Millicent suppressed a grin of triumph. Claire had quickly gone from concluding Millicent insane to considering the possibility of presenting the story to the master. “I can help on both accounts.”

Lady Yardley paused, her gown twirling about her, a few auburn curls dangling from her coiffure tumbling about her aristocratic cheeks. Even in her agitation, she looked every inch the lady. She found Millicent’s story difficult to believe, because the concept of such evil was foreign to her. The lady radiated a goodness Millicent could never hope to achieve.

Millicent opened her reticule and pulled out the relic. The smile faded from her face as the moonstone within the bracelet caught the sunlight streaming in through the windows and reflected it within the gem, making it swirl and glow and change color. Just as Gareth’s eyes and hair had a tendency to change color in different light.

“If you bring the master this, I believe he will grant you an audience. For weeks, he has been pestering me with his spies to obtain it.”

Claire covered her mouth with her slender hand. “Oh, no. I do not want it. Give it back to Lady Chatterly.”

“It is not hers,” snapped Millicent. “He—it belongs to no one. Not yet.” She gulped a breath. She did not think this would be so difficult. But something inside her chest ached so hard she could barely think. “If anyone could break his curse, Lady Yardley, it would be you. You are goodness and light and elegance. And he must be given the chance to be free. You cannot imagine what it is like to be trapped in a cage not of your own making.”

Claire slowly reached out a hand, as if she could not resist such temptation. “Is it true he makes your every fantasy come true?”

Millicent closed her eyes for a brief moment. “Yes. That, and more. When he comes to you at midnight, he will confirm everything I have said to you. And then… after…” Her voice broke. She could not stop the low growl of her beast that followed. Panthers mated for life. She could not hand over their soul mate to another woman. She could not… “You and Gareth can go to the master, and then he will believe you. And then Ghoulston will get the punishment he deserves.”

Claire stepped forward, her eyes on the bracelet as if entranced, and Millicent had to force herself to hold it out to her. The gem winked and swirled with milky color as Claire slid it on her arm. She held it there for a moment, but it did not tighten.

Millicent’s heart soared, and she fought against the rush of feeling. She thought Claire would surely be the one to break the enchantment… and had hoped she wasn’t. She must stop these conflicting thoughts. If the relic did not choose someone, Gareth would be trapped forever.

“It does not want me,” said Claire.

Millicent tried to keep calm and self-assured. “Then you must give it to another woman after you have convinced Lord Sussex of Ghoulston’s evil plan. When Sir Gareth appears, you can explain to him what I have done. You can tell him the relic must be given a chance to choose another…” But she could not manage it. Her voice broke and she could not utter another foul word.

“Millicent?”

Millicent stood, nearly knocking over the tea tray. “Tell him… tell him I am sorry.” And she fled the room. Her eyes stayed dry—she had resolved never to cry again—but a sort of haze blinded her as she ran through the hall and out the door. The white peacocks that stood sentinel on the portico screeched out their staccato cries behind her as she ran for the carriage, and another flash of tiny wings blurred somewhere off to her left. Millicent did not wait for the coachman to lower the steps. She flung open the door and leaped into the shelter of the dim interior.

The carriage lurched forward; Millicent collapsed against the cushions. She stared blindly at a tear in the upholstery of the seat opposite her. She had done it. She had set Gareth free, or at least, on a path where he could seek his freedom again. She felt happy for him, somewhere deep inside, but her misery at never seeing him again overshadowed it for the moment.

But she had done the right thing. And the Duke of Ghoulston would pay for his crimes. And Millicent would return to the Underground, among the forgotten, where she belonged.

If she had not been so sunk in misery, she might have realized sooner that the path they took back to Lady Roseus’s town home differed greatly from the one they had taken earlier, and perhaps the lady’s frantic waving as she’d departed meant something more. She would have been alert when the coach slowed down in a deserted mew.

But the spies had learned from past experience. They did not give her time to react. The coach door flew open, the chap with the scar and mane of golden hair covered her mouth with a cloth… and Millicent took a breath before thinking to shift.

