Everlasting Enchantment (20 page)

She raised her face to his. She had lovely hazel eyes, but they could not compare to ones of golden-brown.

“You will still need me,” she replied. “Besides, if you think I shall not see this through to the end, you are sadly mistaken.”

Ah, he could see why Millicent had chosen her for a friend. Beneath her air of cultured sensibilities, the lady possessed a will of steely resolve.

Gareth turned and raised his voice. “You’ve got what you want. Now take me to her.”

The clerk went back to perusing his papers again.

The were-lion clutched the bracelet tightly and nodded. “Follow me.”

They strode down the hall, the half-dozen shape-shifters following, some of them shifting to their animal forms as they went: the tiger, an enormous raven, a shaggy-haired wolf.

“You will release her,” said Gareth.

The lion-man shrugged. “She is of no use to us now, but it is not my decision to make. You will have to consult the Master.”

They turned a corner, went down another hall. The building had not looked this large from the outside. The golden-haired man kept glancing at Gareth, curiosity lining his scarred features. Gareth waited. Thanks to Millicent, he had experience with the curiosity of cats.

“You did not answer me,” he finally blurted. “If you didn’t know I had your girl, why did you bring the relic here?”

“To foil a plot to overthrow the Crown.”

The man stopped dead in his tracks, turned to face Gareth while the other shape-shifters made a circle around them. Lady Yardley shivered. They stood on a balcony overlooking an indoor garden of sorts, the trees and plants cultivated within it almost unrecognizable as any species native to England.

Gareth knew damn well the building was not this large on the outside. Dread magic, indeed.

“Your fears that the relic might prove a danger to the Crown were not groundless,” said Lady Yardley. “Although Sir Gareth is not to blame—”

Gareth laid a hand on her shoulder. “Not now. We gave them the bracelet—we tell them nothing more until they give us Millicent.”

Lady Yardley snapped her mouth shut and nodded, giving the shifter a mutinous glare.

The baronet did not argue. He spun and led them down a set of spiral stairs, the stone treads worn smooth from centuries of use. The light grew dimmer the lower they went, as windows no longer illuminated each landing. Fairylights lit the way instead, the enchanted dust within the globes reflecting sparks of glitter in the shaggy manes of their escort.

As they reached the final landing, Gareth could hear moaning that set his teeth on edge. They entered another hall of doors, these locked from the outside, with but a small opening lined with bars to see inside. The moan rose to a scream, and he bolted down the hall toward the sound, leaving the shape-shifters open-mouthed behind him.

Gareth recognized that scream.

He stopped at a door fairly vibrating with the sound.

“Millicent!”

The screams rose in volume.

Gareth looked through the bars of the small window. A cage with another set of silver bars sat within the stone chamber, and within that cage prowled a black panther, eyes glittering with near madness.

The shape-shifters had already caught up to him, leaving Lady Yardley far down the corridor. They were all as fast as Millicent.

Gareth called to her again, but Millicent was lost in some sort of hysteria, screaming and screaming. She threw herself at the bars of the cage, rocking the prison against the stone walls.

“You caged her,” roared Gareth. “Like an
animal
. You—
you
of all people,” and he swept a scathing glance at the shape-shifters.

The were-lion flushed. “It was the safest way we could transport her. We know our kind’s strength—and no wards could hold a shifter. She was still unconscious when I left her!”

“Open the damn door.”

His shame appeared to prompt him to obey the command, and he withdrew a set of odd-looking keys from his waistcoat, turning one in the lock. “I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” he warned. “Take a look at her eyes, man. The beast has fully claimed her. You’d best wait until some trace of her human side—”

Gareth flung open the door. He couldn’t be sure if Millicent’s human side would ever come back, not after this. Not without his help. And if he was wrong—if she did not love him enough—he did not want to continue his existence anyway. He stepped into the room.

The beast stopping screaming, but continued to growl a warning as she backed to the far end of the cage, watching him with wary eyes.

The door of the cage had a bolt on the outside. Gareth shoved it open. “Millicent. It is all right. I’m going to let you out of here, see?”

The panther’s tail swished, and those golden eyes narrowed.

“It was wrong of them to put you in a cage.” Gareth opened the steel-barred door. “I shall never let anyone do this to you again—”

The panther leaped forward, those heavy paws slamming against Gareth’s chest, pushing him backward and down.

A scream and a shouted oath from behind him, and the outside door of the prison slammed shut.

The panther looked down at Gareth, teeth displayed in a snarl. He could feel the heat of her breath, the sharp points of her claws as they dug into his shoulders. Millicent weighed much more when in were-form and Gareth struggled to breathe.

