Everlasting Enchantment (21 page)

“Hopefully, I will have my niece in my coach before the man is the wiser.” The Master clambered into the carriage, the springs squeaking. The four of them quickly followed; Claire, Millicent, and Gareth squished together on one seat, Sir Harcourt taking his seat beside Lord Sussex.

“The fastest road to Gretna Green,” shouted his lordship, and the coach lurched forward.

Millicent gazed out the window, trying to ignore the jolt of excitement that flew through her at the feel of Gareth’s warm body pressed against hers. Beyond the circle of the Master’s magical light, she could see the dark shape of lion, tiger, wolf, and jaguar keeping pace with the horses, and occasionally a flash of fur atop the roofs, a gleam of claw within a back street. They could easily pass them if they wished, since the were-horses were hampered with pulling the coach, but kept a protective circle around them. Millicent did not need to gaze upward to know that eagles and hawks and falcons flew above them.

An astonishing company. Ghoulston would be frightened out of his wits, for his magic could not defend against a one of them.

A smile crept across her face. For Nell. Ghoulston would pay for what he had done to Nell.

The coach swerved and smashed Gareth even closer against her, Claire uttering a squeal at the wild movement. Were-horses galloped at a clip that ordinary horses could not match, and Millicent could only be grateful that the Master’s coach appeared to be built to handle such extraordinary speed.

Gareth muttered an apology, which she felt more than heard, for the wheels crunched and the wind wailed and the carriage groaned.

Millicent scooted as close to the wall as she could and closed her eyes. What had it cost her to avenge Nell’s death? She had broken her promise to Gareth. A good man. A man of such honor, that she knew if their positions had been reversed, he would never have broken a promise he had made to her. And then she had the gall to tell him he should thank her for it.

Right after Gareth had saved her from the madness of her beast.

He would never forgive her. Indeed, why would she want him to? She had spoken truly, after all. If she could not free him from the relic, she did not want him to sacrifice his freedom to be with her. He might come to resent her, and she could not bear it. But it hurt to be so close to him and have to pretend she didn’t care.

But Millicent had not thought about what would happen when Claire brought the relic to the Hall of Mages. She had not thought beyond her need to avenge Nell. Of course the Master would keep the relic. He would not allow Claire to walk out of the Hall with it, to allow the ladies of Society to lead him a merry chase again. And what would the spymaster do with the bracelet? Perform magical experiments on Gareth, as Ghoulston had done? Keep the relic within a warded vault, never to be placed around another woman’s wrist again… trapping Gareth inside it forever?

No. Gareth would never forgive her. She had no right to ask it of him. She ignored the weakness in her foolish heart that kept wanting her to do just that.

Millicent glanced up beneath her lashes at Sir Harcourt. He had not given the relic to Lord Sussex, had pushed it up his forearm to keep it secure. The relic would not tighten for a man, and certainly not for Harcourt—despite his handsome scarred face and mane of golden-blond hair.

No, she could not ask for Gareth’s forgiveness. She could barely meet his gaze. But she could make it up to him by taking back the relic. She just had to wait for the right moment.

Harcourt must have felt her gaze, because he looked over at her, his amber eyes bright with interest. He glanced at the bracelet on his arm, and then back to her. So. He would not make it easy.

They flew over the road for an eternity, Gareth a volatile presence beside her. It felt so strange to be awkward with him, when it had become so easy to touch him, to be close to him. And all of it her fault. She resisted the urge time and again to rub against him, to smooth back the blond hair that escaped his leather tie.

Claire leaned forward, glanced between Gareth and Millicent, and gave her a puzzled look. Thank goodness the rattling and banging prevented any conversation. Millicent had no desire to explain her complicated relationship with the knight.

The small door that allowed the occupants to speak to the coachman suddenly flew open.

“What is it?” shouted Lord Sussex.

“We’ve got company behind us,” replied Sir Timison.

“Who?” growled Harcourt.

“Not sure yet,” he shouted back. Then raised his voice even louder. “Magic ahead!”

The carriage swerved once again, bounced several times, and then steadied. Sir Harcourt stuck his head out the window, scanning the road ahead, the darkness behind. They had left London a long time ago; only shadows of hedgerows and trees flashed past them now. The shape-shifters hid more easily in the countryside. When Millicent looked out the window, she could no longer see a hint of claw or fang.

“Slow down,” commanded Harcourt.

Millicent’s ears rang with the comparative silence as the coach settled to a normal pace.

“Those are Queen Victoria’s guards,” said the Master, his balding head now stuck out his own window.

