Charles Bewitched (9 page)

“Eight hundred years,” he
said scornfully. “This treaty is eight hundred years old. How many treaties and
broken oaths have happened between our people since then to negate it?”

Lorrie coughed gently and
rolled the scroll back up. “If I may, my lord—we have several treaties ratified
since then, confirming the first...signed by Henry I, Henry IV, Edward IV,
Henry VII—
two
treaties from him; the Tudors left nothing to chance, did
they?—um, Charles II, and George I. That last one, I venture to guess, may have
been signed by my lord’s late grandfather.” She fished through the scrolls and
unrolled a second, much newer-looking one.

The fairy lord glanced at it.
“My
great
-grandfather,” he snapped.

“I stand corrected,” Lorrie
said, with a slight bow. Charles was sure he saw a twinkle in her eye, but he
couldn’t be sure from here.

“Do you acknowledge my
sovereignty, sir?” the queen asked.

“These would appear to be
the seals of my people,” the fairy lord agreed reluctantly. He looked up at the
queen. “It has been a long time since our allegiance to you has been
remembered, madam. May I ask to what to I owe the honor of this visit tonight?”

The queen nodded to Lorrie
who stepped back again, rolling the open treaty and wrapping it and the others
once again in their cloak of gold. “It
has
been a long time,” she
agreed. “High time, in fact, for me to remind you of our agreement, and request
a small tribute as an affirmation of it.”

A shiver went down Charles’s
back. This was it. Would it work?

“A tribute,” the fairy lord
repeated slowly. “Very well, madam. What would you ask of me?”

The queen’s chin rose
slightly. “I ask for the gift of the human woman whom you hold, my friend and
companion, Persephone.”

If the fairy lord’s
expression had been stern before, it was now infinitely darker and grimmer…but
his voice remained polite and modulated. “Alas, madam, you ask me for the one
thing I cannot give you. Is there no other tribute you will take? Persephone is
bound to me. The magic tying us together cannot be broken.”

“Nor can a treaty signed in
the blood of our ancestors,” the queen replied, equally politely. “Furthermore,
she is bound to me as well.” She reached up and touched a brooch at her
shoulder, made in the shape of a small dog with a star at the tip of its tail.

“Oh! I’d forgot about that!”
Charles exclaimed. Of course! The queen had named Persy and Pen as companions
to her secret order of DASH—Damsels At Service to Her Majesty—after Persy had
saved her from Sir John Conroy before she became queen. That predated the fairy
lord’s binding magic by—well, by only a couple of months, but it still predated
it. It made her claim on Persy even stronger than just the request of a
tribute—

A cold something seemed to
brush by him. He glanced up involuntarily and met the fairy lord’s eyes, now
the icy gray of a winter storm.

“So,” the fairy lord
murmured. He held Charles’s eyes a moment longer, and Charles knew that he had
deduced who was behind this unexpected visit from his forgotten liege lady. A
cold smile touched the corners of his mouth. “So I must give up my bride to
you, then, madam. But the magic must still be satisfied.” He let go of Persy.
She took one cautious step away from him, then another…and then she flew to
Lochinvar, who gathered her to him and held her as if he would never release
her.

“If I may not keep
Persephone,” the fairy lord continued, “I may still keep one of her blood. Come
here, my page.”

“Oh,
no
!” Persy
cried, unburying her face from Lochinvar’s chest. “No! You can’t keep Charles!”

“Can’t I?” the fairy lord
said calmly, but his eyes positively glittered with cold amusement.

Charles gasped. He hadn’t
thought of
that
, either. Was it true? Would the magic be satisfied by
his staying in the fairy lands instead of Persy, bound to be the fairy lord’s
man forever?

He looked at Persy, safe in
Lochinvar’s arms and—well, alive again. These last days she’d been so pale and
listless that she’d looked physically ill, and he wouldn’t have been surprised
if she eventually had just faded away into nothing, pining for Lochinvar, if
forced to remain here at the fairy lord’s side. She had a life and a home in
the human world...while he was just a schoolboy, without responsibilities or
ties and not likely to fret himself into an early grave the way Persy would if
she stayed. Mama and Papa would miss him, most likely...but not the way
Lochinvar would miss Persy. After all, it wasn’t like he would be dead—he could
write them letters sometimes, couldn’t he, and let them know he was all right?