“I… love… you.”

Those golden eyes blinked.

“You betrayed… me.”

Whiskers twitched.

“But only so I… could be free. I… forgive you.”

And suddenly the weight lessened, and Millicent’s beautiful human features loomed above him. “Forgive me?” she snapped. “There is nothing for you to forgive. I loved you enough to give you up—you should be
thanking
me.”

Gareth smiled. “You are back.”

“Well, of course…” Millicent rolled off him and sat up, raked her wild hair away from her face. “No. Wait… how could this happen? My beast should have torn you apart. I felt its rage… I did not think I would overcome it this time.”

“Love can overcome all odds.”

Her eyes widened. “You.
You
brought me back.”

Gareth sat up, a bit shakily, but that had been a close one. “You do love me, Millicent. Enough to bring you back to me. I had truly thought that when you gave the bracelet to Lady Yardley—”

“And yet you opened the door to the cage anyway? Are you mad? My beast could have…” She shuddered.

“But it did not.”

“No.”

They stared at each other for a timeless moment.

“You broke my heart,” Gareth murmured.

“I am sorry you felt that way. Where… where is the relic?”

Gareth rose, extended his hand to her. “I gave it to the Master’s spies.”

Millicent stared up at Gareth in horror. “You did what?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “It was necessary.”

“But why? Surely they believed Lady Yardley about the Duke of Ghoulston’s schemes. The relic was only supposed to grant her an audience.”

“We haven’t told them about him yet.”

“Then why—”

The prison door burst open, and the were-lion who had taken Millicent appeared in the doorway. She spun and growled at him. He had been the one to take her… the one to put her in a cage. And now she realized why Gareth had handed over the relic. So he could free her.

“Don’t shift,” murmured Gareth, placing a warm hand on her shoulder.

Amazingly, he prevented her from doing so. Her beast now succumbed to Gareth’s will. The realization should have shaken her. It did not.

“Madam,” said the were-lion, “please accept my sincere apologies. I should have suspected your reaction to being… caged.” He winced, then his rather handsome face hardened. “But you have given us a merry chase over the last few weeks. I did not want you slipping from my fingers yet again.”

Millicent growled.

The shifter sighed, then shrugged his broad shoulders, transferring his gaze to Gareth. “Sir. I believe you mentioned something about a plot to overthrow the Crown? I would be most interested to hear of it.
Now.”

Claire suddenly appeared in the doorway, her lovely face near purple with exertion, her hand to her chest as she gasped for breath. “Millicent? Good… good heavens! Are you well? If they have mistreated you… in any way… they shall hear from my father! He wields incredible influence with the House…”

“From which the Hall holds a certain amount of immunity,” interjected the were-lion.

Claire narrowed her eyes and glared up at the man. “What is your name, sir? I wish to make sure I mention it when I recount this… debacle, to the queen. Or were you not aware that I am a Lady of the Bedchamber?”

If Millicent had not hated the shifter so very much, she might have felt sorry for him at the moment. The spies might hold a certain autonomy in dealing with magical troubles, but
everyone
answered to the queen. And someone who held her special confidence was not to be taken lightly.

The man collected himself and bowed. “Sir Harcourt, at your service, Lady Yardley—if I recall your name correctly? And may I say, this is a dangerous business for a
lady
such as yourself to get mixed up in.”

“Such as myself? I do not like your tone of voice, sir.” She turned away from him in dismissal and held out her hand to Millicent. “Come out of there, this instant. I cannot bear to see you in such a place.”

Her concern soothed the trace of fury remaining within Millicent, and she stepped forward, clasping her friend’s hand. The were-lion narrowed his eyes, glanced from Claire to Gareth, and wisely kept his mouth shut.

Millicent felt Gareth protecting her back as they made their way out of the dungeons beneath the Hall of Mages.

“We are taking you to the Master,” said the were-lion, who had taken the lead in front of them as if he still had control of the situation.

Claire threw him a glare as he glanced at her over his shoulder.

Millicent could actually feel the hostility crackle between the two of them.

“Yes, yes you are,” agreed Gareth. “I believe he is attending a ball with the Duke of Ghoulston and the queen.”

“How did you know?”

“A good guess. I fear the Master will have to leave the ball early, Sir Harcourt.”

He turned his head again, avoiding Claire’s gaze. “What do you mean?”

“The Duke of Ghoulston has used the relic to seduce the queen.”

