Jane
“The key to changing to your animal form,” Gran said, “is to know your heart’s desire.”
Right, Jane thought. My heart’s desire.
It was late afternoon, and Jane, Edward, and Gifford were standing just off the worn path that ran around the ruins. The keep lifted high above them, blocking the worst of the sun’s glare and casting heavy shadows over the piles of fallen stone and the thick green grass. Gran stood opposite them, while Gracie circled the group with a stern expression on her face, her arms crossed over her chest.
Jane had a headache.
“Be honest with yourself,” continued Gran. “If, in the moment you want to change, you do not know why you want to become a bird or ferret or horse—”
Gifford snorted. He was a horse already.
“—or human, then you will stay exactly as you are.”
“What about curses?” Jane asked.
“What about curses?” A pungent, garbage odor slipped into the air, making Jane cough at the sour taste in the back of her throat. Gran had never been very patient, and the more annoyed she became, the worse she smelled.
“How are we supposed to control our changes if we’re cursed?”
“What makes you think you’re cursed?”
“Gifford spends his days as a horse and his nights as a man. Every day, without fail, he changes.” Jane used to blame him for his struggles. She’d thought of him as undisciplined. Now she had a bit more sympathy. “And, for the time being, anyway, I spend my nights as a ferret.”
At least she had every night since the Tower. The sun went down, and flash—Jane was a ferret, whether she wanted to change or not. It was a problem. The first step, she thought, was admitting it.
“That’s why we’re here.” Gran’s odor grew stronger. “Because you lot need to learn to control yourselves.”
“Isn’t the point of a curse that it can’t be controlled?” Jane gestured toward Gifford, who’d bent his head to nip at the grass. “We need to break the curses first, and then learn how to control the change.”
“That sounds reasonable,” Edward said. “Good thinking, Janey.”
“That sounds stupid, if you ask me,” Gracie said, staring flatly at Jane. “You’re not cursed. You’re just stubborn.”
“Gracie’s right.” Gran let out an aggravated sigh. “You’re not cursed. There’s something in you making you want to change when you do.”
“Well, changing because of the position of the sun definitely sounds like a curse to me,” Jane argued.
“Me too.” Edward frowned. “I think it’s likely that Gifford was cursed, and Jane, you got this curse because you married him. Which means this is partially my fault. I’m so sorry.”
Jane touched Edward’s arm, consolingly. “It’s not your fault.”
Gifford gave another loud snort, and something large and ploppy dropped from his hindquarters. He never had the best manners in his horse form.
Jane smoothed down the edges of her borrowed dress. The cut and colors were decades out of fashion, but that sort of thing had never bothered her. She was just grateful to have something more dignified than trousers. Then again, Gracie had made trousers look like the most fashionable things a woman had ever worn. Edward certainly seemed to appreciate the view, from the way he kept gazing at her with his mouth open.
She was almost embarrassed for him. Really.
“You both must have a reason to change with the sun,” Gracie said.
“That’s right,” Gran agreed. “It’s a matter of the heart, like I was saying. When you truly want to control your forms, you will.”
This was all feeling very judgmental to Jane. “How can you say that? No one wants to control their change more than I!”
Gran clucked disapprovingly. “Tell me about when you first changed.”
“It was in my time of great emotional need,” Jane said with a lift of her chin. “Just like in the stories. I wanted to avoid getting my head chopped off. And I wanted to save Gifford from being burned at the stake. So I became a ferret and rescued him.”
“A very noble first change.” Edward smiled her way. “And mine, of course, was wanting to avoid being murdered in my bed. I needed to escape, so I did.”
Gran glanced at Gifford as though she expected him to tell the story of his first change, but he just blew out a breath and gazed toward the field surrounding the old castle, like there were places he’d rather be.
“What about your first change, Gran?” Jane asked.
“One of my maids forgot the fruit with my breakfast. I became a skunk and sprayed her.”
Gracie laughed. “That isn’t true, is it?”
Gran lifted an eyebrow. “Are you calling me a liar?”
“I’m calling you a storyteller.”
“Fine. The gardener killed a rosebush and I found myself agitated.”
“Gran!” Edward said. “Tell us the truth.”
