Kate shared a bemused look with Simon, but then he turned quickly at the sound of a door opening. King William entered the room, dressed in a common suit, his white hair mussed. The elderly king took in the crowd and smiled.
“Ah, here you are.” He closed the door behind him. There were no secretaries, no clerks, no valets, only the king himself.
Simon inclined his head respectfully as Kate rose and curtsied. Charlotte yelped, trying to copy the curtsy. Imogen remained motionless, and Malcolm posed with an inhospitable glower.
King William went to Kate and grasped her hand. “So good to see you, Miss Anstruther. Thank you for coming so promptly.”
“Of course, Your Majesty. You may recall Mr. Simon Archer.”
“I do, indeed! Welcome to Clarence House, Mr. Archer. I’m glad to speak to you under less tumultuous circumstances.” The king then caught sight of the focused Charlotte and smiled genuinely at her. “You may belay curtsying, my dear. One will suffice for the entire day.”
“Oh.” Charlotte covered her face with embarrassment.
William chuckled pleasantly at her before greeting Malcolm.
“This,” Kate said, “is Malcolm MacFarlane.”
“Mr. MacFarlane,” the king said to Malcolm’s begrudging nod, “I saw your pistols in the antechamber. Remarkable. I’d say a brace of those equal the firepower of a sloop of war.”
“They serve.”
“Quite, quite.” William narrowed his gaze at the Scotsman and turned with a bow to Imogen without the slightest hint that he found her mourning dress unusual. Her veil barely quivered in reaction. He motioned for everyone to resume their seats as he found a plain wooden chair. “First, I want to express my thanks again for your efforts at that horrible coronation. You have my gratitude, and that of Her Majesty the Queen as well.”
“We did little enough,” Kate said.
“Please, let’s speak plainly, Miss Anstruther. There is no one here but I. And I know what you are.”
“Sir?”
“Magicians, Miss Anstruther. Conjurers. Alchemists. Sorcerers and the like. That’s why I sent for you. Those creatures who attacked the coronation were obviously not normal human beings, and they represent an extreme threat to this nation.”
“We are endeavoring to meet that threat, sir,” Kate said.
“I’m sure you are, I’m sure you are. But I require more than that. I am the king, and I must have access to all the resources that can protect my subjects and preserve order in the land and across our empire.”
“Perhaps you should speak a bit more plainly, sir,” Kate said with admirable clarity.
“Quite.” The king was unaffected by the straight talk. He seemed quite content and sure of himself. “I want you and your colleagues here to serve the crown. First, hunt down those devils that threatened so many lives so recklessly at Westminster, and beyond that, to work to protect this realm from a growing occult threat. Is that plain enough?” The king’s eyes twinkled like a playful uncle, but there was a hard political mind behind them.
“It is, sir.” Kate raised her hand to Simon. “I must direct you to Mr. Archer as this band is his creation, in many ways.”
William looked shocked. “Indeed? I’ve been told of you, Mr. Archer. Nothing in your background indicated great generalship in your nature. No offense.”
“None taken, sir,” Simon said. “I am generally known as something of a fatuous playboy.”
“Something of?” The king slapped his knee. “The very definition of, I’d say. I had occasion to hear about you once from Lady Dunston at a garden party that went rather astray.”
“Ah yes.” Simon struggled to stay serious as Kate playfully scowled from behind the king. “Lady Dunston is a fine woman of uncommon … a fine woman.”
“Yes.” King William chuckled, one man to another. “Quite fine. So what do you all say to my proposal?”
“We are eager,” Simon said, “to protect the innocent, anywhere. If you are offering the resources of the Crown to that end, I’d say we are in business, Your Majesty.”
“Excellent! Well said, sir! Your sovereign and your nation thank you.” The king stood. “Now that we are agreed, I’d like to bring in another conspirator.” He went to the door and motioned into the anteroom.
Grace North strode in and gave a perfunctory curtsy to the king.
Simon exchanged a concerned glance with Kate, who was already on her feet.
“This,” King William said calmly, “is Grace North, as I’m sure you know. She has served as coordinator of the government’s magical efforts since early in my reign. Are you acquainted?”
Grace looked typically angelic in yellow satin. “I am, Your Majesty, at least with Mr. Archer and Miss Anstruther.” She was calm and professional, the model of a political actor.
“So, Mrs. North,” Simon caught Grace’s gaze with false simplicity, “you recommended us to His Majesty?”