A series of snarls and growls from the shifters behind them followed his words, and Millicent could only admire Claire’s stoic bravery as she ignored them. They had reached a balcony overlooking a garden, and while Sir Gareth outlined the duke’s evil scheme and how he had managed it, she studied the plants below them.

Millicent could not remember anything between the time she had left Lady Yardley’s mansion until she woke up in that cage. She had never been in the Hall of Mages, had never thought to, and wondered at the contrast of the interior of the place. Some sort of spell had apparently expanded the inside of the building to a maze of passageways and rooms all seemingly for the experimentation of magic. But unlike the Underground, dark sorcery didn’t appear to be practiced here. The garden contained mazes of bushes growing fruits and flowers she had never seen the likes of before. At least, she assumed the globes of emerald with purple liquid inside were a sort of fruit, for a swarm of tiny jeweled bees swarmed the ones that had fallen to the ground. Miniature birds with wings like scarves perched on the globes, pecking at the skin, then pushing their sharp beaks inside to reach the liquid. Tall stems lined with satiny petals reached to the ceiling of the room, the flowers swaying to some nonexistent breeze. Trees with leaves sporting tiny gems twinkled, the stones falling to the ground when they reached the size of her thumb.

Millicent narrowed her eyes and concentrated, using her immunity to magic to see past the illusion. But the garden did not waver. The wizards must have used the natural fauna of England and altered it with magic to create entirely new species, which were now as real as Millicent herself.

But the fountains that sprayed crystal water high into the air were conjured from illusion, as well as the statues shaped like mythical creatures, who gazed benevolently around the garden, an occasional smile flitting across the face of a fairy, a gnome, an elf.

No twisted branches or deformed stalks or creatures formed from nightmares.

But Millicent remembered her glowing forest, and thought her Underground could hold just as much wonder.

The were-lion interrupted her musing, and she focused back on the conversation.

“So, you are saying Ghoulston has not used magic, specifically, on this enchantment over the queen?”

“Correct,” replied Gareth. “So Her Majesty cannot detect it. Nor the Master himself.”

“If you hadn’t given me the relic,” said the shifter, “I might not have believed you.”

Millicent narrowed her eyes. She had no intention of allowing the were-lion to keep the bracelet. She could not understand why it had not chosen her friend, for Millicent had thought Claire would surely be the one to break the spell. But she did not imagine that the Master would allow it to leave his sight once he had it, and then Gareth would never have a chance of becoming free of the cursed thing.

No. Millicent could not allow Sir Harcourt to keep it for long.

“You must take us to the queen at once,” said Claire. “She will still be under the influence of the potion, but she will listen to me.”

“Not without his knightness, over there,” replied Harcourt, cocking his shaggy head at Gareth. “For we must convince the Master of this first… not that I doubt your influence with the queen, Lady Yardley. But if Queen Victoria is still as much in love with Ghoulston as she appeared the last time I saw her, we will not be able to convince her until the potion wears off.”

A door ahead of them opened; a purple-robed acolyte stepped into the hall. He took one look at the pack of shape-shifters and ducked back inside the room, slamming the door on a cloud of lavender magic.

“We will not interrupt the queen’s ball,” continued Harcourt. “I will send for the Master, and he will speak with you first, and then decide how to approach the situation.”

Claire made a disgruntled noise, but they all continued on in silence through the maze of passageways, up circular staircases, until they reached an elaborately carved door and Sir Harcourt threw it open.

“You will wait in here,” he began, when a crash from inside the room interrupted him.

Sir Harcourt shifted from human to lion to human again so quickly that Millicent barely blinked between the transitions.

“Lord Sussex—Master! You are back… what are you doing?”

Harcourt stepped into the room and Claire and Millicent followed. Gareth stayed near Millicent’s elbow, a strong, quiet… disturbing presence. She had thought she would never see him again, nor had she fully realized how his feelings of betrayal would affect her. Her insides twisted when she thought of the look on his face when he’d told her she had broken his heart. She did not want to think of how he must be feeling. Fortunately, events conspired so she didn’t have time to delve too deeply into them at the moment.

The Duke of Sussex, Prince Augustus Frederick, Master of the Hall of Mages and the queen’s favorite uncle, looked to be having a fine temper tantrum. For a man of over sixty years, he had done a rousing good job of scattering a silver tea service, a dainty set of porcelain china, and papers and books across the oak-paneled study. His jowls shook with fury, and his face appeared beet red against the contrast of his neatly groomed white beard and hair.

“She is mad,” snarled the Master, his hands beginning to glow with magic. Millicent could see it, could smell it, and although it couldn’t harm a shifter, Claire and Gareth held no such defense against a magical backwash of power.

