Hatshepsut's Collar (The Artifact Hunters #2) (41 page)

He took Cara’s hand as they continued further into the Tower to find Victoria on the green in front of the White Tower, her back to the Waterloo barracks. Her generals loosely gathered around her, ready to hear their final orders before executing her plan. She had donned a feathered helm and armoured breastplate featuring curling Chinese dragons intertwined in gold relief against the steel background. Their claws clutched the banners of their foe, the bodies of the fallen trampled under their feet. Cara fought hysterical laughter. With the queen’s short rotund stature, she resembled an ornate coalscuttle clutching a feather duster. A farcical sight under any other circumstances. Now, it only seemed to emphasise how far she had descended into insanity.

The queen raised her arms to the sky as though calling on the elemental power of the thunder and lightning, threatening to overflow above their heads. Hearing the stomp of booted feet approach, she turned wild unblinking eyes to Nate and Cara. Her blue irises retreated; overtaken by the black pupil, the white of her eyes stained red with bloodlust.

Prince Albert stood at her side, resplendent in dress uniform with a sabre on his belt. His brown eyes haunted by his inability to stop his wife.

Victoria raised an arm at Nate. “You! They have brought the traitor before us! We shall spill your blood first as an offering to ensure the success of our troops.”

“I’d rather not,” Nate replied, his words lost to Victoria by the whirls and eddies of the wind spiralling down into the green.

“He is innocent.” Prince Albert stepped forward between Nate and the queen. “Duke Nolton has played you false, Victoria. He is the one leading you down this path.”

“No! Nolton is loyal to us.” She faced her consort.

Albert shook his head. “He covets your throne and spreads lies about you. He intends to snatch England from behind your back while you are looking to China.”

“You lie!” she screamed at her husband. “You wish our power for yourself, but you shall not take it. Duke Nolton warned us to trust no one.”

Sir John stepped forward from the line of generals. “The prince speaks the truth, ma’am. From Duke Nolton’s own lips, we have heard his plan to capture you and take the throne for himself. He is in collusion with China and plans to imprison you there.”

She shook her head.
No
spilled from her lips in a constant litany of denial. Wild eyes scanned the assembled nobles and soldiers. The scarabs attached to the collar rose on their silver toes and fanned their wings. A metallic buzz filled the air as they spoke to the queen in their own tongue.

“It does not matter. Our plan is clear. China will bow to our dominion. Then Russia after her, then the Americas will return to us.” She hugged her body, embracing the world to her armoured bosom. The wind responded, whipping around her and plastering her skirts to her legs.

“Enough!” Albert shouted, spinning to confront his wife. “You will not send our people to their deaths to satisfy your greed. This is not you, Victoria, come back to me.” His arms reached for his wife.

Nate edged forward, ready to lunge when Victoria’s attention became focused on her husband. His hand trailed down Cara’s arm until only their fingertips touched. Another step, and he moved beyond her reach. Albert’s gaze flicked to the lovers and the uncertainly written over Cara’s face before he returned to face his mad wife.

Cara’s breath came in short bursts. She wanted to screw up her eyes, but couldn’t look away in case she never saw Nate again in this life.
Oh god, this is going to hurt.

Around Victoria’s neck, the scarabs reared up on their hind legs, wings outstretched, electricity humming and jumping between the tips. Lightning flashed overhead, coming perilously close to striking the White Tower. Over the rage of the building storm came a reptilian hiss from the mechanical creatures trapped by the collar and echoed by the queen.

Nate lunged at the same instance as Albert.

The prince shouldered Nate, and reached out one hand.

Thunder boomed and rattled the ancient buildings as lightning broke across the sky.

“No,” Nate shouted, Albert’s momentum sufficient to nudge him off course.

Both men reached out a hand, but Nate’s closed around air as Albert clutched Hatshepsut’s Collar. Grasping the necklace, the prince wrapped his fingers around the thick gold links. With a violent jerk, he ripped it from around the queen’s neck.

She staggered under the force of his action and screamed. The small mechanised scarabs also vented their rage.

