Kathryne Kennedy - Everlasting Enchantment

Long ago a great wizard was born with magic in his very blood. He lived for thousands of years and went by many names, but the one we know best is Merlin.

Merlin passed his magic down through his offspring, and the power made his children rulers. Some inherited more magic than others, and eventually titles reflected their gifts. In Britain, kings and queens held the strongest power. After the royals, dukes had the greatest magical abilities in that they could change matter. Marquesses could cast spells and illusions and transfer objects but not change them. Earls mastered illusions, while viscounts dabbled in charms and potions. Barons had a magical gift, which could be as simple as making flowers grow or as complicated as seeing into the future.

And then there were the baronets. Part man, part animal, the shape-shifters were Merlin’s greatest enchantment… and eventually his greatest bane. For out of all mankind, they were immune to his magic.

Merlin created thirteen magical relics from the gems of the earth, a focus for some of his greatest spells. After Merlin’s disappearance, his children tried to find the relics, since these items held the only magic stronger than their own. The relics proved to be elusive until his children discovered that the shape-shifters they so despised could sniff out the power of a relic.

Over the centuries the relics faded to legend. But the most powerful of Merlin’s descendants did not forget, and shape-shifters became the secret spies of many rulers.

London, 1839

Where magic has never died…

The Duke of Ghoulston’s coach rocked to a stop in front of Buckingham Palace and Millicent Pantere growled low in her throat. A throng of finely dressed lords and ladies made their way beneath magical shimmering arches of color into the massive double doors of the palace to young Queen Victoria’s ball.

“I don’t belong here,” murmured Millicent as anger curled through her belly. Why couldn’t the duke have ordered her to fight a legion of ogres armed to the teeth? Now that she could have managed with relish. But no, he had to send her up against the cold eyes and knowing whispers of the nobility. As if she had any hope of fooling them into thinking she was a lady.

The door of the coach flew open and the duke’s footman leered in at her. “Time for the ball, Cinderella.”

Millicent’s low growl turned into a snarl. She had the satisfaction of seeing the footman blink with fear before the duke spoke from the seat across from her.

“You’d best behave yourself,” he remarked, those black eyes glittering even in the shadows. “We’ve doused you with perfume but we can’t be sure it will entirely hide your scent from the other shape-shifters. You animals have such gifted noses.”

Millicent tried to take a deep breath but her new corset stopped her halfway. The blasted thing crackled whenever she moved, the fabric stiff against her back and belly, the whalebone inserts lacking the suppleness of age and wear. When she gathered her brocade skirts together and exited the carriage, they felt just the same—stiff and unnatural. She suppressed the urge to kick at the horsehair petticoats when they threatened to trip her up as she stepped onto the glittering walkway. Instead she swept her gloved hands gently over the swell of fabric below her waist, adjusted the heavy satin cloak about her shoulders, and waited with feigned patience for the duke to join her.

The coach bounced upward as the duke stepped out. Time and rich food had robbed him of the handsomeness he must have possessed as a youth, but the powerful confidence he radiated almost made up for it. His sharp black eyes swept over her as he held out his arm. “You look lovely, my dear. See to it that all the months of preparation are not wasted tonight.”

“It won’t work,” snapped Millicent as she took his arm with a forced smile, revealing the slightly long canines at the corners of her mouth. “You can’t turn an animal into a lady in just a few months.”

“You’d best make it work,” murmured the Duke of Ghoulston as he squeezed her arm. “You have more to lose than I.”

He swept her into the crowd on the walkway, his height a match to hers, only his top hat making him appear taller. Arches of brilliant, magical color towered over their heads, the flagstones glittered at their feet, and the walls of the palace reflected the enchanted light within their diamond-studded walls. Although she could look through the illusion if she tried, Millicent did not bother using her immunity to magical spells to do so. She might as well derive what enjoyment she could from her task.

She squinted against the glare. Even after months of living aboveground, she still couldn’t get used to the abundance of light. The people up here appeared to be spoiled by sunshine, for even at night they had to light their streets and rooms too brightly with fire and magic.

They entered the doorway, gave up their coats to a footman, and made their way to the ballroom, lining up with the other guests as they waited for the young queen to appear. Millicent tried not to crane her neck upward and stare. The colored arcs continued into the ballroom and swept across the enormous ceiling, cascading down the walls in sapphire, crimson, and yellow. It reminded her of something she’d seen once, but she couldn’t quite recall it.

“Rainbows,” whispered the duke as he followed her gaze. “Surely you’ve seen a rainbow before?”

“Of course,” she replied. Although sunshine didn’t often penetrate to the depths of the Underground, she’d found an old complex of tunnels where shafts of sunlight filtered down the slimy brick walls, making a splay of color shimmer in the air. The magical rainbows that decorated the ballroom outrivaled those, however, even if they appeared to her only as a transparent illusion. “Do not think I’m impressed by your kind’s magic. I’m immune to your tricks.”

“Ah, but that’s what makes you so useful, my dear.” He bestowed a fleshy-lipped smile on her. “That, and your animal senses.”

Millicent scowled. “It might not even be a relic,” she whispered. “Merlin’s relics are only a myth, after all.”