Sir Harcourt looked stunned by the scene before him. Apparently, the Master wasn’t prone to such fits of temper.

“Who is?” asked Millicent, stepping in front of Claire.

“The queen—who else?” The glow within his hands grew brighter, until it illuminated the entire room. A duke had the ability to change matter, and as a direct descendant to the royal family, his spells held more power than anyone save the queen—or a relic. Millicent truly did not want to see what he might conjure with the spell he was building up.

“What did she do?” she continued, hoping to keep him talking, and perhaps distract him from his magic.

“She is acting like a besotted young girl—and she has always shown such a level head for her age. She has always known she would be queen—she has always conducted herself accordingly. And now this!”

Gareth kept trying to position himself in front of her, and she held him back only by the grace of her were-strength. Millicent kept her voice low. “She is not herself, Lord Sussex.”

“Damn right she isn’t! A queen cannot hie off to Gretna Green and elope! The country would not stand for it.”

“These are not her decisions. She is being coerced, and we must save her.”

Her words finally seemed to penetrate the older man’s fury. The glow within his hands faded somewhat. He narrowed his eyes and peered at her. “Who are you?”

Sir Harcourt appeared to have regained his senses, and cleared his throat. “This is Lady Millicent, Lady Yardley, and Sir Gareth, my lord. He is the magic man from the relic—and brought it to us in hopes of saving the queen from Ghoulston.” The were-lion held up the bracelet like a ritual offering.

The Master’s eyes widened. “He brought it—but what is this about Victoria being coerced to marry that swine, Ghoulston?”

Harcourt glanced at Sir Gareth. “Apparently the blood within the magic man’s veins has been altered by the curse he has been under for centuries. The Duke of Ghoulston used it to drug the queen’s tea.”

With the prospect of his dear niece acting so uncharacteristically, the Duke of Sussex appeared all too eager to accept any explanation for her behavior, and needed little convincing to believe the dread plans of Lord Ghoulston. “Ha! A love spell, is it? I knew she couldn’t have fallen for that sop so quickly. But I scanned the queen myself for any sign of enchantment, and could find nothing.”

“Because it is not magical in nature,” interjected Gareth. “Although magic surely created it.”

The old man frowned. “But what of this tea? Nothing passes Victoria’s lips without being tested first.”

Claire flushed. “I gave the tea box to her myself, Lord Sussex. As Lady of the Bedchamber, I am trusted implicitly.”

“Nonsense. No one is trusted, including myself. But the young woman who tests her food… ho! She has been making moon eyes at Ghoulston herself—I should have noticed this before! But there is no such thing as a drug that can create true love—our best sorcerers have been trying to craft such a potion for centuries.”

“It took one of Merlin’s relics to do so, your lordship,” said Harcourt.

“Indeed. Indeed. But enough of this jabbering! Victoria may be halfway to Gretna Green by now, and we must stop that coach.” The old man stepped over the broken crockery and swept past them, the shifters standing just outside the door parting before him like the Red Sea.

Harcourt followed him. “Master—it’s not wise to leave behind loose magic.”

Lord Sussex glanced behind him, sparkling magic trailing from his hands. He gathered it to him, creating a small sun within his hands. When they reached the drive out front, he dispersed it over their heads, lighting up the night. “There, now. It will follow us to light the way… no broken legs for my horses. Sir Timison, sound the alarm to gather any other shifters in residence, and then fetch my coach, quickly.”

The man with the black-striped hair shifted to tiger and raced off into the mews, returning shortly in human form on top of the carriage, the horses racing toward them at amazing speed. Although Millicent had not seen them in the group of baronets, the horses must be shape-shifters themselves to cover ground at such a pace.

She blinked. The group of shifters surrounding them had more than doubled with the sound of the alarm. The speed of her own kind could still amaze her.

His lordship turned to his baronets. “I suppose you shall all move faster in your were-forms. When we catch up to the blackguard, keep to the shadows. I don’t want to spook the man. Ghoulston had his own guards with him, along with Victoria’s. If Ghoulston doesn’t stop his coach when I hail him, take out the guards, as quietly as you can. And try not to kill any of Victoria’s men; she is rather fond of them.”

He turned his sharp gaze on Millicent, Claire, Gareth, and Sir Harcourt. “I want you in the coach with me, to convince Queen Victoria if possible, to restrain her if necessary. She will not marry this man.”

“If Ghoulston sees us,” said Gareth. “He will know the game is up.”