The Forbidden Lock

by Liesl Shurtliff

  “Don’t call my niece a pig,” Ruby said. She reached in her bag and pulled out two lollipops. The two children squealed and reached chubby hands toward the candy.

  “Who’s your favorite auntie?”

  “Woo-bee! Woo-bee!” they chanted.

  “And don’t you ever forget it.” She handed them the lollipops.

  “Oh, brother,” Corey said. “That’s all they need. More sugar. Are you trying to torture me?”

  “Well, you know what they say. What goes around comes around,” Ruby said as she pulled both children onto her lap.

  “Hey, share,” Matt said. “I’m their favorite uncle.” He took Henry on his lap, ruffed up his curls, and kissed him on the head.

  Henry responded by popping his lollipop out of his mouth and shoving it in Matt’s face. “Yum!” he said.

  “Yeah, thanks. Yum.”

  Gloria wiggled herself off Ruby’s lap and toddled over to the playground. Henry followed.

  “How’s Lana?” Ruby asked.

  “Tired,” said Corey. “We’re always tired.”

  “Gives you a little empathy for what our parents went through, doesn’t it?”

  “There’s no way I was this much trouble.”

  Ruby snorted.

  “Henry, don’t eat the dirt! Yuck!”

  “Yum!” Henry said, sticking his lollipop in the dirt and then in his mouth.

  Corey went and yanked the lollipop from Henry who immediately started screaming. Ruby ran over and washed it off with her water bottle, then gave it back to Henry. He smiled through crocodile tears.

  “Kids these days,” Corey said. “No common sense.”

  Matt never would have thought that Corey would be the first to get married and have kids, but five years ago he’d been at Comic Con, speaking and signing copies of his latest book, when a young woman dressed up like Wonder Woman smiled at him as she walked by, and he was a goner. They were married a year later, and then the twins came. It had been somewhat comical to watch Corey get smacked with parenthood, but Matt also envied him. He had his own family now. Still, he knew nothing would ever come between them. They may be leading their busy separate lives, but they had promised they would always stick together, no matter what. Every Friday afternoon they met in Central Park. It was Matt’s favorite day of the week. Sometimes, once a year or so, they’d all get sucked back to the Lost City with all the rest of their selves, past and future. They never knew exactly when it was going to happen, but it always happened when they were together and alone. (Never when the twins were around. Their past selves seemed to have rules about that.) Matt always looked forward to it. It was like a bizarre family reunion.

  “Either of you talk to Mom and Dad, lately?” Corey asked as he pushed Gloria on the swing.

  “Yesterday,” said Ruby. “They’re having a grand time in Paris.” Their mom had been asked to come work at the Louvre for a year to oversee some restorations and preservation of several pieces of art, including the Mona Lisa. Mr. Hudson said he’d tag along for the ride, but he’d kept himself busy with his own projects. He was writing a book. It was a great secret. He wouldn’t talk about it, but Matt had a feeling it had something to do with maps and time travel and perhaps two people in different centuries who, against all odds, found each other and stayed together.

  “Those two crazy lovebirds,” said Corey. “They still act like they’re our age.”

  “They’re lucky,” said Matt a bit wistfully.

  “And aren’t we lucky we got them for parents?” Ruby said.

  Matt nodded. He counted himself lucky every day, and yet still there were times he felt like something was missing.

  “The building is looking good, Ruby.” Corey nodded toward the twisting building in the distance. It was, in fact, Ruby’s design. She was one of the world’s youngest, most promising architects, wowing the world with her unique and daring designs. She was on the cover of magazines and everything.

  “Everything on schedule?” Matt asked.

  “I think so,” Ruby said. “I have an emergency meeting with one of the contractors. We’re having a problem with one of our steel suppliers in China, and it’s holding everything up.”

