“Nell?”
“Yes, luv.”
“Do you think I won’t be able to shift when I get as old as you?”
Nell looked up at her with a grimace. “Despite the red still in my hair, I’m very, very old, Mill.” The trees swayed and the fans swished above them. She sighed. “I’m not sure.”
Millicent nodded. “But it’s possible.”
“Oh, my gel, in my experience, anything is possible.”
Six
She was waiting for him when the relic spat him forth again. Gareth studied her with appreciation while he collected his wits, which always seemed a bit scattered when he materialized from a smoky haze to solid form. She’d discarded half her clothing and looked the cooler for it. Fashions had changed over the centuries, and although he admired the gowns that made women look like delicate flowers, they had to be uncomfortable to wear. And deuced difficult to get them out of.
“I want you to teach me how to fight.”
She shouldn’t be able to surprise him. He’d known thousands of women. But this one always managed to do so. “I am at your service, my lady. But it seems that your cat knows how to use her claws.”
She shook her head, tangles of midnight hair sweeping her shoulders. “No. I want you to teach my human form how to fight.”
Gareth started to shed his clothes. This place might be beautiful, but the heat and humidity reminded him of the jungles of Mogow. He remembered their conversation about Nell being unable to shift to firebird at will, and thought he knew why Millicent had made the request. His lady did not want to have to rely upon anyone’s protection.
Now, or in the future.
He allowed his admiration for her to show in his eyes as he removed the last of his upper clothing.
“We’ll start with staffs, then I might let you work with my sword.”
She nodded as if she understood the importance he placed on his weapon.
A cackle of laughter from the depths of the cave made him realize Nell had taken a double meaning from his words. He turned and bowed to the old woman, strode over to the pallet of brush she lay upon, and took her hand. “How do you fare, my ladybird?”
“Ladybird—eh, ye’re a smooth one,” murmured Nell. “My poor gel has no chance against ye at all, does she?”
“It is my fervent desire that she does not.”
“Hmph.” She raised her voice. “Off with the two of ye, then. It’s not my idea of fun to watch two grown people whack each other senseless.”
The old woman confused him. She seemed to be sure of his failure, while at the same time aiding his cause. As if she could no more make up her mind to it than Millicent. He still felt in awe of the small woman, and the firebird she could become. He would have honored her wishes to stay away from Millicent if she had insisted.
But she did not.
Gareth bowed to her and took his leave, following the relic-holder from the cave, watching the sway of her hips with appreciation. Perhaps he might not have been able to stay away from his lady even if the firebird had insisted.
Millicent stopped at a smooth clearing of sand. He saw the strokes of a branch across the grains and realized she’d prepared this place in advance. Perhaps she was too keenly aware that he could deny her nothing.
She picked up two sturdy branches, and he recognized the spears he had made. Millicent tossed him one and held her own upright in front of her. Gareth shook his head.
“Hold it horizontal across your body, like so.” He stepped forward and took her hands, positioning the weapon correctly. It always shocked him when he touched her. A sort of shiver through his blood. “Staff work is different than real swordplay, but you must learn this first.”
She allowed him to touch her without pulling away. So, there would be an advantage to this after all. He’d never met a woman so unused to being touched, and his hopes soared that sparring with him would enable her to become accustomed to it.
If he managed to survive the day, that is. More concerned about harming her than protecting himself, she managed to bruise him more than once.
“You retain the speed and strength of your were-cat,” he panted after several hours of tutelage. “This gives you the advantage over me.”
“But not much,” said Millicent, scowling. “Not enough to beat you.” The thin skirt she wore stuck to her body with the sweat from their exertions, outlining the long length of her legs. When she turned to set down her spear, he swallowed at the sight she afforded him.
“You can’t expect to learn so much in a day, my lady. Remember, I’ve had centuries of experience.”
Millicent turned and collapsed on the sand, still breathing hard from their bout. She sat with her arms around her knees, staring off into the forest, her eyes following the movements of the multicolored mist that danced and wove through the trees.
Gareth sat beside her, shoulder to shoulder, pleased when she didn’t immediately pull away from him. The lady made such small allowances seem like a great gift. He flexed his arms, enjoying the loose feel of his muscles. It had been too long since he’d had a challenging fight. True battle left him angry and sad, but a session of strength and skill always relaxed his mind and body.
Millicent appeared to be feeling the same quiet contentment, for they sat a time in silence, listening to the soughing of the branches in the wind.
“How long do you plan on staying here?” asked Gareth, his voice low, hesitant to destroy the peaceful feeling between them.
She closed her eyes, tilting her head back to catch an errant breeze. “Long enough for Nell to recover her strength. Shape-shifters don’t take well to confinement.”
He admired the smooth curve of her throat, the outline of her full lips. “And then?”
“And then we travel deeper into the Underground until I find a way to get this relic off my wrist.”
Stubborn wench. He’d already told her there was only one way to remove it.
“There must be another way,” she continued as if she’d read his mind. “Tell me exactly how you got trapped in the stone.”
Gareth sighed. He would do anything to convince her he spoke the truth. “I seduced Merlin’s lover.”
Millicent huffed. “Why am I not surprised?”
“I was young and foolish,” replied Gareth defensively. “And I thought I was in love. Those are the only excuses I can offer, lady.” The colorful glow of the forest faded as his vision turned inward. He still remembered every detail of that day. The feel of triumph when Vivian surrendered to him. The look of betrayal on Merlin’s face when he’d found them together. “Merlin wove a spell that shivered the stones of Camelot. I could almost see the magic he called, forming in his palms, twining about my body. I remember struggling into my clothes, telling him I loved her, worried I’d have to draw my sword against the king’s advisor. “’Twas bad enough I had broken faith with Merlin, but I didn’t want to be forced to do so with my king.”
She stared at him with ever-widening eyes, as if she couldn’t quite believe his world had once existed. But when she spoke, her voice sounded no louder than the sigh of the wind, tinged with awe and sympathy. “What did Merlin say to you?”
“He said, ‘Only true love will break this spell, boy, and I curse you to search until you find it.’ And then I fractured into a thousand pieces, and knew despair when I later materialized to Vivian from out of the relic, and she could not break the spell.”
“Merlin said nothing more specific?”
“No. Why should he? He intended for me to suffer for my betrayal. He did not want to make breaking the curse easy.”
Millicent frowned. “So. You began to search for your true love.”