Kathryne Kennedy - Everlasting Enchantment

“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.