  Matt felt a little flash of pain in his chest. Even all these years later, any mention of China still made him suddenly look around, like he might see Jia just show up. He’d heard nothing from her. She’d never come to visit. He wondered why. He worried something might have happened to her, that maybe Yinreng had done something. Several times he’d resolved to just travel there himself and find her, but he always chickened out. Somehow it felt like it would be an intrusion, like he needed an invitation. He’d searched history books and records for any mention of her name, but there was nothing, except for the records of her name as one of the daughters of the Kangxi emperor.

  “I’m sure you’ll get them back on track,” Corey said. “You always do.”

  “Thanks,” Ruby said. “How’s the new book coming?”

  “Slow. Turns out having kids really does something to your work time. My publisher is being very patient though.”

  “That’s because they know genius when they see it,” Ruby said. Corey was a successful comic book artist. He’d already illustrated several comic books and graphic novels, and every day it seemed like more opportunities came knocking.

  “Speaking of genius, how’s your research coming, Matty?” Corey asked.

  Matt blew out his lips like a horse. “Slow, but I don’t have kids as an excuse.” Matt was a physicist and a biochemical engineer, of course. He was currently studying the physical and mental effects of time travel on rats. He’d already published a few articles that were garnering quite a bit of praise and attention (and some strong criticism) in the scientific community. Time travel was in its infancy for most of the world. Some people still did not think it would ever be possible for humans to achieve, and those who did debated much over the possibilities, the ethics, how time travel should be regulated, and to whom it would be made available. It was important for everyone to know the costs as well as the benefits. Matt had seen both. He knew it was a big responsibility he could not take too seriously. No one actually knew he was the one publishing his material, because he published under a pen name—Marius Quine.

  “We’ll throw you a big party when you win the Nobel Prize,” Corey said.

  “Thanks. I request many balloons. With helium. Enough to make me float.”

  “You got it.”

  They played with the twins. Matt pushed Gloria on the swings while Ruby took Henry down the twisty slide.

  Ruby looked at her watch. “I gotta go. Don’t want to be late for that meeting.”

  “See you later, then,” Corey said.

  “Oh, Matt, I found something I thought might interest you,” Ruby said.

  She pulled out a National Geographic magazine and handed it to Matt. On the cover was a painting of a Chinese woman dressed in yellow robes, sitting on an elaborate throne. “Did a Woman Once Rule China in the Early Eighteenth Century?” the title read.

  Matt’s heart skipped a few beats. He flipped to the article.

  On December 20, 1722, Kangxi, emperor of China for sixty-one years, was on his deathbed. Records claim he gathered seven of his sons to his bedside, presumably to pass on his throne to one of them. There had been many disputes over the years as to who would inherit the throne. Historians had long believed he named Yongzheng his heir, and though we know Yongzheng did in fact rule China for a period, recent documents discovered have given historians reason to believe that the emperor passed his throne not to one of his sons but to a daughter.

  Matt paused for a few moments. His hands began to tremble a little. He read on.

  “It’s an almost unthinkable break from tradition for a woman to officially rule China,” says Ann Huang, a professor of Imperial Chinese History at Columbia University and the leading researcher of the discovered documents. “Surely no one would have supported the decision, but
neither would they have dared to go against it. The emperor was like a god. You couldn’t go against the heavens.”

  The throne was initially meant to go to Yinreng, his second son. But Yinreng was an extremely volatile and power-hungry young man, and the emperor soon realized he was not fit to rule. Kangxi removed him as crown prince and declared that he would place the name of his successor inside a box kept in the Palace of Heavenly Purity to be opened only after his death. Several of his sons began to vie for the throne, each plotting against the next.

  Historians always believed that his first son, Yongzheng, was then made his successor. There had been some rumors and conspiracy theories of him passing the throne to a daughter, but they were always rejected as they had no sound foundation. These recently discovered documents, however, could confirm the rumors as truth. It appears Emperor Kangxi passed his throne to one of his daughters, Quejing, a princess of the second rank.

