Lieutenant Javan stood in front of the tree where his prisoner had once been. Manacles and keys lay on the ground. Landcross was gone, and so were the horses and all their gear. They were literally left with nothing save for their lives.
“Do you think the creature killed him, sir?” his second in command, Parkinson, asked.
“No,” the lieutenant answered. “This was a rescue operation. Landcross is out there somewhere.”
* * *
Archie Norwich, his new bride, Eilidh, and his little sister, Clover, traveled in their carriage through the city of London. The three-day journey from Southampton had actually been a restful one for Archie. He had barely slept in the past week after his late father, Tarquin Norwich, sent him on a mission to help obtain a book with a spell designed to capture and contain the Fates. It was a horrible plan. Not in the sense that Tarquin was going about achieving his goal naïvely, but it was wicked due to the fact he wanted to control the keepers of life and death, using them to kill people before their time in order to take over the world. If Pierce Landcross hadn’t forged his own copy of Peachtree’s journal, and altered the words to the spell, Tarquin might have succeeded. In the end, though, the Moirai took their revenge and severed Tarquin’s fate thread, stopping his heart on the spot.
When Archie returned to his father’s mansion, he sent a telegraph to his cousin, Queen Victoria, explaining his sudden death. As he suspected, the Queen requested he come to Buckingham Palace. The following day, he loaded his family into their carriage and left for London. During the journey, he told Eilidh everything about his mission. Clover did the same.
Clover had been busy during the trip writing in her journal, working on her new adventure story. He’d watched her at times, smiling at the cameo of their late mother that she now wore as a necklace.
The coach turned on the long road of the Mall leading straight to Buckingham Palace. From the corner of his eye, something flashed by the window beside him. Was that a person wearing a black hat? When he looked, nothing was there, and so he dismissed it. The door swung open and the figure he thought he imaged, leaped inside and sat next to Clover, who was across from Archie. Eilidh screamed and Clover jumped. Archie was going for his gun when he noticed who the intruder was.
“Mr. Pierce!” Clover said cheerfully.
“’Ello, everyone,” Landcross greeted with a wave. “Long time, eh?”
Eilidh breathed deeply while holding her chest over the strong beating of her startled heart. “Pierce? Pierce Landcross?”
He winked at her.
“Aye. That I am, love.” He removed his hat and took her by the hand. “And you must be Mrs. Archie Norwich. Charmed.”
He kissed her hand, and she blushed.
Archie regained his voice and stuttered out, “Wha . . .? What are you doing here? I thought you were sailing with the Sea Warriors.”
“I hit a detour, I’m afraid,” he partially explained. “Mind telling the driver to pull off?”
Archie ordered Rhys Lane to go into St. James’s Park and search for a place to stop.
“How on earth did you find us?” Archie demanded.
“You mentioned you were heading here to tell the Queen about your father’s death, remember? I’ve been checking carriages all morning long. I didn’t hold out much hope you would make it here so soon, but here you are.”
“But you couldn’t possibly have known which castle we were visiting.”
“No, but considering the amount of guards stationed at Buckingham, I figured they’re not there guarding Her Majesty’s pets, eh?” Landcross sounded a bit vexed. He looked exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept in days.
The carriage stopped in a secluded place along the edge of the path under a few trees. They stayed in the coach as Landcross explained about his arrest in France, his escape, and what Lieutenant Darius Javan had told him about his parents.
“Do you believe him?” Archie inquired.
Landcross leaned forward, looking at his hands as he tapped his fingertips together. A few strands of his shoulder-length hair fell over his face. He didn’t bother moving them away.
“He described them to me.” He raised his chin. His eyes were full of anguish. “Since they attacked him, there’s a chance they’ll get the rope.”
“Oh, Pierce,” Eilidh moaned dolefully. “I’m so sorry, darling.”
“We can speak to the Queen on their behalf,” Clover chimed in.
Landcross smiled at her.