“Ah, the truth is a slippery thing,” Gran said, but then she sighed. “Very well. One of my ladies-in-waiting spent the night with my husband.” She waited a beat to make sure they understood what that meant. “I didn’t find out until court, and there in front of everyone, I transformed into a skunk and sprayed in every direction. I was aiming for my cheating husband, you see, and my traitorous lady. But skunks have poor vision, so I had to guess. I guessed incorrectly a few times.”
Jane choked back a laugh. It was an amusing idea, but that had been a time when being an E∂ian was punishable by death.
That was the time Mary wanted to resurrect. Which was a sobering thought.
“It took me some time to control it, too, at first, if you want to know,” Gran admitted gruffly. “I don’t think I understood my heart’s desire back then. I was ruled by baser things.”
Jane gazed down at her feet for a minute. Was she not being honest with herself? What did her heart want?
“All right,” Edward said. “I’m ready to try.”
“Good.” Gran gave two sharp claps. “No more talk of curses.”
“Close your eyes,” Gracie advised. “Sometimes that helps. Think of what you like about your other form. Think about what you want to do in that form.”
Jane had always been a fantastic student. She immediately closed her eyes and recalled what it was like being a ferret. She’d loved being so useful. The way she could hear and smell everything. And she was quite portable, easily draped over Gifford’s shoulder. There wasn’t a better creature to be.
“I want to be a ferret,” she whispered. “I want to be a ferret.”
“Silently, Jane.” Edward sounded vaguely annoyed. “You’re not the only one trying to concentrate.”
She glanced over at her cousin. He was still too thin, too pale with his recent illness—poisoning, she reminded herself—but he did look better. Stronger. Very much alive.
As she watched, the tension around his shoulders eased. His eyes were closed, and he was smiling as if he were picturing something wonderful.
“Sky,” he murmured.
His light flashed so bright that Jane had to squeeze her eyes shut. She heard the flap of wings. Feathers rustling. When she looked up again, Edward was in the air.
She put her hands on her hips. “How did he do that?”
“Just how we said.” Gracie looked from Jane to Gifford, who was still eating grass. “He wanted to become a kestrel enough. It was his heart’s desire.”
Jane was pretty sure that her heart’s desire was to be a ferret, but here she was. Two legs. Upright. Not enough fur. Eyes decidedly not beady.
She poked Gifford. “What about you? Did you even try?”
He lifted his head and angled for ear scratches.
“Unbelievable!” She stepped back and folded her arms. “Don’t you want to be a man during the day? If it’s all about desire, why do you not desire to be a man?”
He ignored her and wandered away, seemingly satisfied to be a horse.
Meanwhile, Edward was soaring and diving with abandon back and forth above them, and soon he gave a great hawk-like cry, and vanished over the trees.
“I’d better go after him,” Gracie said. “Looks like he’s caught up in that bird joy again.” Then right there in front of Jane, Gran, and Gifford—who was aiming for a field to run in, not even noticing the ladies anymore—Gracie shimmied out of her trousers and turned into a fox so quickly Jane didn’t have time to protest.
Jane turned to Gran. “Now what?” Edward was a bird and loved it too much. Gifford was a horse and wouldn’t try to fix it. Gracie and Gran could change at will and didn’t see why Jane couldn’t.
Jane didn’t see why she couldn’t change, either.
“Now you try again,” Gran said. “Or I’ll turn into a skunk and spray you.”
She closed her eyes. She imagined herself being a ferret. She put her whole heart into it.
“You’re just making your nose twitch,” Gran said.
“Shh.” Jane pictured being ferret-like.
“Now you’re just crouching.”
Jane sighed, frustrated.
“Did you just meow?” Gran said.
Jane made fists and stomped her feet. She wanted to scream, but she refrained from saying anything except an earnest whisper. “I desperately, desperately want to be a ferret right now.”
But every time she checked, she was still a girl.
Jane was still a ferret when she awakened the following morning.
Because she had turned into a ferret . . . eventually. When the sun fell below the horizon. Just like before.
Gran and Gracie could ignore the evidence all they wanted, but Jane knew better. A curse was a curse.
She was curled up on the pillow next to Gifford’s head. He was snoring a little, so quietly it would have been nothing to her human ears, but her ferret ears were much better and he sounded like a thunderstorm. With a mind to make him stop, she stretched and bumped her nose against his eyelid.
He groaned and waved her away.
She bumped his eyelid again.
“That’s cold,” he grumbled.
She nipped his nose lightly.