Albert’s hand closed around the central gem, the eye of Horus. Energy sizzled and cracked, trying to find a way to escape his clutch, blue flashes zapping from between his fingers. A clap of thunder rent the air, deafening everyone, and the light burned their eyes. A bolt of lightning tore through the sky, the storm above no longer held at bay. The flash above sought its partner below. The two forces met in the eye of Horus, held by the prince and the red gem flared to life.

Albert cried out as blue flame escaped his hand, licked up his arm, and then encircled his torso like a python constricting its prey before rearing back its phantom head and plunging through his heart. Wide, startled eyes turned to the queen as he dropped to his knees before her.

She called his name, dazed as though waking from a long slumber. The lightning shot upward to the sky, draining the essence from Albert’s body as it bled amongst the black clouds.

Victoria’s cry became a scream.

Nate lunged forward, intent on rushing to the prince’s aid. Cara grabbed his arm tighter.

“We can’t touch him with the power running through his body, it will take us all,” she yelled over the commotion.

He nodded and held her tight by his side as the strange lightning lit up the green.

Seconds crawled past. Nobody moved. The bolt leapt upward, leaving Albert’s body and the scarabs fell silent in his limp fingers. The prince sunk to the grass, a moan escaping his lips.

Victoria shook her head as thunder rattled the foundations of the White Tower and the storm unleashed itself. Clouds gave way under the weight of their load and torrential rain fell straight to the earth. Large, ponderous drops saturated the ground within moments.

Cara wound her arms around Nate’s torso, watching the tragedy unfold before them. He folded her close, his lips grazing her ear. “Now the light has released him, can we help him?”

She shook her head. “No. He is in God’s hands now.”

“Albert!” The primal scream echoed around the Tower, bouncing from the ancient stone walls. Victoria fell to her knees. Grasping Albert’s shoulders, she shook his body, screaming his name over and over. The ravens cried with the bereft queen; they took flight, yet remained within their invisible boundary, tethered by her pain. Circling around their heads, they screeched in empathy, sending a shudder throughout the assembled population.

The cry of her consort’s name turned to an incoherent, high-pitched keening. She wrapped her arms around her beloved’s body, clutching his lifeless form to her breast. No one moved to intervene. No one dared pull him from her as the rain continued to fall, drenching everyone.

onfusion reigned in the hours following the death of Albert. Nate scooped up Hatshepsut’s Collar in a cloth, ensuring his skin never touched the cold metal. Generals looked for their orders, but the queen sat insensible in her grief. Someone fetched an umbrella to keep the worst of the rain from soaking her shaking form. Eventually someone fetched her ladies, who pried her hands from Albert’s cold body. Men wrapped the prince in a blanket and carried him inside the chapel as the rain continued to pound the city.

Sir John dismissed the assembled soldiers and told them to go home. It took two days to unload the troops already in the transporters. Two others were at sea and ordered to turn around and return to England. The people breathed a sigh of relief and dispersed, clutching their loved ones.

Winter descended early, hard on the heels of the unnatural rain, mimicking the cold atmosphere blanketing the country. The nation mourned the queen’s consort, believing he succumbed to a sudden illness. Only those who stood on the green that night knew the truth and only a few understood what actually happened.

Victoria took to her bed, overwhelmed by her grief. The Prime Minister continued the daily running of the country, allaying the fears of China and Russia and reassuring their treaty partners that England had no plans to invade her allies.

Days passed into weeks and the queen remained hidden behind black drapes. Nolton languished in the same Tower cell once occupied by Nate. Snow claimed London earlier than ever recorded and Cara wondered how the duke faired in the frigid cell.

The doors opened and the secretary looked up with a start. “Your Majesty.” He pushed his chair back and hurried to his feet to give a bow to his monarch.

Dressed head to toe in black, her blue gaze lighted on him. “Send for Sir John Fox.”

“Yes, ma’am. At once.”

The queen passed into her office and awaited the Constable of the Tower and his phonographic recording.

Nate pulled at his cravat, the fabric feeling tighter than usual, or it could be the sight of the noose swinging in the slight breeze constricting his breathing. The rain stopped, but the clouds lingered, sunlight filtering down to the green through a thick shroud. Only a few other men gathered to bear witness, loosely ranged around the wooden scaffolding, no one wanting to appear too eager by standing close.