The Conquering Dark: Crown

“I did, Mr. Archer.” Grace took a position under a portrait of George III. “I perceive you are shocked to see me here, and I believe I know why. There are no secrets in this room. You are no doubt curious about my advocacy of Rowan Barnes and the disaster that resulted in the destruction of St. Mary Woolnoth.”

 

 

“As well as a series of murders. You recall the Sacred Heart Murders?”

 

Grace gave Simon a cold glare that swiftly vanished. “His Majesty has been fully advised of that regrettable situation. I was supportive of Mr. Barnes because my magical advisors recommended him to me as the best solution to the Gaios problem. In hindsight, it was likely a mistake.”

 

“Likely.” Simon stared at the powerful and beautiful Mrs. North. At the very least this nationally beloved woman had supported a dangerous lunatic, Rowan Barnes, who had murdered several women for ritual purposes. She had championed his cause as patriotic and threatened Simon with destruction if he moved to stop Barnes. At worst, Grace North also knew Barnes had actually been the cat’s-paw of the vile necromancer, Ash. And perhaps that wasn’t the worst of it at all. Kate had observed Mrs. North at Westminster doing something that seemed to be magical, withering one of the apes and restoring the prime minister to health. In Grace North’s eyes there was something deep and hidden, a cold blue secret. Or perhaps Simon was imagining it.

 

“Those advisors have been removed from service.”

 

Kate said, “May we ask who those advisors were?”

 

Grace gave her an indulgent smile. “It was Lord Argyle.”

 

Simon laughed harshly. “Are you serious?”

 

“I am,” Grace replied coolly.

 

Kate looked nonplussed. “The Archdruid of the Mercury Club? That sherry-sotted reprobate was the Crown’s magical expert?”

 

“Yes,” King William said with embarrassment. “We are aware that he is not exactly Merlin. He has been cached, and I believe has since left England.”

 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Grace said softly.

 

William continued to Kate, persisting with his opinion that she was the leader of the team. “That is why you are here today. As Mrs. North said, mistakes were made with this Barnes fellow. I regret I was not as active as I should have been, but that has changed. From this point forward, the Crown’s magical agents will receive their orders from the Crown. No magical decisions will be made without royal approval. The only people who know about your existence are in this room today. And that is all who will ever know.” He cast an eye on Grace.

 

She bowed in supplication.

 

“And so let’s move on,” said the king to Kate. “What are our options for running these frightful brigands to ground?”

 

“Miss Anstruther.” Simon raised a finger. “I have an idea, if I may.”

 

Kate looked at him evenly, pausing as if unsure she would deign to allow him to speak. Then, fighting her amusement, she gave him an excellent imperious silent nod for him to proceed.

 

Simon stretched out his legs, feeling suddenly quite comfortable with the highest of the high. “We need to draw them out, force them to fight on our terms. And they want one thing.”

 

William scowled. “That would be me, sir.”

 

“No, Your Majesty. What they wanted, I believe, is the Stone of Scone.”

 

“Oh.” The king looked a bit disappointed.

 

“Your coronation was their opportunity since the true Stone is rarely removed from the vault’s protection. I assume the Stone has been returned to its place of safety.”

 

King William rubbed his hands together, staring at the floor. He seemed hesitant to reply.

 

Simon sat forward. “Is there some problem with the Stone of Scone, sir?”

 

King William leaned against a table. He took a deep, contemplative breath. “Mr. Archer, I regret to tell you that we no longer have the true Stone.”

 

“They succeeded in stealing it!” Kate exclaimed. “We should have been watching it, no matter the vault.”

 

“No, Miss Anstruther.” William calmed her. “We haven’t had the true Stone for some years now.”

 

“What?” Simon exclaimed loudly, then cleared his throat. “I mean, what do you mean, sir?”

 

The king exhaled. “The last time we were sure of the true Stone was my brother’s coronation ten years ago. Then it was returned to the vault. When we went to retrieve it for my coronation last year upon my brother’s death, our experts proclaimed the Stone in the vault to be a fake. Despite our best efforts to track it down, it has vanished.”

 

Malcolm chuckled from the corner. “Maybe it’s gone back to Scotland where it belongs.”

 

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