He sat up with a start, definitely awake now. “My lady! If you wanted to wake me, you’ve succeeded. But you don’t have to take off my nose.” He was grinning, though.
Jane made a low chuckling noise and danced across the bed, the mattress giving an extra spring to her jumping.
“Most undignified, my darling. But quite charming.” Gifford laughed and excused himself from the room. “I’ll return once you’ve changed.”
A few minutes later she became a girl again. Just like that: the sun was coming up, and she changed without even trying. It was mystifying that she was still, after all this time, completely unable to control her E∂ian self.
She’d only just managed to get all the pieces of her secondhand dress in their proper places when Gifford knocked and came back into the chamber.
“Need help with the laces?” he asked.
“Yes. Thank you.” She turned so he could access the ribbons along the back of her gown.
He swept her tumble of red hair over her shoulder, his hand lingering there for a moment before he saw to the fastening of her gown. “Anything for my wife.”
She was coming to like that word—wife. Especially the way he said it.
“So what’s the plan for today?” he asked as he fastened a hook at the top of the gown, his fingers brushing the skin between her shoulder blades. Jane shivered. “Are we storming any castles?”
“No, but we’re starting our long journey to France tomorrow. So we need to pack.”
“I wasn’t aware that we had any possessions that would need packing.” He pulled the laces tight, but not too tight. She appreciated that.
“Bess is arranging for a finer gown for me to wear,” Jane explained. “For the French court. Edward says he wants me with him when he makes his appeal to the king.”
Gifford cleared his throat. “Ah. I see. Edward wants you with him.” He finished with her dress quickly and stepped back. “There.”
“It makes sense that I should be there, in case I’m needed to validate Edward’s story.”
“Yes, of course,” he said stiffly. His expression was suddenly blank. “The sun’s almost up. I should go.”
She followed him as he made his way outside. “Wait, G—”
“Have a good day, my lady,” he said, and jogged off, pulling at his clothes.
“Have a good day,” she called after him lamely.
Then he was a horse. She watched him trot through the gardens and jump a low section of the crumbling wall.
She sighed.
Gifford had been acting strangely since they’d escaped London. For the most part, he was warm and affectionate with her. He teased her, but never with an intent to hurt her feelings. He often held her hand. He called her pet names, like “my darling” and “my sweet.” Those things shouldn’t have had such an effect on her, but they did. Being with him made her breath come quicker and her heart pound and her palms get all clammy. It made her wish she could remain human all the time so that they could stay together.
But then there were other times, especially when they were around Edward and Bess and Gran, when Gifford retreated behind a wall of silence, his jaw set in a way she recognized as anger. She wondered if he blamed her for all that had happened.
They had no home now, no safe place to go except for this broken-down abbey. No title or position. No possessions, as he’d pointed out.
That was hardly her fault, but still. She’d been awful to him in London. They’d had an actual fight. She’d thrown pillows at his head.
No wonder he hadn’t even been trying during their training session with Gran and Gracie. He was probably happy to avoid her company.
Jane watched him canter across the field, his head high, mane streaming. He seemed so content as a horse. And it wasn’t as though she’d given him much of a reason to try to be a man.
Her chin lifted. They had so little time together now—just a few minutes at the start and end of every day. She’d have to use those precious minutes wisely.
She’d have to try harder to win back his trust.
When she came into the kitchen later, Gracie, Bess, and Edward were discussing the best routes to take to France.
Bess unfolded a map and spread it across the table. “If we want to move quickly—”
“And we do,” said Edward.
“—then we need to take the most direct route with the best roads,” Bess finished.
Jane stood on tiptoe to peek around Edward’s shoulder. “Let’s do that.”
“But there are a few problems with this route,” Gracie said. “Mary’s men will be looking for all of you, and this road”—she dragged her finger over a line—“takes us dangerously close to the Shaggy Dog.”
“The Shaggy Dog?” repeated Jane.
“From the description that Gifford gave us,” Edward said, “that’s the tavern you were attacked in. The headquarters of the Pack.”
Jane shivered. “What are our other options?”
“Longer paths on poorer roads.” Edward pointed out a few. They did look rather out of the way.
“So what will we do?” Jane asked.
“I . . .” Edward drummed his fingers on the map. “Speed is of the essence. But so is safety. What do the rest of you think?”
“Long way,” Gracie replied immediately. “The Pack is bad news.”