Eilidh’s complexion paled. “We can’t speak to the Queen about this. That will most certainly link you and Archie to him, which could get you both into serious trouble.”
Archie was very aware of that himself.
“She’s right, Landcross,” he agreed gravely. “I want to help, but I can’t risk my family’s safety by being associated with outlaws.”
“I wasn’t suggesting you do anything of the sort,” Landcross retorted. “I just need a way in, ’tis all.”
“A way in? You mean into the palace?”
Landcross nodded. “Aye. I plan on speaking to the Queen myself.”
Archie gaped and nearly fell off his seat when he leaned forward.
“You’re mad,” Eilidh gasped. “How do you think you will accomplish such a thing without ending up dead or arrested?”
“The same as I did before—disguise myself as a guard and sneak into her room,” he answered blithely.
“If it’s so easy, then why haven’t you already tried going in yourself?” Archie challenged.
“’Cause security wasn’t as tight as it is now. Ever since my little stunt, the place has been swarming with guards. I can’t scale the fence like last time.”
“And you want us to get you in?” Eilidh surmised.
“Aye.”
Archie raked his fingers through his dark red hair. “What are you planning on saying to the Queen? How do you plan on convincing her to set your parents free?”
“I have something in mind, no worries. Can you help me?”
Archie chewed his bottom lip.
“Please,” Landcross went on. “They’re my parents.”
“He did help save me, Archie,” Clover reminded him.
Archie considered that and figured he owed it to him. After Landcross’s brother, Joaquin, kidnapped Clover and turned her in to be used as slave labor at Norwich Castle, Archie turned to Landcross for help. Landcross had done so, risking his life with a vampire when he made an agreement with him. It was then Archie saw the man’s humanity. Ever since, Archie considered Landcross a dear friend.
Archie looked over at his wife. She appeared as if she was about to protest, but then shrugged. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”
Thankful for her response, Archie smiled and said to his friend, “All right, Landcross.”
* * *
Pierce knew what he was talking about when it came to the tight security. No unexpected guests were allowed in through the gates, and every permitted coach was searched. Pierce had noted this beforehand. Since Archie had already informed the royal residence of who would be joining him, Pierce couldn’t disguise himself as a footman or some other servant without drawing suspicion. Instead, Archie requested the coat from his coachman, along with his hat, and told Rhys to come to the palace a couple of hours after nightfall, when the nightshift guards would be relieving the current guards of their posts.
Pierce headed down the Mall toward the castle with his heart slamming against his ribcage. The guards at the gates were causing a dizzying fog to cloud his thoughts. His vision dimmed as though he was about to blackout. Before he did, he shook away the spinning and blinked until his sights returned. He kept his hat low and spoke in a thick Scottish accent when reaching the gates.
“Laird Archie Norwich ’ere tae see Her Majesty, the Queen,” he announced.
The guard’s stare made his inners quiver as he strained to maintain a calm demeanor.
When the guard stayed silent, Pierce cleared his throat and
added, “Also, Lady Eilidh Norwich an’ Lady Clover Norwich.”
“I see,” the red uniformed man responded simply.
The guard approached the window and tipped his bearskin cap with a bow.
“Good afternoon, Lord Norwich.”
“Good afternoon,” Archie greeted. “We are expected. I am sure you have already been notified?”
As they spoke, another guardsman searched under the coach, behind it, and the rooftop, as well.
“Yes, Lord Norwich, we have,” the guard answered. “Forgive the delay, but we must take precautions.”
“Oh, yes, I have heard about the recent break-in into my cousin’s bedchambers.”
“Indeed, My Lord. We have sent a hunting party out to hunt down the rogue.”
“Yes, well, with any luck, they have caught the bastard.” Archie threw in. “Perhaps while we’re here, we may get to witness him hanged, God willing.”
Pierce gritted his teeth.
