Royal Enchantment

by Sharon Ashwood

  “Because you’d lose.”

  “Perhaps,” he said frankly, “but I don’t think the real fight is between you and me.”

  Rukon’s response was an insolent puff of smoke that slid past Merlin’s barrier and made them cough.

  Arthur cleared the smoke around him with an irritated wave. “King Zorath named Talvaric of the fae as the true enemy of us both.”

  That got a reaction. Rukon growled, gathering his feet beneath him as if readying for another spring. “The goblin king risks much by revealing that name.”

  “He had a troll problem like I have a dragon problem. I was able to get rid of the nuisance troubling his mines.”

  “By slaughter,” Rukon said darkly.

  “It was a sad necessity.” Arthur took a step forward, his hand on Excalibur’s hilt. “You’re smarter than any troll. There is no need for your death.”

  “Yet,” Merlin muttered under his breath.

  “Is Talvaric forcing you to be here?” Arthur asked Rukon. “Is that the treachery you spoke of?”

  Gwen had seen Arthur like this before. It was how he dealt justice from his throne—respectful, but firm and always searching for the real issues beneath a problem.

  “It’s Talvaric’s name that the minstrels are supposed to sing, not yours,” Arthur said. “Your boasting was a sham. Talvaric wants the other fae to know how powerful he is and how worthy he would be to sit on the throne of Faery. You’re just his weapon.”

  “That is the truth.” Rukon bowed his head, both in acknowledgment and defeat. “He took my choices from me.”

  A ripple went around the gathered men, Owen’s outraged voice carrying above the others. Gwen drew closer to Arthur, proud of him for uncovering the facts.

  “You are the Pendragon,” said the creature, sounding lost.

  “What does that name mean to you?” Arthur asked, his voice solemn.

  “It is not a name,” the dragon said. “It is a responsibility. The first Pendragon was our protector in a time of dire need, and his line was sworn to do the same. But that duty has been forgotten.”

  “My father died and never had the chance to tell me of it,” Arthur said. “You can.”

  “It is too late. Talvaric knows how to ensnare the beasts of the Forest Sauvage, the Crystal Mountains and the enchanted realms beyond.”

  “The enchantment over you is not enough to force your every move,” said Merlin. “How does Talvaric bend your will?”

  The dragon exhaled another angry breath of smoke and steam, causing Merlin to fall back a step. “He came for me first among my kin.”

  Gwen had been silent, letting the facts unfold, but the pieces were falling into place now. “He came for you first, and you hesitated to kill without cause. So, he went to the other dragon next. The one you call Elosta. But it sounds as if she struggled to escape his snare and fell from the sky.”

  Rukon bellowed in rage, shaking branches from the trees. Flocks of birds filled the night sky with frantic caws and whistles.

  “She is my mate, and Talvaric has our young.”

  Chapter 21

  Talvaric pushed branches aside, ignoring the rake of thorns against his skin. Something was in his trap—the slight spell he’d woven to signal success had drawn him at once to this distant corner of his lands.

  The site was ideally situated near a stream where the beasts came to drink. He used the illusion of a struggling bird as bait, but the trap itself was iron. He could have used something magical to actually hold his prey, but that lacked visceral satisfaction. Metal teeth sunk into a creature’s flesh left no doubt who was in charge.

  He emerged into the small clearing where the trap lay. His first reaction was disappointment when he saw the struggling fox, one of its dainty, black-stockinged legs caught and bloody. Only a fox? He’d hoped for something better. Another dryad, perhaps. They were about as entertaining as potted ferns, but he needed more slaves to clean the cages of his collection.

  The fox’s desperation was plain—which was some compensation—as it bit and worried at the iron, at the ground, even at its own paw. Left to itself, it would probably chew off a limb. He was tempted to let it, but then saw the splash of green at the tip of its tail. This wasn’t an ordinary fox, but a Charmed Beast of the Forest Sauvage.