“Short way,” Bess said. “We’re taking back a kingdom. We should be bold. And swift.”
Everyone looked at Jane, who consoled herself with the reminder that, though she was a tiebreaker, this would still be Edward’s decision. He was the king. “Short way,” she said. “I agree with Bess.”
Gracie glared. Edward looked uncomfortable. Bess gave a faint smile.
“Furthermore,” Jane said, “I think we should recruit the Pack to our side.”
“Are you daft?” cried Gracie. “They almost killed you.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“They’re not just some random bandits, you know,” Gracie said. “They’re a well-run organization. And they see themselves as superior to humans. They certainly don’t answer to any king. They’ll use your pretty feathers to stuff their pillows, Sire.”
“Right. Recruiting the Pack sounds like a terrible idea,” agreed Edward.
“But we need anyone who isn’t already on Mary’s side,” Jane argued. “We could use all the help we can get.”
“Not their kind of help!” Gracie shook her head. “Tell her, Edward.”
“What do you think, sister?” Edward turned to Bess, who looked thoughtful.
“I have my army, of course, and France will hopefully agree to loan us some of theirs once you ask King Henry. But that still might not be enough men to take back your crown.” Bess tapped the place on the map where the Shaggy Dog was located. “Besides, I’ve been thinking that perhaps it’s not enough to simply take back your crown.”
Edward stared at her. “What do you mean?”
“This country is divided. E∂ians and Verities are at each other’s throats. The people are caught in the middle, and they are suffering for it. It’s one thing to win back your crown, Edward. It’s quite another to win back your country. Your people. You will need both sides to do that. Verities and E∂ians. You must unite them. And to do that, you’ll need the Pack.”
“You’re right,” Edward said.
“You’re crazy, is what you are.” Gracie’s green eyes were filled with worry—though that worry was masked with a practiced expression of annoyance. “If you go to the Pack, you’ll die.” She turned to Jane. “I don’t want to hear a rumor about Thomas Archer wearing a ferret stole come this winter.”
Jane shivered. She didn’t want to be a ferret stole, either. She remembered the danger of the Pack well enough. The gash in her side was still stitched and healing. And she remembered the villagers and their poor cow.
That was just the kind of thing that had to stop if things were going to get better for England. Which meant that Bess was right. I was right, Jane thought, silently congratulating herself for having the idea.
“Thank you very much for your concern,” she said to Gracie, “but I think we should go.”
“What do you mean ‘we’?” Edward turned to Jane, his eyebrows raised in alarm. “You’re staying here to recover from your injuries.”
“My injuries? I’m quite recovered now, really.” Mostly.
“Even so, you’re not going. The Pack is too dangerous.”
Gracie straightened. “That’s right, Your Majesty. The key word here is dangerous.”
“Why are you so afraid of them?” Edward turned on Gracie. “I’ve never known you to balk at danger before.”
“I am not afraid!” Gracie bristled. “I just don’t want to . . . see Archer again.”
“Why not?” Bess folded her hands in front of her.
“Because he’s my ex,” Gracie blurted out.
“Ex?” Jane had no idea what that meant.
Bess leaned toward Jane, keeping her voice low. “Former paramour.”
“Oh!” Jane nodded, finally understanding. “They had a romantic relationship.”
“What?” Edward’s face turned bright red as he looked at Gracie. “You had a relationship with him? Archer?”
“My affairs are my own business, Sire.” Gracie tugged a hand through her mess of black curls. “But it does mean I know far more about the Pack than any of you, so you’d best take my advice. Stay away from them. They’re trouble. Especially Archer.”
“Especially.” Edward frowned and turned back to Jane. “All right. I’ve made my decision. I’m going to recruit the Pack. But you’re staying here. So are Bess and Gracie.”
Bess lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not staying here.”
“If you’re going to insist on this fool’s errand of yours, I should go with you, too.” Gracie stalked forward, her hands in fists at her sides. “Archer won’t be reasonable. It’s not in his nature to do anything unless it directly benefits himself. But perhaps I can keep you from getting yourselves killed.”
“No,” Edward protested. “You’re staying here, too. To—uh—guard Jane.”
The Scot’s green eyes shot daggers at Edward. Jane almost felt bad for her cousin. “Oh, and I suppose you’ll let Gifford go with you?” Gracie huffed.