Harcourt pulled his head back inside. “Nay, my lord. It is only illusion.”

Lord Sussex collapsed back into his seat. “Ghoulston’s magic is stronger than I thought. But, by Jove, I have spies who are immune to it! What is really ahead, Sir Harcourt?”

“A motley assortment of creatures escort Queen Victoria’s coach, my lord. It seems Ghoulston has brought up his army from the Underground.”

“That many?”

“They are more than six times our number.” Harcourt smiled, revealing his wicked canines. “I’d say the odds are about even.”

But Lord Sussex did not look reassured. “I cannot believe the silly chit went off without her own men. She is the queen—Ghoulston’s magic cannot be stronger than hers.”

“She sees what she wants to see,” said Gareth, “with the clouded gaze of a woman in love.”

Millicent stiffened, unsure if she should take some hidden meaning from his words.

“They have seen us,” called Timison’s voice from the driver’s seat.

“Stop the coach,” ordered the Master. “And open the door for me.” His intelligent gaze settled on Sir Harcourt. “We cannot risk any conflict with the queen inside that carriage. Lady Yardley will accompany me to speak with Ghoulston. He will not be suspicious of her. You three stay here. If I manage to get the queen back into my coach, you will have to find some way to convince her that Ghoulston is a blackguard.”

Sir Harcourt growled. “I do not like this. On what pretense will you trade yourself for the queen?”

“I need to have a man-to-man discussion with the duke on the responsibilities of marriage. I am the closest thing she has to a father, after all. And I was remiss in my duties. But now that I have accepted the marriage, I must honor them.”

Harcourt shook his blond mane. “I do not think he will fall for it.”

“You underestimate my powers of persuasion.” Lord Sussex turned to Timison as the were-tiger opened the door of the coach. “Tell Charles and Grayson to turn this carriage around and race back to London as soon as the queen is inside.”

Millicent raised a brow at Harcourt.

“They are the were-horses,” he whispered.

“Then why a coachman?”

“Lookout,” he idly answered, his concentration focused on his master.

“But what of your lordship?” asked Sir Timison.

Lord Sussex raised his bushy white brows. “Join your fellows and tell them to stay hidden in the shadows until I give the signal.” The old man’s diplomatic mask faded for a moment, and Millicent glimpsed the warrior beneath. “And then we have some sport, old chaps.”

The Master stepped out the door and glanced back at Harcourt. “And for Merlin’s sake, keep your shaggy head inside the coach.”

Lady Yardley followed him out of the carriage without a word, her face as white as a sheet, her lips tight with grim determination.

Millicent could no more keep the disbelief off her face than Claire could wipe the fear from hers. Convince a woman that the man she loved is lying to her? “It would be easier to fight Ghoulston’s men,” she grumbled.

Sir Harcourt grunted in agreement, although she did not think he actually followed her train of thought.

It became very quiet in the coach. Millicent strained her ears to hear what went on outside, her attention divided between trying to ignore Gareth and her guilty feelings, and Claire’s sudden peril. What had Millicent done, all for the sake of revenge?

Apparently Gareth and Harcourt concentrated on listening as well, for they all sat frozen, taking shallow breaths. She heard the jingle of harness as the horses danced in place. No, as Charles and Grayson danced in place. They might be half-human, but their animal natures would still prompt them to nervousness around a pack of predators.

Millicent could not hear or see them, but she could
feel
the rest of the baronets prowling around the two carriages.

Sir Harcourt cocked his head. Millicent heard it too. The sound of footsteps approaching their coach. Light, delicate footsteps. And then the sound of Lady Yardley’s voice.

“Men,” she sighed. “We must allow for their protective natures, Your Majesty. We will follow along behind your coach for a time, to give them their privacy.”

“Hmph,” replied Queen Victoria. “You would think my uncle would have allowed for this chat before we left, despite his initial disapproval of my plans.”

As one, Millicent, Gareth, and Harcourt slid across their seats to the far side of the carriage.

Claire opened the door, and stepped behind the queen.

And several things happened at once.

The windows of the carriage lit up from a flash of brilliant magic outside, creating a halo behind the queen’s petite frame. Growls and snarls erupted from down the road; a crack of gunfire from up ahead.

Claire unceremoniously shoved the queen into the coach. She landed across Sir Harcourt’s lap, a mass of silk blue skirts and lace petticoats. The large man flushed beet red, and hastily assisted the queen to a sitting position beside him. Claire scrambled through the door and slammed it behind her.

The carriage vaulted forward, swung crazily about—pitching Millicent into Gareth, and the queen into Harcourt once again—and sped back toward London.

