Royal Enchantment

by Sharon Ashwood

  Then he backed away from the monster and went to the small girl, who was still crying. Ignoring his wounded shoulder, Arthur gathered her up from where she was stranded amid the broken china and carried her out of the mess. Her warm, soft weight was comforting, but he didn’t get to hold her long. The child’s mother was there, sobbing words that Arthur couldn’t unravel through his exhaustion. She put her arms out for her daughter, relief and gratitude in every line of her body. Arthur surrendered the child.

  “I suppose you want me to clean up the mess?” Merlin asked drily.

  Arthur spun. “How are you up and walking?”

  The enchanter’s face was the shade of curdled milk. “I don’t recommend manticore venom. It’s like the hangover you get after a drinking party with trolls.”

  Merlin said something under his breath, and the manticore’s body imploded into a pile of dust. Half a dozen curious onlookers leaped backward in alarm.

  “The glamor fell when you were unconscious,” Arthur said.

  “My apologies. It’s back under control,” Merlin replied, his lips white with strain. “All but the most observant will think this was no more than a clever bit of showmanship.”

  Arthur put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “Come with me. You need to sit down.”

  “We don’t have time for that.”

  “I need a better plan,” said Arthur.

  “You think I can give you one?”

  “I need you to open a portal. Gwen needs rescuing and Talvaric needs killing.”

  Merlin shrugged. “I think your plan is just fine.”

  Chapter 26

  “The good news is that I know where Talvaric took Gwen,” Merlin announced. They were in Arthur’s SUV, speeding back to the hotel. “I had a look at the portal. He didn’t bother to hide the new destination.”

  “Careless or overconfident.” Arthur wasn’t sure which was worse. Both said Talvaric wasn’t concerned about retaliation. “What’s the bad news?”

  “Everything else.”

  That killed conversation for a few minutes. Eventually, Merlin cleared his throat. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “I thought you said my plan was fine.”

  “In principle. I’m not liking the logistics. The moment you walk through the portal, you’re on Talvaric’s turf.” Merlin’s eyes drifted shut. With a wrench of guilt, Arthur saw the enchanter was still weak.

  “There are many reasons I would rather not walk through the portal,” Arthur said quietly.

  “You prefer to fight on your own ground.”

  “I do.” There was no point in lying. “And I know asking you to open it is a drain of power when you can least afford it.”

  Merlin chuckled. “It takes more than a manticore to put me out of action.”

  “You’re my oldest friend.” Arthur slowed for a red light, loathing modern traffic rules. “I don’t take your well-being lightly.”

  “Appreciated, but I know you,” Merlin agreed. “There’s a reason you left your men behind to mop up the monsters, including the ones with microphones. You’re sneaking off. Owen might be in his own particular zoological heaven with all the beasts at large, but the others would rather be at your side. Logically, they should be.”

  The light changed and Arthur stepped on the gas. “So?”

  “The reason you’re going solo is that Gwen is a problem only you can solve. This is really about you and her. Talvaric just happened to step in the middle of it.”

  “Talvaric is a maniac who wants to slaughter me on television,” Arthur grumbled.

  “He wants to kill a king,” said Merlin. “He made it personal when he took your wife.”

  Arthur cast a glance at Merlin, whose amber eyes were open now. A familiar irritation crept over Arthur. Talking to Merlin was a mixed experience—half enlightenment, half confusion. “I don’t see the difference.”

  “You’re the King of Camelot, but you’re also Arthur. And there is the real problem you face, beyond fae and lunatics and monsters. You’ve always been too much a king, and Gwen too little the queen. She’s tried to wear the crown, to find her own way of fulfilling her role, but you haven’t truly let her.”

  Arthur clenched the steering wheel in frustration. Gwen had said pretty much the same thing. “I’ve tried to protect her.”

  “Perhaps you should show her how to protect herself.” Merlin’s eyes drifted shut again. “Don’t take away her self-respect.”