“Are they?” replied the duke. “Take a look around. A good look.”

Millicent blinked against the glare, but studied the room. They stood at the beginning of the line, among the upper nobility who possessed the highest titles and therefore, the most magic. At the end of the line stood the shape-shifters who were immune to magic. Most of them rivaled the other nobility with their physical beauty, but that wasn’t what held her attention. The duke had told her that aboveground, the Master of the Hall of Mages—uncle to the queen—championed the baronets. If the Duke of Ghoulston thought Millicent could steal this relic he suspected was hidden here, it made sense that other baronets could sniff out a relic as well. Perhaps that explained their value to the Crown.

“Are there usually this many baronets at a ball?”

“Good girl. No, they detest society as much as we detest them.”

Millicent’s nostrils flared. Now that she knew their nature, she could catch the scent of the other weres, despite the smells of perfume and melted candle wax and fairylight dust. “Predators. All of them.”

“They hunt, my dear.”

She nodded. The Underground harbored many shape-shifters. But besides Bran, who could shape-shift to bear, they mostly consisted of jackals and hyenas and the like. Scavengers. She’d never seen so many akin to her. She smelled lions and tigers and leopards. Oh my.

Millicent frowned. “And you expect me to find this relic before they do?”

“You have an advantage, my dear. Me.”

If he called her my dear one more time… Her anger stirred the beast inside her and Millicent counted beneath her breath to ten. By the last count the red haze had cleared, and she could think rationally again. She huffed out a breath. She should be grateful for the duke’s arrogance, if it meant that she would succeed in her task.

The duke’s gaze followed hers, and his bushy brows lowered as he stared at the group of shape-shifters. “If anything goes wrong, meet me back at my underground castle. Use the graveyard entrance I showed you.”

“So you’re not as confident as you pretend to be,” scoffed Millicent.

The duke squeezed her arm painfully. “Do not, by any means, return to my mansion in Gargoyle Square. Do you understand?”

It took all of her willpower not to fling him across the room. “Don’t worry. The beast of darkness will return to her lair.”

He nodded in satisfaction, completely missing the sarcasm in her voice.

A hush descended over the guests and a diminutive woman entered the room. Millicent would never have guessed her to be the queen if her ladies and advisors hadn’t surrounded her. Queen Victoria slowly went down the line of nobility, stopping occasionally to speak to an honored few. By the time she reached the Duke of Ghoulston, Millicent’s muscles had tightened like a bowstring within her costume. She would never be able to fool the Queen of England into thinking she was a lady.

“Ah, Lord Ghoulston,” said the queen, holding out her hand. “Did you ride today?” Her blue eyes looked at him owlishly. The queen had an innocent gaiety that made Millicent feel much older than her one-and-twenty years. And tarnished by comparison.

The duke swept his fleshy lips just above the surface of her lace glove and straightened. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“How did you find the weather?”

“Er, quite fine.”

“That’s good. I also went riding… and who is this lovely lady?”

Millicent kept the bland smile on her face by sheer force of will.

“The cousin of a cousin,” replied the duke. “Up from the country to experience the delights of London.”

Millicent remembered to curtsy. She managed it without falling over and with only a slight pinch from her corset, rising with a grin of relief.

“I see.” The queen leaned toward her conspiratorially. Millicent bent down, embarrassed by her height for the first time in her life. “The gigot sleeves are quite out, you know.”

Millicent had no idea what the queen meant. She glanced at her puffy sleeves, seeing little difference in the queen’s own, except for a narrowing at the shoulders. She struggled for a response. “Thank you for the advice, Your Majesty.”

The queen smiled beatifically and moved down the line. Before Millicent had the chance to comprehend that the queen had actually thought she was a lady, and had spoken to her as one, a real lady stepped in front of them. “Willie. What a pleasure to see you.”

Millicent smothered her smile at the lady’s use of the duke’s first name. She wondered how many people managed to get away with the impertinence, and took an instant liking to the other woman.

“Lady Yardley,” crowed the duke. “You look as elegant as ever. May I introduce you to Lady Millicent?” He lowered his voice. “She’s just up from the country and this is her first soiree.”

The woman turned and gave Millicent the full force of her smile. Despite the past several months of training to transform her into a true lady, Millicent now could see the real definition of one. Lady Yardley’s auburn hair had been curled at the sides of her head and formed into an elegant knot at the top—with not a single strand loose about her face, unlike Millicent’s own straggling coiffure of inky black hair. The woman’s soft hazel eyes spoke of sophistication, while Millicent’s own amber gaze glittered with the hardness of surviving in a cruel world. The lady’s calm demeanor commanded respect, something Millicent could never hope to imitate.

The duke scowled at Millicent and she remembered to curtsy again. He gave Lady Yardley a look that apologized for the ill grace of a country bumpkin. “Millicent, my dear. May I introduce Lady Yardley, Lady of the Bedchamber to the queen, and daughter to the Earl of Sothby?”

“How do you do?” mumbled Millicent.

The duke’s ploy of passing Millicent off as a country lass appeared to work. Lady Yardley’s eyes softened with sympathy and she held out her arm. “This must all appear very grand to you, I’m sure. Just remember that half is magic and the other half self-delusion.”