“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Queen Victoria.

Gareth glanced at Millicent. “Even if we had the time, she would not believe us.”

“I know.”

“Do you remember how Selena…?”

Millicent shuddered. But he was right. It would serve them best to have the queen in love with Gareth instead of Ghoulston.

Harcourt was trying to reason with the queen, who just kept batting her fists against his broad chest. She looked even smaller next to the were-lion, and Millicent felt a flash of pity for her.

“This is kidnapping—treason!” she shouted. “I demand you turn this carriage back around this instant!” Magic sprouted from her hands, and Claire screamed, then slumped forward in a dead faint. Gareth shuddered. Millicent felt nothing, but she could see the struggle it took for Gareth to overcome the pain spell.

Her empathy for the queen faded a bit. The young woman could take care of herself, despite her youth and innocence.

Gareth slowly pulled out his knife, and then sliced open his thumb.

Harcourt, unaffected by the queen’s spell as well, glanced at Gareth’s bloody finger in confusion, and then his face cleared and he nodded.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” said the were-lion, and captured her head in his hands. Gareth leaned forward and stuck his thumb in the mouth of the most powerful woman in England.

Queen Victoria’s blue eyes widened in shock, and she inadvertently swallowed. Then she twisted her head out of Harcourt’s hold and splayed her hands with another burst of magic.

The carriage tilted and Millicent clutched the edge of the seat for support. The conveyance ground to an abrupt stop.

The queen smiled triumphantly.

Harcourt briefly stuck his head out the window, and then turned around with a grin. “She destroyed the harness between coach and horse. She knows we’re immune to her magic and has used it indirectly.
Well
done
, Your Majesty.”

The queen gave him a look that confirmed him as a madman, then raised her hands again.

“Err, your potion better take affect soon Sir Ga—” began Harcourt.

The bolts and glue and nails that held the carriage together suddenly disappeared as well. Harcourt and Gareth raised their hands to prevent the top piece from smashing upon their heads as the bottom collapsed beneath them at the same time, and they all tumbled to the dirt road. As one, the men tossed the roof onto a patch of heather.

Millicent rolled to her feet, looking for Claire while the men gathered up the queen. Her friend lay atop the cushion of the seat, still unconscious, but apparently uninjured.

“Unhand me,” snapped the queen, struggling against Harcourt’s hold. Then she spun and slammed into Gareth’s chest. “You—you… who are
you
?”

Her blue eyes glazed and a besotted smile spread across her face. Millicent scowled. Gareth’s blood worked a bit
too
well.

Harcourt suddenly shifted to lion and leaped over the carriage rubble. Millicent turned. They had not gotten far from Ghoulston’s men. The Master’s magical light still hovered above their carriage—despite it now being in bits and pieces—making them an easy target. She did not know what magical battle waged within the other carriage between Ghoulston and Lord Sussex, but the conveyance rocked on its wheels, shuddered betwixt and between, and spouted great grouts of crimson, indigo, and silver smoke from the windows.

The shape-shifters had already made a good account of themselves. Ghoulston’s army now looked as if they outnumbered them only four to one. But Millicent could see the baronets tiring. When several of Ghoulston’s minions broke away from the main group and headed in their direction, only a half-dozen shifters followed.

Sir Harcourt turned and pierced Millicent with a golden gaze. She nodded, shifted to panther, and took position beside him. They would protect the queen with their lives.

Millicent could hear Gareth speaking calming words behind her, the same tone he’d used to tame her beast. “Your Majesty. Stay behind my sword.”

“Oh,” she replied. “Ghoulston’s men won’t harm us. Poor creatures. He rescued them from the Underground, don’t you know? They cannot help the way they look, but we needn’t be frightened of them.”

Millicent could only feel amazed at Ghoulston’s powers of persuasion.

Wisely, Gareth did not try to argue with the queen. “They will take you away from me, my lady.”

Silence.

“In that case, I suggest you step out of my way, my dear knight. I wouldn’t want my magic to harm you.”

Queen Victoria’s attempted spell and Gareth’s reply were lost in a roar that shook the road beneath Millicent’s paws. Ghoulston’s creatures froze, glanced behind them at the coach, which now lay in splinters upon the road. Atop it stood a black dragon, with barbed tail, scales as sharp as daggers, and crimson eyes. It opened an enormous maw and spat liquid fire.

“Impossible!” said the queen. “My uncle would not create… dragon spells are illegal…”

“Not your uncle,” replied Gareth. “But Ghoulston. He has become proficient at black magic, Your Majesty.”