The world faded to a fuzzy black.

Fifteen

Gareth materialized in a room lit with candlelight, and decorated with so many feathers he resisted the impulse to sneeze. He blinked, taking a moment to gather his wits about him, remembering his lady had just made passionate love to him before the relic had sucked him back in.

Why then, did he face a reddish-haired woman in a strange room?

“Who are you?”

She sat in a prim chair, in a prim gown buttoned up to her neck, and twisted her fingers in her lap. “Lady Claire Yardley.”

The name sounded familiar… “Millicent’s friend?”

“Yes.”

Gareth spied the wink of moonstone and strode forward, grabbing the woman’s upper arm. “Where did you get this?”

“I… unhand me, sir. I did not steal it, if that’s what you are thinking. Millicent gave it to me.”

“Gave it…?” He staggered back a step. No, she would not do such a thing. She had promised… “When? Why?”

“This afternoon. She told me an improbable tale about a dear friend of mine. She said you would confirm the story.”

Gareth collapsed on the edge of a bed covered with a downy blanket, absently noting it puffed around him when he sat. Surely Millicent could have come up with another way to convince Lady Yardley? If she had wanted to… but perhaps she did not want to. Perhaps this gave her the excuse to rid herself of him.

She had promised to keep the relic forever.

To keep him forever.

The prim lady leaned forward, her expensive skirts rustling softly with the movement. “Millicent told me to bring the bracelet to the Master of the Hall of Mages, and that you would convince him of Ghoulston’s wickedness. She also said she is sorry, but the relic must be given the chance to choose another woman…” She blushed. “She thought I would be perfect for you.”

“Indeed?” He had not intended to growl the word.

“I told her you—it did not want me.” She slid the bracelet down her arm, where it dangled on her wrist. “See, it is quite loose. I can give it to you, if you’d like.”

Gareth shook his head. “I would just have to give it to another. If Millicent no longer wants…” Had his voice just cracked, like some broken-hearted schoolboy? Did his chest truly ache, as if Millicent had taken his own sword and stabbed him in the heart? He had thought… after everything they had been through together… after making love to him the way she had…

He had thought she loved him enough to be faithful to him forever. That he had broken down that wall around her heart, at least enough for her to consider them as one, united in purpose and deed and love.

But her need for revenge had outweighed her need for him. He understood it, because he understood Millicent. But that did not erase the feeling of betrayal that shook him.

For a moment his vision wavered, the walls of the room expanding and contracting, and he could not breathe. He crushed the bed coverings as he curled his fingers into fists, trying to keep an anchor in a world gone suddenly insubstantial. Gareth felt scattered, as he sometimes did when he first appeared from the relic. He heard a loud crack, which pounded at his ears, as if he heard his own heart break. And then the world righted, he drew in a long breath, and he could think again.

Millicent had forsaken him.

Is this how Merlin had felt, when Vivian had broken trust with him? No wonder the great wizard had called his magic down upon Gareth. He would do the same… but he had no one to curse but himself. After centuries of searching for true love, he now regretted that he’d ever found it. He did not know it would hurt so much.

“Sir Gareth. Are you well? Can I get you a spot of tea?”

“Can tea fix a broken heart?” he muttered.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing.” Gareth looked up at the woman. She looked… like a well-bred lady. Her eyes shone with the innocence of a woman who had led a sheltered life, attending balls and fetes, surrounded by gentlemen of only the highest pedigree. He doubted if she had ever been treated with anything but absolute respect. She commanded it with every line in her correct posture. He understood why it would be difficult for Lady Yardley to believe Millicent’s story about the machinations of the Duke of Ghoulston. Such evil would be inconceivable to her.

He understood why Millicent had chosen this lady for him, damn her. Lady Yardley was the opposite of the shape-shifter. Goodness oozed from her very pores.

And he had no desire for the woman whatsoever.

Gareth leaned forward, determined to focus his thoughts elsewhere. “Millicent’s tale is true, I assure you. The tea you gave the queen is laden with my blood. The blood of a man who has spent centuries seducing women.”