After some brief questioning, the guards opened the gates. Pierce steered the coach to the recently built façade front palace entrance, and into the enclosed courtyard beyond, where servants greeted them. Once their luggage trunks were unloaded, Pierce rode over to the stables. He questioned the stable hands about where he could get something to eat, and they directed him to the servant’s kitchen. He cut through the cook’s room and snuck into the laundry area, where every Foot Guard and Household Cavalry cleans and presses his uniform after each shift.
Strangely, Pierce had already known about the servant laundry room for some time now. Not that it was a secret, but neither was it common knowledge. Despite never having been told about it—at least, not that he could recall—Pierce knew exactly where the place was and how to get there.
Pierce walked into the nearly vacant alcove as if he belonged and simply plucked a uniform from the rack that appeared most likely to fit him best.
* * *
Eilidh stepped into the palace and instantly became overwhelmed by the decorative white walls, red-carpeted staircases, golden railings, and portraits of past monarchs. Tarquin Norwich’s mansion was a large place. Buckingham Palace surpassed that house ten times over. The scale of the building caused her to be slack-jawed while the servant escorted them all the way upstairs and to one of the State Rooms.
The servant stopped and stood straight as he announced, “Now entering: Her Majesty, the Queen, and her consort, Prince Albert.”
Eilidh snapped out of her trance and readied herself. The reality of the crime they’d committed came into full focus the moment England’s monarch appeared.
Queen Victoria, who had taken the throne seven years ago at the age of eighteen, stepped in, glowing with youthful beauty and grace. Her plum satin dress sounded her like ocean waves when she moved. Her white cheeks were painted with crimson blush, and her lips were dressed in the color of rosewood. Dark hair hung from her temples in thick braids clasped together by an emerald-jeweled clip behind her head. This, Eilidh noticed when Her Majesty briefly turned to glance at her husband. Her dark eyes were firm, but also filled with genuine kindness. Her husband, Albert, wore a black suit with golden thread trim. He was clean-shaven, save for a thin mustache. His light brown hair was short and neatly combed back.
They were the picture of true royalty.
Archie bowed deeply while Eilidh and Clover curtseyed with heads lowered.
“Archie,” the Queen said, approaching him with arms open.
As they embraced, Eilidh waited nervously to be received. After the young queen pulled away from Archie, she stepped in front of Eilidh and clasped her hands in hers. She held them tenderly, as though she and the Queen were sisters. Eilidh hoped she couldn’t feel her trembling.
Even on her wedding day—which could’ve resulted in both her and Archie being killed if Tarquin Norwich had found out—had Eilidh been so tense. Apart from being an ex-lowly servant now in the presence of the most powerful people in the United Kingdom, she was also guilty of assisting a fugitive into the palace. Pierce said it himself. He planned to speak to the Queen personally. If the thief went through with it, would he break down and inform about how he got in? Somehow, she doubted it. After hearing the stories about him from Archie and Clover, and upon meeting the man briefly, Pierce didn’t strike her as the betrayer type. Perhaps it was his charm, but that single kiss on her hand had captivated her on some small supernatural level that had never affected her before. It almost seemed like she and Pierce shared something otherworldly. In any case, it was enough for her to agree to help him on his insane quest.
“And you must be the lovely Eilidh,” Queen Victoria said, leaning over to kiss her on both cheeks.
Eilidh did the same. “Your Majesty.”
Prince Albert stepped over to Archie and the two shook hands with cheery grins. When the Queen faced Clover, her cheeks lit up.
“Clover, it is good to see you, my child. My, look how much you have grown.”
“My Queen.” Clover smiled with her hands clasped behind her, innocently swaying her body from side to side.
Eilidh envied her husband and Clover for their natural demeanor under the circumstances. She, herself, tried not to seem too tentative and prayed she was being convincing.
Everyone exchanged brief pleasantries, mainly about the travel from Southampton, and in the end, the Queen had the final say. “Let us continue this conversation after you rest. We have much more to discuss, yes? Dinner shall be ready no later than six.”
They thanked the Queen and her consort for their hospitality and were escorted to their chambers.
