself but the effect she produces in others.

“Because you’re like a story that hasn’t happened yet. Because I want to see what you will do. I want to be part of the unfolding of the tale.”

His seduction is also a thesis: people are plots. By praising potential rather than personhood, Locke reveals his objectification—Jude isn’t a partner; she’s a narrative vehicle he intends to ride.

“I like for things to happen, for stories to unfold. And if I can’t find a good enough story, I make one.”

The manifesto of a beautiful vandal. Here cruelty becomes craft: if reality disappoints, he will manufacture stakes, meaning consent and wellbeing are subordinate to his appetite for drama.

“Do you love me enough to give me up?” I am sure my expression is stricken. He leans closer. “Isn’t that a test of love?” … “I mean if I hurt you.” My skin prickles. I don’t like this. But at least I know what to say. “If you hurt me, I wouldn’t cry. I would hurt you back.”

Locke recasts harm as proof of devotion, a manipulation that teaches Taryn—and tempts Jude—to normalize pain as romantic currency. Jude’s answer foreshadows her evolution: she’ll learn from Locke, but not the lesson he intended.