  Talvaric drew near. He saw the fox’s ears prick, and then its head turned to reveal wide amber eyes. With a yelp of fright, it started digging with its one good foreleg, as if it could burrow out of sight. Talvaric grabbed it by the scruff.

  “Well, aren’t you a surprise?” he said, turning the animal so he could get a view of its face. The fox, however, tried to duck away. He gave it a hard shake.

  “Please,” the fox begged, tucking its tail as low as it could go. “Please.”

  “Please what?” Talvaric asked, because he could.

  “Let me go.” The fox started panting with panic. “I need to go, master.”

  “I don’t agree.”

  Talvaric released the trap with a single word of power. The mechanism clicked open and fell to the dirt. Instantly, the fox’s feet began flailing as it wriggled to break free. Talvaric saw with satisfaction that the creature’s leg was not actually broken, even though the flesh was torn. A broken bone would have made it less useful.

  “Stop struggling!” Talvaric gave the fox another shake. “Be still.”

  The fox froze. “I want to go home.”

  “We all want something, vermin.”

  Talvaric sat on a fallen log and held the beast in his lap. Beside him, the stream bubbled past, autumn leaves spinning in the current. Once, before his soul had been ripped away by Merlin’s spells, he would have been transfixed by the natural beauty of the place. Talvaric recalled his wonder, but it was an impression, nothing more. He couldn’t recapture the feelings behind those images. The memory was haunting, like listening to a language he no longer understood.

  Arthur and his pet enchanter would pay for what had happened to the fae. Talvaric’s people remembered what they had been, and that was enough to serve as a springboard to power. He would prove his worth by crushing the enemy. He would rise and Camelot would suffer.

  Talvaric let his dreams go and came back to the present to find the fox staring him in the face. The black nose twitched with anxiety. This creature would be disappointingly simple to bend to his will.

  “What is your name?” he asked.

  “S-senec, if it please you, master,” the thing sputtered in its clear tenor. Why was it that the foxes always had such fine voices?

  “Tell me about yourself. Do you have a mate?”

  “Not yet.”

  Too bad. It was so easy to control a creature by stealing its mate or its young. That had worked perfectly with the dragons. He had a clutch of eggs that someday would give him the power to conquer entire realms.

  “So you’re young,” Talvaric mused. “That has its advantages. I can train you the way I like.”

  The fox’s response was another, shorter bout of struggling. That was brought to a quick end with a single blow to its hindquarters.

  “You’re mine now, Senec,” Talvaric said. “Whatever I tell you to do, you will do it. You will do it when and how I say. You will not attempt to find a loophole in my instructions but carry out my wishes in both spirit and letter. Furthermore, you will not attempt to escape.”

  “Y-yes, master,” the fox replied.

  Talvaric knew foxes. Their reputation for craftiness was deserved. He turned Senec so the fox had a good view of the clearing. “There is something you need to know about this place. I cover it with a glamor that cloaks what is truly here from all the senses—sight, smell and touch included. I do that so creatures like you will wander into my trap.”

  The glamor hiding the clearing fell away,
and Senec gave a terrified whine. As Talvaric withdrew his spell, carnage became visible. Pieces of flesh scattered the ground, the bushes and even the lower branches of the trees. White bone protruded from some. Black-and-white fur clung to many. “The last animal I caught in my trap was a Charmed Beast like you. A badger. He didn’t want to obey.”

  “P-please, master,” the fox whined.

  “I gave this disobedient badger to one of my trolls to play with,” he said. “He lasted longer than you might think.”

  Senec began to shudder, making faint, piteous sounds. It couldn’t have been easy to shake that hard when standing on only three paws, but Talvaric still had a firm grip on his scruff. He turned the fox around again.

  “Are you going to obey me?”

  The fox cringed into a puddle of rusty fur. It seemed to have lost its ability to talk.

  “Good.” Talvaric curved his mouth into a smile. “I’m glad we understand one another. That will make it so much less inconvenient for us both.”