  Arthur’s chest tightened. Gwen had been about to walk away and start her own life without him. All at once, the enormity of that unthinkable future hit him. Without her, there would be no adventures to conquer trolls, no clever solutions, no romance under the stars, none of her creative, curious spirit. She was beautiful, yes, but she was brave, stubborn, ingenious and always seeking new and better ways to look at everything, even if it was just a way to keep foxes out of the chicken coop. If she were gone, he’d be bereft.

  She was his partner. Arthur’s thoughts skipped a beat as he realized the truth. He’d never seen it before. And I love her. This is what loving someone actually means. What if she didn’t want him now? What if—

  Arthur pulled the SUV into the hotel parking lot and killed the motor. Merlin was right—his true challenge was making things right with Gwen. She would either forgive him, or he would have nothing.

  Merlin shifted in his seat, easing his wounded side. “You need someone to remind you to be a man as well as a king. You need someone to share your burdens. Without that, it’s easy to lose your way. And a lost monarch becomes little more than a tyrant.”

  Arthur was silent. This is why Camelot requires a queen. He sucked in a breath. “We had an arranged marriage. She never actually agreed to wed me.”

  “Fix it. You need her,” Merlin added. “And that’s why I’ll risk sending you to Talvaric’s home.”

  The knot in Arthur’s gut eased. “Thank you, old friend.” He’d faced Talvaric as a king, with defiance and principles. The next time they met, Arthur would face him as a man, battling to save the woman he loved.

  “Then let’s go.” Merlin reached for the door handle when his phone rang. When he looked at the caller ID, his expression filled with an irritated disgust. “It’s Clary.”

  The enchanter put the phone on speaker. “Aren’t you supposed to be dragon-sitting?”

  “I thought you said the magic on Rukon’s cave would hold even if you fell asleep.” Clary’s voice was sharp.

  “Of course it will,” Merlin retorted, and then a horrified look stole over his features. “Although the fact that I was poisoned and passed out probably changed things.”

  “Whatever. Rukon isn’t in his cage any longer,” Clary said in the strained tone of one dealing with a very large lizard, “and he says he wants to go home now.”

  Arthur instantly saw the possibilities. He hadn’t planned on taking backup, but... “Tell him I think we can arrange that.”

  * * *

  The jeweled comb in Gwen’s hand had long teeth that slid easily into the lock of her cell door. Unfortunately, they were carved from bone and didn’t hold up to her attempts to force the pins. Gwen heard the snap of another tooth breaking. With a curse, she pulled the comb back through the bars and examined the damage. The comb was of fae design, rimmed in sapphires and very pretty. Unfortunately, it was now missing three teeth. Despondently, Gwen pushed it into her hair to hide the damage.

  Gwen had washed and changed into the clothes Talvaric had provided, and the sapphire comb had come with the gown. She had put off changing for as long as possible, but eventually grime and stale sweat had made her reconsider. Besides that, defying Talvaric without a good reason was foolish.

  As if merely thinking about the fae drew him forth, Talvaric’s steps rang on the stone
floor. Gwen straightened, shaking out her skirts. When he came into view, a pair of dryads followed at a respectful distance, their heads bowed.

  “Aren’t you a picture?” he said with a sly smile.

  The tunic he wore was the same blue as her gown, with the same silver cord around the neck and wrists. The symbolism was plain, even if Clary would have condemned the coordinated outfits as too matchy-matchy. His green gaze swept from her hem to the combs in her hair. Gwen had seen that look before—possession, and it wasn’t even for her own sake. Talvaric simply wanted to outrage Arthur.

  Her skin crawled with disgust. This is just another adventure, she told herself. It was like being in the troll’s lair, only worse because she was alone. She wanted Arthur’s presence so badly it hurt. She’d been afraid in the mines, but there was a vast difference between then and now. Here, no one had her back.

  Talvaric studied her expression with a faint smile. Cruelty lurked beneath the curve of his lips, a blade disguised but by no means sheathed. “Come. I have something to show you.”