  Matt paused on the name for several seconds. Quejing. Jia. An empress.

  It is unclear why Emperor Kangxi chose Quejing to inherit over any of his other sons or even other daughters of higher rank. She was not the daughter of an empress but a concubine of low rank. However, from the few records that have been discovered, she seems to have been an extremely powerful, intelligent, and just ruler, beloved by her people. During the time of her rule, she brought peace and prosperity to a nation that had long been in turmoil, and especially brought more rights for women, outlawing the brutal practice of foot binding as well as the practice of rulers keeping many wives and concubines. There was also evidence of her possessing some savvy with mechanics and technology. Among the documents found were some designs for a rather sophisticated plumbing system. “Her designs were well beyond the technology of the time,” Professor Huang said. “It was almost as if she had visions of the future.”

  Empress Quejing ruled closely with her brother Yongzheng. He often took charge in Quejing’s stead when she traveled, which she did often and extensively, another key part of her success as a ruler. The empress never married and bore no heirs, though there is some evidence of correspondence between her and some man who has remained unknown. Empress Quejing held many secrets, and not even those closest to her seemed to be privy to them.

  Yongzheng succeeded Quejing as emperor when her rule ended around 1740. An exact date of her death is unknown. There is no burial site or tomb for her. There are conspiracy theories she was murdered by one of her brothers or their supporters for the throne. There is no evidence to support either theory. It remains a mystery that historians may never uncover.

  “What is clear,” says Professor Huang, “is that Empress Quejing was highly influential and still is, even if people don’t really know who she is. It is a common theme in women’s studies. We don’t know the women who are changing and shaping the world. Their efforts are either undocumented or attributed to men. In this case, it was almost as if Empress Quejing wanted to remain anonymous, for whatever reason.”

  Matt closed the article and studied the picture again. He noted the gold chain hanging around her neck, and the large, shiny black stone sitting at her chest, accented with bits of gold. In her hands she holds a piece of paper. A map, Matt realized. They never did find out who made their father’s map. Maybe it had been Jia. Or perhaps it had still yet to be created. There was still time for that. There was still time for a lot of things.

  “Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” Ruby said.

  Matt just nodded, still unable to take his eyes off the picture.

  “Anyway, you keep that. I have to get to my meeting.”

  “I should go too,” Corey said. “Lana wants us to have family dinner, though I’m not sure why. They just throw food everywhere.”

  “How about I come watch the twins sometime this week so you and Lana can go on a date?” Ruby asked.

  “How about so we can just have a nap?”

  “Whatever you want. Either way, please change your shirt.”

  Corey looked down at his stained Superman T-shirt. “Yeah, this one could use a wash, I guess.”

  “All right, see you guys later.” She held out a fist. Matt and Corey both put theirs in and they gave their three-way fist bump, as natural as anything.

  After Ruby and Corey had gone, Matt walked alone through Central Park, the baseball diamonds, along the roads where horse-driven carriages pulled tourists cuddling beneath blankets. He came to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and watched people go in and out, step into self-driving taxis and flying cars. He watched children splashing in the fountains, laughing and shrieking, tossing coins in the water for luck and wishes. He reached in his pocket, found a coin, and tossed it in.

  Matt heard some sniffling behind him. He turned to see a kid, maybe nine or ten, sitting next to his bike, crying. It was one of the latest models with hovering capabilities and glow-in-the-dark wheels.

  “Hey there,” Matt said. “Can I help you with that?”

  “I can’t get it to start,” he said. “I just got it, and my mom’ll ground me forever if I break it!”

  “Let’s take a look. I’m pretty good at fixing things.” Matt knelt down and took off the cover to the operating system. “Looks like one of the circuits shorted. Hmmm . . . this would be easier with tools.”

  Out of nowhere a wrench dropped down onto the sidewalk. “What the . . . ?” Matt picked up the wrench and looked around.

  “Maybe you should try putting some peanut butter on that bike,” said a voice.