  Perhaps this fox wasn’t the disappointment he’d originally thought, but a stroke of luck. His plans with the dragons hadn’t unfolded the way he had expected—sometimes ambitious leaps fell short. Senec would be so much easier to control. Reliable. Useful.

  And if Talvaric’s original scheme had unraveled, there had been unexpected developments in his favor. Who could have expected Queen Guinevere’s appearance on the scene? Morgan had tried and tried to find Arthur’s weakness to no avail. A foolish mistake, in Talvaric’s opinion. If any man had a soft side, it would be vulnerable to the human queen’s golden beauty.

  “In a handful of hours,” he said to the fox. “I will have a message for you to deliver. I trust you will be prompt to obey.”

  Talvaric petted the soft red fur as the animal shivered in mindless terror.

  * * *

  “We have to let him go,” Gwen said, shedding her coat.

  There hadn’t been much more to Rukon’s story, as the dragon knew little of Talvaric’s actual plans. They’d returned to the hotel room after Arthur and Merlin had deemed it safe to watch the dragon in shifts, with someone skilled in magic there at all times. Merlin, Gawain and Owen were on first watch.

  Arthur paced to the window. “I don’t think releasing him is wise.”

  The light from the desk lamp cast odd shadows that made him look tired beyond his years. Or maybe that had just been the day.

  Gwen rose to join him, cupping his face between her hands. “But the mystery is over. We know about Talvaric. We know why Rukon’s caught up in this, and we know what he’s suffered.”

  “And is still suffering.” Arthur stepped out of her grasp and pulled off his jacket, leaving only a long-sleeved T-shirt. He’d pushed up the sleeves, and every motion showed off strong forearms, honed from years of wielding a blade. “If we open the cage, we have no protection and Rukon is still in Talvaric’s power.”

  “But he doesn’t want to be. He hasn’t hurt anyone yet.”

  “Yet.” Arthur’s gaze caught hers. “Talvaric has his young, and his mate is missing or dead. There will be no more eggs for Rukon. Dragons mate for life.”

  “So he’s going to do whatever Talvaric says, because his children are hostage.”

  “Exactly.”

  That made everything worse. “But we can’t keep him trapped forever. He’ll die.”

  “I know.” Arthur gave a weary sigh and sank onto the couch. “However, I can’t let him go until I’m certain he won’t kill us all.”

  It was hard to argue with that, but she did, anyway. “You’re the Pendragon. You’re supposed to protect their kind.” She sat beside him and took his hand in both of hers.

  “And I will, by killing Talvaric as quickly as possible.”

  That was a plan she could get behind. Gwen tilted her head so she could kiss his jaw. His clothes still smelled of wind and pine, and the image of the brilliant, starry night filled her mind. Arthur slipped his arm around her and they stayed that way for a long moment. His shirt was soft beneath her cheek, the steady thump of his heart hypnotic. The night air had left her sleepy and exhilarated at the same time. Every sense was heightened and yet relaxed, as if she were humming with life.

  He hadn’t pushed the issue of returning to his apartment, and she was grateful. The hotel was a safe space and neutral ground. Whatever they had started to build wasn’t ready for the larger expectations of his personal territory. Here, Gwen had a claim, too.

  He kissed the top of her head. It was a fond gesture, and it quickly led to more. They tasted one another, tongues tangling. Arthur’s breath was hot and urgent as he explored her, claiming her kiss with the thorough determination of a general. His hand found the comb that held her hair, pulling it free so he could run his fingers through the long tresses. Gwen felt the weight of it fall down her back, uncoiling as it went.

  Desire flared so easily between them now, as if just waiting for an excuse. She ran her hands down his shirt, glorying in the hard muscle beneath. Then she slid onto his lap, straddling his legs. Her core ached with the anticipation of what would surely happen next, and she settled carefully, winding her arms around his neck and leaning in until he took her weight. He wouldn’t stay trapped beneath her unless he wanted to, but it was the surest way to claim his attention.