  He took a key from his belt and unlocked the door. There only seemed to be one key, she noticed, but was careful to appear uninterested when he put it away and handed her out of her cage. They set off toward a different part of the house, the silent dryads shadowing their steps.

  “I paid your world a visit today,” he said conversationally.

  “Did your journey have a purpose, my lord?” Gwen asked in her most polite tone.

  “Certainly,” he said, and added nothing more.

  He was baiting her with the vague answer, but she refused to bite.

  They passed through a gallery, where pictures might have hung. Instead, there were a lot of swords and she guessed he used it as a practice room for fencing. At the other end, a short flight of steps led to an octagonal chamber surrounded with windows. While most surfaces in the manor were painted white, the floor was a colorful pattern of blue and orange. The design was a starburst in a circle of hammered bronze and in the center was a plinth holding a crystal globe. Gwen knew at once it was a room for working magic. She had no powers of her own, but the energy in the air prickled her arms.

  Talvaric stepped up to the globe and made a swiping gesture with one hand. The crystal fogged for an instant, and then the mist parted to reveal an outdoor scene of utter mayhem. A crowd of ordinary people milled about, ducking and screaming and trying to snap pictures with their phones. Above them, gargoyles flicked to and fro, diving with the speed and agility of swallows. Gwen’s shoulders tensed. The creatures were harmless, until they weren’t. In a pack, they could be savage.

  “My world doesn’t have live gargoyles,” she said, doing her best to smother her horror. “What did you do?”

  “I gave Camelot something to chew on. It wasn’t my first intention, but Arthur refused to take me seriously.”

  Gwen looked up with a frown. “I find that hard to believe.” Arthur despised the fae, but he would never discount them.

  “Perhaps I’m saying this the wrong way. Let me try again.” Talvaric tapped his chin with one finger, mimicking someone deep in thought. “He refused to give himself up to save your life, so I sent my beasts to show how serious I truly am. Does that make more sense?”

  The fae’s smirk deepened. He refused to give himself up to save your life. That was what Talvaric wanted her to hear. She wasn’t loved. No one would come to rescue her.

  Sick despair froze her veins. Arthur was king. Of course, he couldn’t drop everything to mount a rescue. Wife or not, she was just one woman. One woman who would never give him the heir he needed. A woman who couldn’t find it in her heart to trust him. The question wasn’t whether Arthur would come, but why he would bother.

  “You could have asked,” she said lightly, even though her knees shook. “I could have told you he can’t be manipulated for my sake.”

  Talvaric’s eyes narrowed, a flush of anger creeping up his cheeks. “Then what good are you?”

  None. “You should have sent spies to check your facts. If you want to be King of Faery, you should know that every good king has spies.”

  “I have this.” Talvaric pointed to the crystal ball. “What I saw between you looked like love to me.”

  And love was a weapon he could use.

  Gwen swallowed, thinking of the past days with Arthur, and trying not to think of Talvaric watching them through his crystal ball. What she’d shared with Arthur might have been love and maybe even a brief partnership, but she would never admit it to this monster. “You have no soul. What would you know of true affection?”

  Talvaric’s eyes met hers, and there was murder in them. Gwen’s blood turned to ice, but she set her jaw. Pride refused to let her look away.

  Then the windows behind them shattered. Shards of glass fountained in a thousand tiny, stinging pieces, catching in clothes and hair and biting exposed skin. Gwen ducked, shielding her face as her ears rang with a deafening roar. A sudden rush of wind brought the scent of forest and smoke. Dragon smoke.

  A furtive glance told her Talvaric had forgotten her. His pale face was slack, eyes transfixed on whatever was behind her. Gwen spun around to see Rukon’s giant green form outside the window. The dragon was flapping in place, toothy jaws bared in a snarl.

  Gwen bolted. After enjoying the freedom of light modern clothes, the gown felt unbearably heavy, tangling her feet as she moved. All the same, she flew through the gallery with the swords, bursting past a clutch of dryads. They watched her with curiosity, but didn’t move to stop her.