“He’s a strong young man—”
“He’s a horse!” Jane and Gracie yelled at exactly the same time. They paused, glanced at each other, and Jane understood immediately that they were now on the same side. “Allow us to tell you exactly why we’re going with you.” With a quick nod, she indicated Gracie go first.
“I know the Pack, for one. I know their tricks and hideouts. And furthermore, when you lot get hungry and start looking for bugs to eat, I’ll be the one to find something you’ll actually want to eat. Not to mention I’m quick with weapons and the king needs all the protecting he can get.”
“Now stop right there—”
But Jane was ready now. “To complement Gracie’s considerable skills with violence and illegal activities, I have read at least twice as many books as you, Edward. Likely three or four times, which means I’m quite knowledgeable on an assortment of subjects that might come in handy.”
“Just because we’re girls doesn’t mean you have to coddle us,” Gracie said. “The truth is, you need us. You need me, especially, if you want to face the Pack.”
“It’s not because you’re girls.” Edward’s face was red again. “All right, fine. I suppose you’d just follow us anyway and then we’d have to rescue you in addition to everything else that awaits us. I guess you can come.”
“Fine,” said Gracie. “Then it’s settled.”
But Jane had a feeling that it was still anything but.
The group’s mood was somber as they approached the Shaggy Dog—Gracie had told them over and over that this was a bad idea. That it wasn’t going to work. That they were all going to die and become pillows and stoles.
“Well,” Bess said as they were finally making their way down the main street of the village toward the tavern. “If anyone’s inclined toward prayer, now might be the time.”
“Yes. Last chance to call it off,” Gracie said.
“You can still wait with the horses,” Edward said. “I can do this on my own.”
“Shut up, bird boy.”
There were five horses with them—four normal and one very special, in Jane’s opinion—and they tied the four real horses to a post. Then they were standing at the tavern steps. The sign over the door squeaked on its post—the image of a dog with vague scratches in the paint to signal shagginess. It looked different in the daylight. And smaller, now that she wasn’t a tiny ferret with blurry vision.
Still, Jane shivered. This was where she’d almost died just days ago.
Edward said, “Gifford—”
The fifth horse snorted.
“Call him G,” Jane translated.
“G, watch our mounts.”
Gracie began changing the knots on the horses’ leads. “This is a better knot for our situation. If we run out screaming, we—or G—can just pull the ends of these and flee.”
The whites around Gifford’s eyes shone.
“I agree,” Jane said to him, and turned to Gracie. “Do you think fleeing will be necessary?”
Gracie nodded toward a corner on the far side of the street where a man disappeared behind a butcher shop. Then to the rooftop of an apothecary. The streets were eerily empty for this time of day. “They know we’re here. Maybe they haven’t done anything yet, but they know.”
Jane petted Gifford’s soft cheek. He blew out a breath and dropped his chin on her shoulder, pulling her into what might have been a horse version of a hug. She put her arms around his neck for a moment and breathed in the warm scent of his fur.
“I’ll be fine,” she whispered by his ear. “They won’t recognize me. But if anything bad happens, you have my permission to kick down the door.” She rubbed his forehead before hurrying after the others into the tavern.
“I’m here to speak with Thomas Archer,” Edward called as the door swung shut behind them.
There were seven people in the taproom—five drinking at tables, one working at the bar, and one in deep conversation with the bartender—and all of them stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at Edward.
“Who are you?” asked the bartender.
“I’m the King of England,” Edward announced. “And I want to speak to Thomas Archer.”
One of the drinkers laughed. “The king is dead. So is the new queen. The new new queen sits on the throne now. Mary.”
“She is not the rightful queen,” Jane objected.
Bess bumped Jane’s arm in warning. Then, subtly, she nodded toward Gracie, whose gaze was fixed on the man sitting at the bar. The Scot’s hands were clenched into fists at her sides.
No question about it: that man was Archer.
His back was turned to them, but there was enough to reveal him as a young man. His form was slender and straight. Strands of black hair curled over his collar.
“He is the king,” Gracie said to him alone. “He’s telling the truth.”
Slowly, the young man at the bar turned around. He had a striking face, with sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw. He looked Gracie up and down. “So, the little fox returns. With a king, no less. You’re looking fine, Gracie. Did you miss me?”
“Not even a little.”
“Aw, now.” Archer grinned and pressed a hand to his chest. “You wound me, lass. Do it again.”