He squared his shoulders,
and suddenly felt a lot less like a schoolboy. Once he was been anxious to be
thought grown up enough to ride from home to Galiswood by himself. Now he knew
what being grown up was
really
about: letting someone else go instead.
But before he could open his mouth and say anything, someone flung their arms
around him, half squeezing the breath from his body.

“Then you don’t have to leave!”
Margaret exclaimed. “I can keep you!” Her eyes were wide and shining with
happiness as she gazed up at him.

Charles returned her
glowing, exultant gaze, and the panic that had clutched at his throat eased
slightly. Things could be worse: yes, he needed to take Persy’s place and stay
behind in the fairy lands. But that meant he wouldn’t have to say good-bye to
Margaret.

“Are you sure you want to
keep me, even if I can’t show you any squirrels?” he asked her, letting his
arms slide up to encircle her in return.

“I’ll take you over a whole
forestful of squirrels.” She nestled the top of her head in the hollow of his
shoulder, and he felt a surge of protective tenderness wash over him. He looked
up and saw the fairy lord watching them with raised eyebrows.

“Very well, sir,” he said,
somewhat defiantly. “If I must stay in order to free my sister, then I will
stay.”

Margaret lifted her head and
sent her brother a stern look. “And you had better be kind to him, too, or I
shall be
very
displeased.”

“Woe betide those who displease
my younger sister,” the fairy lord said, and gave her an ironical bow. “But we
may need to have some words on this subject. Since when is a page a suitable
companion for a high-born fairy lady? I had other plans for you, Margaret.”

She scowled at him. “Well,
you’ll just have to forget them, dear brother. I will not let you be...be
bossy
at me and try to marry me off to one of your friends!”

“No? We shall see about
that.” Turning back to the queen, he nodded regally. “I am satisfied with this
change, Your Majesty.”

“Well, I’m not!” Persy said
indignantly. “You can’t have my little brother, and that’s final. And since
when is a viscount’s heir and duke’s grandson not good enough for anyone? I was
good enough for you, wasn’t I?”

She and the fairy lord glowered
at each other so darkly that Charles couldn’t help grinning to himself: they
probably would have murdered each other if they’d actually married. “Woe betide
those who displease my elder sister,” he muttered, but it was nice of Persy to
leap to his defense like that, even if she were being somewhat illogical.

“If you don’t want your
brother to remain here, you know what the solution is,” the fairy lord said
with icy politeness, and held out his hand to her. She looked away, biting her
lip.

The queen looked uncertain
and glanced beseechingly at Lochinvar, who looked just as uncertain but held
Persy more tightly to him.

“No,” said a firm voice. “Charles
does not have to stay. I will take his place.”

Lorrie Allardyce had stepped
forward. She handed the wrapped treaties to Lochinvar, curtsied respectfully to
the queen, then stepped past her and met the fairy lord’s look of surprise with
her own defiant nod. “I am Lady Seton’s—Persephone’s—bound handmaiden. That
makes me of her blood too. I will take her and Charles’s place.”

“Lorry!” Persy whispered.
“You don’t have to do this—we can find another way—”

Lorry’s chin was still high.
“But I wish to.”

“And why should I wish to
accept you in the place of my bride and my page?” the fairy lord asked with
chilly politeness.

“Because I’m a witch
too…isn’t that what you wanted in a wife?” Lorry said to him. “A human who is a
witch?”

His scowl lessened the
smallest bit and he looked at her thoughtfully. “So?”

“Quite so,” she replied
crisply. “I expect we could come to an agreement which would satisfy us both.
And I would like to come to the fairy lands. I’m tired of my life here. There’s
nothing for me to do—but there is in your world. I’ve read and studied about it
for years. I want to go there.”

Charles opened his mouth to
add his protests to Persy’s, then remembered his conversation with her on the
day he’d arrived at Galiswood. They’d talked about her study of fairies and
she’d hinted at her restlessness. If she stayed here, there would be plenty for
her to learn and study—and a possible position as lady of the fairies. And as
for that…he grinned. In a match between the fairy lord and Lorrie Allardyce, he
would lay at least even odds on Lorrie more than holding her own.

“Miss Allardyce,” the queen
said. “Are you
sure
?”

For the briefest instant,
Lorry hesitated. She looked at Persy and her mouth shook just a little, but she
straightened it firmly. “I’m sure, Your Majesty. I’ve been thinking about this
ever since we got Charles’s letter.”

“Well.” The queen looked at
the fairy lord. “I am satisfied. Are you?”