  “Run!” Gwen called out. “The dragon has come for Talvaric.”

  She had a small window of time to get out of the manor house and find the portal Rukon had used. Hopefully, it would take her home.

  She turned, and turned again, frustrated because every room and corridor was the same featureless white. Before long Gwen suspected she was going in circles.

  One more burst of speed took her into a long, long hallway that sloped downward. It was wide and high ceilinged, more of a tunnel than any household corridor. Her first instinct was to retreat. This wasn’t the way outside, and she’d had bad luck with underground lairs. Still, she stopped, poised on tiptoe and holding her breath. There was a sound coming from the darkness that reminded her of...peeping chicks?

  Given what she’d seen in Talvaric’s manor, there was no telling what was down there. Gwen wished she’d grabbed a sword when she’d raced through the weapons room, but all she’d been thinking about was freedom. Which was what she should have been thinking about now, except it wasn’t just her own safety that mattered. She had to consider all the creatures in Talvaric’s zoo. Some of them were dangerous, but none of them deserved to be his captive—and whatever was down here sounded as if it was very, very young.

  She ran forward on light feet, glad the passageway was smooth and straight. There was a soft, rosy light coming from the other end, throwing just enough illumination to find her way. A slight crook at the end of the tunnel angled into a large natural cave. Gwen stopped, grabbing the stone wall for support. Her lips parted in surprise.

  Elosta, the blue dragon, lay curled around a clutch of eggs, and they were hatching.

  Chapter 27

  The fight was on, and Arthur was betting that a willing dragon was far deadlier than a dragon forced to obey.

  Whatever magical leash the fae used on Rukon had been weakened by exposure to Merlin’s spells. As for the rest of the fae’s hold—it was a two-edged sword. Talvaric had Rukon’s mate. That was a powerful control, but it was also a reason to fight.

  Merlin had opened a new portal—one big enough for a dragon—that sent them just outside Talvaric’s manor, on the lush green of the lawn. Rukon had gone through first, but only by seconds, and was aiming for the north end of the house. As Arthur followed, the portal snapped shut, magic tingl
ing like the air before a storm. Arthur took off at a run, aiming for the other end of the sprawling structure. If Talvaric had any wits, he’d run in the opposite direction from the dragon’s attack—and straight onto Arthur’s blade.

  Arthur circled the perimeter of the place, looking for a way in with no success. Frustration mounted quickly. The house didn’t simply lack a formal entry—there wasn’t even a tradesman’s door. With a stable and gardens and large property to maintain, there should have been many ways for the servants to come and go. Unfortunately, they were invisible.

  Arthur drew Excalibur and stood with his back to the manor. In the sword’s bright blade, the reflection of the house was clear and, as always, the charmed sword cut through magic. Arthur saw the entry and its guard—a creature that resembled something between an insect and a uniformed footman. As he turned and stormed toward the entry, the glamor broken, the creature scuttled away.

  The door wasn’t locked, and Arthur was inside just in time to hear Rukon’s outraged roar. A surge of panic sharpened his focus. If he was going to find Gwen, he would have to work quickly.

  * * *

  Gwen stood openmouthed. The eggs were so large she could have barely held one in both her arms, and the shells were iridescent shades of blues, purples and greens. The colors reminded her of the riches of the goblins’ treasure hoard, but this was even more wonderful. The rosy light was coming from the eggs themselves. The gentle heat of the cavern was boosted every so often when Elosta breathed licks of flame into the air.

  The tiny dragonets nearly made her laugh out loud. They were as big as full-grown cats, if cats had bat wings and necks as long as their tails—but they were clearly newborns. Four or five were tumbling around the clutch, clumsy but determined, with their translucent wings spread wide for balance. If all the eggs were viable, there would be a dozen young, each matching the color of its shell.

  Arthur’s story of Elosta plummeting from the sky jarred Gwen’s memory. She had nearly perished, and these eggs would have gone cold and dead. A glance at the dragon showed her wings were charred, the fine membranes that webbed them in tatters.