Millicent glanced over her shoulder. Love potion or no, she could see the queen’s mind working through her addled senses. Those large blue eyes narrowed to slits. “I will demand an explanation… later.” And Queen Victoria raised her arms, whispered something beneath her breath, and she changed. Not as a shape-shifter changed, altering swiftly to his or her other half. This appeared to be more unnatural, magic forcing her bones to grow abnormally large, to take the form of…

An odd mixture of unicorn and lion, with a glorious spread of wings.

“Her royal coat of arms,” murmured Harcourt. “Half-magnificent… although the addition of the wings is a nice touch.”

The enormous creature neighed, tossed its white mane, raked the ground with its powerful claws.

Gareth ducked as she took wing, the backlash of wind from the beat of them tousling his golden hair. He watched with a frown as the queen flew toward the dragon, his gaze turning to Millicent’s. “She cannot win.”

Millicent shook her head. She wasn’t so sure. As Ghoulston’s minions turned back around and started toward them once again, she thought the queen had a better chance than they did. The few remaining baronets harried them as they came, but did little to slow their enemies down.

Gareth took up a position on her other side. Harcourt growled a welcome as Timison materialized out of the shadows and joined them. Hoofbeats pounded behind them. Charles and Grayson returning.

Six against… over two dozen.

Millicent could feel them approaching now. The road vibrating with the pounding of running feet, claws, misshapen limbs. She could smell them. Sweat, sewage, the metal tang of blood. The dirt raised a dark cloud above them, and she could not see the dragon or the queen. She could hear only the roars and screams.

Gareth laid a hand on her head, stroked her fur as he bent to whisper in her ear, “Let me protect you.”

Millicent growled. She did not deserve his faithfulness.

“Nothing you do can ever make me stop loving you,” he continued. “
Nothing
.”

He had forgiven her for betraying him. Of course. He wouldn’t even make her ask. She felt even less worthy of his love.

Timison snarled, startling them both, for the tiger stared at the shadowy trees on the side of the road, and not ahead of them at the advancing hoard.

A great bear lumbered into their circle of light.

Gareth took a step forward. “Bran? Wait… no!” He held up his blade as a warning gesture to the spies, who had gathered back on their haunches, preparing to leap at the bear. “Sir Harcourt… Timison. Stop. He is a friend.”

Bran shifted to human. Millicent blinked. How… where…?

“Did ye truly think I’d let ye go off and get captured again?” he said to her. “Ye’ve had a penchant for trouble lately, me gel. I would not send you topside without me own spy.”

And then Ambrose swooped forward, spinning about Bran’s bushy head. “Yes! I followed you to Lady Yardley’s and saw the beasts capture you.” The sprite stilled his spinning and hovered a moment, giving Harcourt and Timison a pointed glare.

Millicent recalled the flash of wing she thought she’d spied in Claire’s bushes.

Bran glanced from her to the baronets to the advancing horde. “I cannot fathom what has changed… but at the moment, it appears we have a common enemy. Can we give ye a hand, lads?”

Timison and Harcourt exchanged a look.

“That’s what I thought,” grunted Bran. “Come on out, ye scavengers.”

Jackals, hyenas, and wolverines slinked into the light. Millicent had never felt so grateful to see her fellow creatures of the Underground. But she had no time to wonder at Bran coming to her rescue once again, for a club swung down at her and she leaped aside, only to see Gareth stick his sword into the arm of the giant.

Millicent clamped her teeth around the other arm.

They fought the giant as if they could sense each other’s actions without words. The creatures that challenged them could not prevail against Gareth and Millicent. And she felt something different. Not just that they moved as one. But something…

Her beast. It did not fully control her. She gave mercy when she could. She mourned the creatures she killed. She felt saddened by the necessary violence. Because of Gareth, the blind killing madness of the cat did not consume her.

As the world erupted into fighting, clawing, steel-flashing fury, she hoped the other baronets would not mistake Bran’s army for the enemy. But the spies must have figured out who was fighting whom, for when the last of Ghoulston’s creatures fell, the predators did not attack the remaining scavengers. Instead, they stared distrustfully at one another as quiet descended.

Millicent stood next to Gareth, both of them bloody, both of them winded.

And yet, it seemed over too quickly.

Thanks to Bran.

“The queen,” muttered Gareth, rising from cleaning his blade on the back of a tattered shirt. But Harcourt and Timison and the remaining spies had already sprinted down the road toward two shapes—one white, one black, locked together in a struggle that flattened the trees around them.

Millicent found the sprite hovering near the wreckage of their carriage. Claire still lay atop the cushions, unconscious of the chaos around her. “Stay with Lady Yardley. Call if you need me.”