Edward reddened and strode up to the bar, pulling out a handful of coins, which he slapped down in front of Archer. “Ten sovereigns. To pay off the bounty on her head.”
Archer looked from Edward to the coins, and back. “Bounty? Is that what she told you?”
Edward pushed the coins toward Archer. “And now with that matter out of the way, I wish to recruit you to my cause.”
Archer remained sitting. “And what cause is that?”
“I want to get my kingdom back.”
Another drinker laughed. “Mary has an army, from what I hear. You have a fox, a grand lady”— he nodded respectfully at Bess—“and a redhead.”
“Hey, Jane’s hair isn’t that bad.” Edward ceased the truly inspiring defense of her hair and composed himself. “What I mean to say is, I intend to take back the throne, and as citizens of England, the Pack should be with me.”
Archer scoffed. “What has England done for us?”
“You’re E∂ians,” Edward said.
“Guilty as charged. But I don’t see why that means we need to side with you, boy king.”
“Mary is Verity, through and through. Even now she is hunting down E∂ians with the intent of purging them from England.”
“I know,” said Archer grimly. “Haven’t you heard that the royal servants have already been interrogated, and anyone thought to be an E∂ian has been jailed? They’ll be burned in less than a fortnight, I hear.” He took a deep drink from his mug of ale. “But we E∂ians have survived hundreds of years of persecution. What does it matter to us if the reigning monarch is E∂ian or Verity?”
Bess stepped forward. Everyone looked to her—there was just something about Bess that commanded a room. “Freedom,” she said to answer his question. “Real freedom, Mister Archer. You’ll be equals to Verities. No longer persecuted.”
“Begging your pardon, my lady, but King Henry made the same promise when he transformed into a lion, and that didn’t change much for us.” Archer shook his head. “Be king or don’t. It doesn’t matter to me.”
This wasn’t going well.
“But I am your king!” Edward said. He was saying that a lot lately. Too much.
“Nope,” said Archer. “But if you leave now, I might let you walk out of here with your lives. Because I’m feeling generous today.”
Like we mentioned earlier, there were seven people in the tavern, and now six of them had some sort of weapon drawn.
The members of Edward’s party exchanged anxious glances. Well, they’d tried and failed. Gracie had been right: there was no reasoning with Archer. Perhaps they’d just have to consider it a victory if they got out of there alive.
Edward sighed. “All right. Come on.”
He turned to go.
Jane stepped forward. “Wait. You’ll join us,” she said to Archer. “And it will be for one very simple reason.”
Everyone was looking at her now.
“Times are hard.” Jane hid her trembling hands behind her back and moved to stand before Archer. “You’re a powerful band, but that doesn’t make you immune to the world’s problems. The Pack is being hunted. You say you’re not concerned about the mass burnings Mary has scheduled for the E∂ians, but I heard your voice catch when you talked about it. Likely some of those palace servants work for you, and you know there’s nothing that you can do to help them. But Edward could help them. He could stop the huntings. The burnings. The endless circle of killing and being killed. If you align yourself with the king, it will benefit the entire Pack. Are you so full of pride that you don’t see that?”
Archer lifted an eyebrow in Edward’s direction, and Edward took the opportunity to puff out his chest. “If I regain my throne, the Pack will be pardoned, on the condition all illegal activities cease. And I will make this country safe for E∂ians. I swear it on my life.”
“Right. But why do you care so much about E∂ians?” Archer challenged.
“Because he is an E∂ian,” Jane said.
Archer’s gaze swung appraisingly to Edward. “You? You’re an E∂ian?”
“Yes.” Edward met the Pack leader’s stare. “I am.”
“What creature?”
Edward looked down at his hands. “A type of bird. Like a falcon.”
The side of Archer’s mouth curled up. “Interesting.”
“We do not make these promises lightly, Mister Archer,” Bess cut in, before the man could ask them to prove their E∂ian status and they’d all have to get naked. “A pardon, food, medical supplies, coin, whatever you need: all will be made available to you.”
Archer’s eyes flashed greedily. They’d done it, Jane thought. He would agree to fight alongside them.
“No, I don’t think so,” he said after a long moment. “I just don’t believe you’re the kind of king I want to fight for.”
Edward was flabbergasted. “Why?”