  “How can I help with Talvaric?” she asked.

  The question seemed to startle him, chasing the gathering languor from his eyes. “You’ve done enough.”

  “Until Talvaric is dead and the dragons are safe, no one has done enough.”

  Arthur’s jaw set. “I don’t want to be Rukon, mourning my mate.”

  That wasn’t the right argument. “We don’t know exactly what happened to Elosta, but it’s clear she was reluctant to be bound by an outside will. She fought until her wings tangled in that net. I admire her defiance.”

  “Even so,” Arthur said, “I think—”

  “I don’t want to be bound, either,” Gwen interrupted.

  They locked gazes, and his only grew more stubborn. She slid off his lap, rising to pace the room. Old anger bubbled inside her. Despite everything, it seemed they had to have this argument one more time. She prayed it was the last.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked with a touch of impatience. It was interesting how he always took that tone when he didn’t know what to say.

  She spun to look at him. “I’ve been part of this, at your side, and for once I feel as if we’re working together.”

  He stood, brows drawn together. “I feel the same way.”

  “Good. Then learn from the experience. You don’t have to bear your destiny alone. You have your men and Merlin, and you have me. You especially have me.”

  She’d never used this snappish tone with him before. He was her husband, but he was also a king. At the moment, she didn’t care that she was supposed to be reverent or even polite. After six years of marriage, she’d run out of patience.

  “Guinevere,” he said, her name an admonishment.

  That only made her temper flare hotter. “If you don’t want me by your side, doing my part, say so now. I can build a life here for myself that has nothing to do with Camelot.”

  It was then she saw his anger rise in a slow flush up his cheeks. “Or me.”

  “That’s your choice.” She swallowed, taking a breath to rein in her words, to make them true instead of just angry. “I have an idea of the burden you bear, and it staggers me. But if you trust the people who love you, we can share the load. And look at what happens when you do—we caught a dragon and found the truth. Take heart from that. Let me be your asset.”

  “You are. You provided the trap’s design.” Arthur’s jaw worked, but he made a visible effort at control. “I realize how badly I’ve underestimated what you can do.”

  Gwen took a b
reath, because suddenly she could. They’d turned a corner. There was a glimmer of something better for the two of them. Suddenly even the room felt warmer and more welcoming.

  “I want you to go to school and learn everything you can,” Arthur said, his voice rough. “You deserve it, and I know it will make you happy. And that makes me happy.”

  Her eyes stung with tears of hope, but she stood her ground. “No guards dogging my tracks.”

  “Not unless there’s an active threat.” He nodded, emphasizing his promise. “And if it matters to you, Camelot needs your skills. You can make a solid contribution to whatever we do.”

  He was giving her everything she’d asked for when they’d met for cocktails. That night felt as if it had been years ago now—and it was, in terms of experience. Then, she’d been content to build a life alongside Arthur’s. But now? Now she wanted to be part of his. “So why is that acceptable, and yet you won’t let me help now?”

  “Sitting at a desk drawing a design for a cage is sensible. It’s not the same as running headlong into danger.”

  “I don’t want to run headlong into danger. I’m capable of judgment, and there’s a wide patch of ground between real danger and being an involved partner. You saw what I did in the Crystal Mountains.”

  “You nearly got squashed by a troll.”

  “Not that part.” She flicked a hand. “The part where I talked Zorath into speaking with Camelot in the first place.”

  “That was useful,” Arthur admitted.

  Gwen gave an unladylike snort. “Thanks.”

  “But you never know when to take a step back for your own good.” He took a step forward, blue eyes intent, and took hold of her shoulder. “You were sick for months after you went with the army to Wales. It broke my heart.”

  “And you don’t think it broke mine?” The memory slammed her, too painful at the best of times, but worse when she was already stinging from the reporter’s questions earlier that day.