  Matt whirled around, dropping the bike and nearly knocking over the kid. He could hardly believe his eyes. It was Jia. She looked exactly the same, except older. She was wearing her old tool vest, and the Obsidian Compass around her neck.

  “Peanut butter?” said the kid. “On a bike?”

  “Yes,” she said, still looking at Matt. “And bubble gum. It’s a magical combination, you know.” She knelt down and picked up the bike. “Oh, I can give this a good tune-up.” She brought out her wrench, tightened the brakes and the seat, then brought out a small jar of peanut butter–bubble gum mixture and greased up the chain and the gears. “There you go. Good as new!” She lifted the bike and spun the front wheel.

  The boy clicked the button and the bike sputtered to life. It rose off the ground a little. “It works!” he said. “Thank you!” He hopped on his bike and sped away, jumping over trees and swerving around pedestrians.

  Jia turned around to face Matt. He still could not speak. He was afraid if he did, he would wake up and find this was all a dream. Jia, after all these years, was there standing before him.

  “Nĭ hăo, Mateo,” she said.

  “Nĭ hăo, Jia.”

  Jia smiled a smile that was pure light and joy. Matt felt that hole in his heart close up.

  All was right with the world, in the past, present, and future.

  Acknowledgments

  The end already? It came too fast, and at the same time it’s been a long journey. I do feel that I’ve traveled through time and space with a crew of amazing people who supported me and helped me tell this story with all its quirky characters and adventures. I know it’s my name on the cover, but there are so many people who contributed to the Time Castaways trilogy. To Melissa Miller, thank you for believing in me, for sharing your brilliant ideas and allowing me to take them and run. It’s been a joy and an honor. Thank you to my editor, Mabel Hsu, for jumping in with enthusiasm and for your incredible patience. Thank you to Amy Ryan for the amazing design work, to Robby Imfeld and Lena Reilly for getting these books into the hands of readers. Thank you to Lindsay Wagner, Kimberly Stella, Tanu Srivastava, and all the team members at Katherine Tegen Books and HarperCollins for your efforts on this book and series overall.

  Thank you to my agent, Claire Anderson-Wheeler, for having my back through this whole process, reading and commenting at the drop of a hat when I needed it, coaching me through the rough spots and talking me off the ledge. You’ve been a true champion of my work, and I’m so grateful
.

  Thank you to all the wonderful teachers and librarians who have championed my books. I know I wouldn’t be where I am today without you. And to the readers, thank you for sticking with the Hudsons’ adventures to the end. Or the beginning? It’s hard to tell . . .

  So many friends have helped me through this series. Shout-outs to Katie Nydegger and Lisa Allen on this one. You saw me at my worst and haven’t discarded me, so I know it’s true friendship.

  To my children, Whitney, Ty, Topher, and Freddy, thank you for being my biggest fans and the most wonderful children a mother could hope for. You inspire me every day and have brought so much joy and love into my life. Scott, where would I be without you? Lost. Sad. Totally bonkers. (I know I’m a little bit bonkers.) Thank you for keeping me laughing through my tears, for holding my hand and putting up with the many late nights and weekend work. Let’s all stick together forever.

  About the Author

  Photo by Erin Lake

  LIESL SHURTLIFF is the New York Times bestselling author of Rump: The (Fairly) True Tale of Rumpelstiltskin, other books in the (Fairly) True Tales series, and the Time Castaways trilogy. She was born and raised in Salt Lake City, Utah, the fifth of eight kids. She now lives with her husband and four kids in Chicago, where she writes full-time.

  www.lieslshurtliff.com

  Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.

  Books by Liesl Shurtliff

  The Time Castaways Trilogy

  The Mona Lisa Key

  The Obsidian Compass

  The Forbidden Lock

  Copyright

  Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

  TIME CASTAWAYS #3: THE FORBIDDEN LOCK. Copyright © 2020 by HarperCollins Publishers. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.