Only when Eilidh was inside the privacy of their guest quarters did she breathe freely again. Archie assured her that everything would be all right, and that, whatever Pierce wanted to speak to the Queen about, it would surely work itself out.
Eilidh didn’t entirely believe that.
* * *
Lieutenant Javan and his naked soldiers managed to cover a great deal of ground on foot through the countryside. Travelers flat-out refused to give any of them a lift. It was a very humiliating experience, indeed. Shame wasn’t the only thing Lieutenant Javan carried with him; it was also determination to reach London and find out if his gut feeling held true about Landcross, who had been very disheartened to learn of his parents’ arrest. Would the fool go to Newgate to attempt a jailbreak? If so, he’d have Landcross in custody again soon enough, and if that bloodsucking devil was with him, Javan would be ready for it, as well.
As a group of naked men, they created quite a stir among the townspeople when they eventually arrived in Sittingbourne. It didn’t take long before a man on horseback encountered them.
“What’s in your heads, coming into my town without wearing any clothing? Is this some perverted theater play?”
“Are you the sheriff?” Lieutenant Javan asked firmly.
“Aye. And you are . . . ?”
“Lieutenant Javan. First Lieutenant Darius Javan. My men and I are in need of assistance.”
The sheriff snorted. “I should say so. What in God’s name happened to you?”
The lieutenant bit the inside of his cheek. “We were ambushed last night in the forest.”
Javan didn’t particularly wish to reveal more, yet someone behind him felt the need to elaborate.
“The assailant stole our clothing, horses, and weapons.”
“Assailant?” the sheriff asked. “Meaning only one? One person overpowered the lot of you, all cut from the Queen’s own army?”
Lieutenant Javan’s face flushed to a burning radiance. When his talkative soldier saw his enraged expression, he stifled his tongue.
As the lieutenant turned back to the highly amused lawman, he began to explain. “It was not human. It was something . . . else.”
The humor left the sheriff. His skin became grey as though remembering some occurrences from his own past.
“I see,” he said grimly. “I’ve had run-ins with things that lurk in the forest once or twice mysel
f.”
“We need horses,” Lieutenant Javan explained hastily. “We must return to London.”
The sheriff’s smirk returned.
“May I suggest clothing to go with those mounts?” he recommended in a jocular manner. “Riding bare bottom could cause quite the chafing, I’d imagine.”
Lieutenant Javan permitted himself to smile.
“I believe clothing was implied.”
The sheriff supplied the lieutenant and his men with horses, weapons, and clothing from the local clothing shop. Lieutenant Javan vowed to return and pay for everything, and with that, he and his soldiers rode from town.
* * *
During dinner, Queen Victoria listened as Archie explained that when Ivor ended his own life, the shock of it had stopped his father’s heart.
“Oh my,” she gasped. “Dear Archie, please accept my deepest condolences.”
Archie smiled warmly at her.
“Thank you, Your Highness. My father thought fondly of you.”
Somehow, the Queen doubted that. She found Tarquin Norwich to be a hateful man. During the three occasions when she had met him, twice as a young girl, and the last during her coronation, she remembered him as always giving off an ominous energy that often frightened her.
“What shall be done about the southern territories?” Albert demanded. “Did your father leave the responsibility to govern them to you?”
“He named me successor if both he and Ivor passed, but I humbly request someone with more experience take my stead. In fact, I tend to sell off Norwich Castle on the Isle of Wight.” Archie gripped his wife’s hand. “My desire is to lead a simpler life and raise a family.”
Victoria found it touching. Although she loathed being with child and cringed at the sight of wrinkly newborn babies—even toward her newly arrived daughter, Alice—she loved the idea of family and family life.
A dreamy gaze fell over Archie as he became lost in his wife’s face. He stayed silent for a few moments before remembering he was in the middle of a serious conversation with royalty. He cleared his throat. “That is, if I have your blessing, Your Highness.”
The Reunion Page 3