The little man’s chest puffed. “It shall be my honor to protect her. I may be small—but never a coward.”

Then Gareth and Millicent sprinted after the predators, Bran and his men right behind them.

“Where is the Master?” huffed Gareth when they caught up with the rest of their force.

Millicent had wondered the same. Surely Lord Sussex would not allow his niece to fight this battle alone. But she could see only the dragon and the unicorn-lion.

They had left the Master’s magical light behind them with the coach, but another hazy sort of light with the glow of powerful magic surrounded the area around the carriage. And within it, Millicent could glimpse speckles of blackness swirling in a mass like small tornadoes.

“Do you hear that?” shouted Gareth.

Millicent nodded, the buzzing noise rising in volume.

“Bees.” Gareth grinned. “It’s a swarm of bees… that’s what your Master has conjured to fight the dragon.”

Harcourt’s face sagged in disappointment. “Insects?”

“Do you think another dragon would defeat Ghoulston without hurting the queen in the process? Your Master is clever.”

One of the insects flew past Millicent. It might have appeared tiny in comparison to the dragon, but to her, the bee looked about the size of her fist.

The bees swarmed the dragon’s head. The beast snorted, frying some of the insects, which dropped to the ground like a flurry of black snow. But most of them remained, beyond the dragon’s maw, covering those red eyes. The dragon loosened his hold on the neck of the unicorn-lion and clawed at his eyes.

Millicent turned and gave Bran a meaningful look. The big man stared at her with his liquid brown eyes, then slowly swung his head from side to side. He understood.

She could not leave until she knew the queen was safe. But neither could she tarry long after. Millicent had no doubt Harcourt would give the relic to the Master and doom Gareth to a life of imprisonment. She did not think the were-lion would allow
her
to walk away, either.

Bran’s men could hold their own against the Master’s spies. But not against a Royal’s magic.

The queen’s creature reared away from the dragon, who was now covered in the dark swirling mass of insects. The bees burrowed into places a blade of steel couldn’t reach, but the majority of them still attacked the dragon’s most sensitive areas… especially the eyes.

The dragon howled and clawed… and began to shrink, to turn back into the odious personage of the Duke of Ghoulston.

“Make it stop,” he screamed. “Have mercy—I am blind!”

The dark, swirling, buzzing mass coalesced into the portly form of the Duke of Sussex, who had just proven to Millicent to be shrewd enough to have actually earned the position of the Master of the Hall of Mages. “Oh, do stop whining,” he said to Ghoulston before turning to look up at the unicorn-lion. “A combination of your royal coat of arms? Well done, Victoria—but kindly change back now. We have much to discuss.”

When Queen Victoria changed back to her normal, diminutive stature, the baronets let out a cheer, followed by another resounding cheer from the underground shifters. She acknowledged their adulation with a wave of her hand, then lifted her skirts and delicately stepped over to her uncle and the duke—who still writhed on the ground in agony.

Millicent felt her lips curl in a grim smile.

It was less than Ghoulston deserved… but her Nell had been avenged.

And yet… she did not feel quite as triumphant as she thought she would.

Millicent turned and glanced up at Gareth, allowing herself to truly look at him. Blood spattered the front of his tunic, obscuring the red dragon embroidered in the thick weave. He’d fought wildly as usual, with little care for his own skin. Moisture curled the hair at his temple and brow into tiny spirals of gold. A cut along one sculpted cheekbone gleamed an angry scarlet, and dirt smudged his broad forehead and angular chin.

He looked… sublimely delicious… heartrendingly beautiful. He had always been an attractive man, but now… now she saw more than his handsome features. She knew his heart and soul, and loved him more than life itself.

Millicent nodded at Bran. He rose a bushy brow, but stepped over to Gareth’s side, and wrapped his arms around the taller man, trapping the knight’s arms in a bear hug, so he could not get to his sword. She shifted to panther and leaped on Harcourt’s back. He went down like a felled tree, flat to the ground, with an oath of surprise. It took a moment for the baronets to react. They were tired and injured. But within that moment, Bran had already signaled to his own men, who now outnumbered the spies, and they guarded the combatants.

Harcourt had no one to come to his defense, but she rather imagined he didn’t mind.

He shifted to lion, threw her off his back. Millicent landed, crouched to attack. They circled each other, looking for an opening. The were-lion’s eyes glittered gold, oddly delighted as he studied his opponent.

But Millicent had an advantage. Gareth had helped her master her beast. She did not think Harcourt had managed the same feat, for she saw little trace of his humanity at the moment.