“Let’s be honest.” Archer leaned back in his chair. “The kingdom wasn’t in the greatest shape before you allegedly died. Verities still hunted E∂ians. The authorities were corrupt. Even a shilling isn’t worth what it used to be. You never did anything to help us then. You may be an E∂ian, and you act like you’re the one in charge, but your ladies have been the ones making all the compelling arguments.” Archer gestured at the others in the tavern. “We have a decent life here. None of us want to risk our skins for someone who hasn’t proven he’s worth the effort.”
Edward took a deep breath. “How would you have me prove my worth?”
“There’s something I want,” Archer said, and Jane suspected he’d had this in mind all along, maybe even before they’d made their initial plea. “If you can deliver this item, I will join you.”
“What is it?” Bess asked.
Archer looked at Gracie. “I want Gracie to return the item she stole from me.”
After a moment of surprise, Jane and Edward both turned to Gracie.
“Well?” said Jane.
“Go jump in a river,” Gracie said to Archer. “You’re not getting it.”
“It belongs to the leader of the Pack,” he argued.
“It was Ben’s, and he’d have wanted me to have it.”
“Er, Gracie, the fate of the kingdom is at stake,” Edward murmured, but she ignored him.
“I offered you ten sovereigns for it,” Archer said. “You could buy a hundred knives with that.”
“A knife?” Edward gaped at Gracie. “The bounty was over a knife?”
“My knife.” Gracie’s hand went to the pearl-handled knife strapped to her hip. “I can’t give it up. I won’t.”
Jane thought all this fuss over a knife was a bit excessive, even if it was an attractive weapon, to be sure. But then Edward sighed and touched Gracie’s shoulder. “All right.” He turned to Archer. “There must be something else I can give you.”
Archer’s eyes went back and forth from Edward to Gracie, stopping at where Edward’s hand rested on the girl’s shoulder. He scowled. “I want the knife. There is nothing else I desire.”
“The knife is not mine to give. It’s Gracie’s,” Edward said. “But there must be something else. A task, perhaps. Something I could do for you.”
There was a heavy silence throughout the room. Finally, Archer laughed and said, “All right, then. Kill the Great White Bear of Rhyl.”
Jane scoffed. “That’s an absurd demand. The Great White Bear is a myth. I’ve read every book on the subject, and all the experts agree that the beast is nothing more than a fiction.” Legend had it that the Great White Bear was tall as the Cliffs of Dover. As wide as the English Channel. Mothers and fathers often told their children the Bear would come after them if they didn’t go to bed on time or do their chores, but that was all. An old wives’ tale. A fable.
“Oh, the bear is real, all right.” One of the men at a table pointed to a set of long scars that ran down the side of his face. Claw marks. “It doesn’t live but a few miles from here. It attacks this village regularly. Steals food. Plunders far more than the Pack does.”
Archer gave a rueful grin. “That’s my condition. Kill the bear. Take it or leave it.”
“Excuse us for a moment.” Edward gestured for Bess, Gracie, and Jane to join him in the corner. They huddled together and spoke in low voices. “What do you think?”
“The GWBR?” Jane shook her head. “I don’t believe it exists.”
“Or it does exist, and Archer’s just trying to get me killed for his own amusement,” Edward said grimly.
“Either way, it’s a diversion.” Bess frowned. “We have France to see to. A country to regain. We don’t have time for a goose chase—or a bear hunt.”
Edward nodded. “I know. But if it’s the only way to get the Pack on our side . . .”
“What about the knife?” Jane snapped. “Let’s just give him the stupid knife.”
Grace straightened. “My knife is not stupid. It’s the only thing I have left of Ben. Archer only wants it because he knows that.”
“You’re not giving him the knife.” Edward reassured Gracie. Of course. He liked her. He was showing off. And Archer was competition. But this was not the time to go around proving his dominance.
“The question remains.” Bess kept her eyes on her brother. “Do we do it?”
“You said before—we probably don’t have enough men to take on Mary’s army,” Edward’s jaw tightened. “We need them. Whatever it takes.”
He stepped out of the huddle and faced Archer once more. “Very well. I’ll do it.”
Archer glanced from Gracie to Jane to Bess to Edward, and at last gave a slow, easy nod. “Fine. We have a deal.” He slammed a fist down on the bar. “Time to celebrate!”
While the others passed drinks all around, Jane went outside to move the horses into the stable, and to tell Gifford the news.
They were going to fight a mythic bear.