“No!” Margaret said, and
clung more fiercely to Charles. ”I want him to stay here.”

The fairy lord frowned at
her. “Nor am I satisfied. But I expect that I must accept this trade.” He bowed
to the queen, perhaps not as deeply as the occasion warranted, but she didn’t
seem to notice. Instead she had already turned to Persy.

“My
dear
Persy!” she
exclaimed, holding her hands out to her. “You don’t know how
happy
I am
to have been of use to you, after what you did for me! Come, let’s go back to
Galiswood and out of this night air—dear Albert hates it if I get sniffly—”

“One moment, Your Majesty.”
Lady Northgalis stepped forward and into the space between the fairy lord and
the queen.

“Mother, what—” Margaret
began. Charles drew in his breath and put a finger to her lips, shaking his
head. Poor Lady Northgalis had seemed so defeated when they spoke together that
day...but maybe there was a spark yet left inside her. Her saw her glance keep
straying to Lochinvar, and he understood where that spark had come from.

“Yes?” the queen said,
regarding her with a questioning smile.

“Your Majesty—my lord,” Lady
Northgalis said, bowing to each in turn, then facing the queen. “Your Majesty,
I claim your protection as a human and a British subject.”

“What?” the fairy lord
looked thunderstruck—and furious, which was enough to make the queen draw
herself up again and hold out her hand to Lady Northgalis.

“I don’t understand,” she
said, but kindly. “Should I know who you are?”

Lady Northgalis laughed
softly. “No, ma’am, you don’t. I died when you were just a small child…or
rather, was taken by these fairies and a changeling left in my place to die. I
was married to this present lord’s father, much as Persephone nearly was. But
he is dead now, and there is no magical binding to keep me here. I want to go
home and see my son and husband.” She turned and looked at Lochinvar, who
started and returned her look.

“No—it can’t be…” he
whispered.

“It certainly is!” Charles
said. This was almost as good as bringing him and Persy back together.

“No!” snapped the fairy
lord. “I absolutely forbid it. You are part of my court.”

Lady Northgalis truly had
thrown off her old despairing fearfulness. “No,” she said to him. “I was part
of your father’s court. You cannot force me to stay now that he is gone. You
have no claim over me.”

“Perhaps not.” He smiled
unpleasantly. “But I do over my sister.”

“Oh, I say—” Charles stepped
toward him, but to his surprise Lady Northgalis shook her head and laughed.
“Only half a claim, step-son. She is half-fairy, but she is also half-human. By
the old rules she must be allowed to spend time in both worlds if she chooses,
and there is nothing you can do to stop her.”

There were more indignant
words bandied between them which the queen finally had to step in and settle,
but Charles had stopped listening. Instead he looked down at Margaret, who
still clung to him. “So it isn’t good-bye, then,” he whispered.

She shook her head, and a
slow smile curved her mouth, bringing out that distracting dimple. “I wasn’t
going to let it be, anyway. My brother isn’t the only one who can use a bow to
stun a human, you know.”

“I don’t think your brother
would be happy to see me in his lands again—or even dancing in his clearing.”

“But there are other clearings,
are there not? And besides, my mother promised that if we came to the human
world, I would be able to dance at your queen’s court some day.” She tried,
unconvincingly, to look bored at the prospect.

Charles tried to imagine
Margaret coming out in London society and smiled. She’d set them all on their
ears, but he’d better plan on being around to keep an eye on her, just in case
she was a little
too
Margaret. Well, with the expanding railroads, it
shouldn’t be too hard to pop down to London from university on occasion, to
make sure she didn’t get into too much trouble and to warn off any fine London
dandies.

They left the clearing a few
minutes later, Persy and Lady Northgalis between the queen and Lochinvar,
preceded by a proud-looking Nando who carried a torch to light their way.
Charles and Margaret followed a little distance behind them. As they reached
the edge of the clearing Charles looked back, and saw the fairy lord still
watching them, his face back to its usual inscrutability. Their eyes met; to
Charles’s surprise, the fairy lord nodded to him in a gesture of...of what?
Acknowledgment? Respect for a worthy opponent? He nodded back, and looked at
Lorrie standing beside him. She smiled, then made a shooing gesture at him. And
then the figures in the clearing became obscured by trees.

And as they began the walk
through the moonlit woods back to Galiswood, Charles patted the book tucked in
the belt of his fairy tunic. Well, what do you know?  History just might turn
out to be useful on occasion, after all.

The End