“I don’t care what it is to you. It’s something to Ferghus. Trust me. In two days, they’re taking the Stone from the vault in Westminster and hiding it in an old storage pit under one of the piers of old London Bridge.”
“That’s interesting.”
“Yeah, it is, and it’s free to Ferghus. I just hope he’ll see his way clear to help out an old mate in these times of trouble.”
Tommy asked quietly, “How did you come by this information?”
Nick took a breath. “Tell the truth, it was from Archer. I still see him around and he still thinks we’re mates. He told me all about it. He was involved in that row at Westminster. Working for the Crown now like a proper little soldier. Makes me sick.”
Tommy slugged back the last of the ale and slammed down his glass. He gave Nick a collegial nod. “Thanks for the drink, Nick, and the chat. Pleasure, Mr. MacClydesdale.”
Simon sat quietly until he felt a kick in the shins. “Oh! Yes. Pleasure was mine.”
The fat man shoved his bulk up with a suspicious glance at Simon. He shook Nick’s hand again and waddled out.
“Right.” Nick watched the door until it shut. “That’s well done.”
Simon leaned on the table with an exasperated glare. “Proper little soldier, eh? So you were mates with Ferghus O’Malley too? You were with him the night of the Great Fire? How did you neglect to mention that?”
Nick motioned for more beer. “Must you always dwell on the past, MacClydesdale? I knew a lot of people. I’m old and social.” He straightened with surprise. “Oy. It’s the missus.”
Simon turned to see Kate weaving through the crowd with a determined look. He shot to his feet. “What’s wrong?”
“This came to Hartley Hall this morning.” She held out a piece of paper to Simon.
He took the sheet. “How do you do that? How do you see through Nick’s spell?”
Kate sat in the chair vacated by Tommy, looking Simon up and down curiously. “I’ve always been able to see through Barker’s glamour; he uses cheap potions. Nice mole.”
Nick sputtered angrily. “That’s a load. My magic is solid. You’re the only one who ever saw through it.”
Kate rolled her eyes as she intercepted Simon’s fresh beer and started drinking it.
Simon’s eyes scanned the paper and let it drop to his side. “Well, that’s unexpected. A note from Ash.”
Nick spun in alarm. “What?”
“Easy, old man. It’s not about you. Ash wants to see me.” Simon pulled his half-empty glass from Kate as she wiped foam from her mouth. He picked up his hat and took her arm. “I suppose we should go. How did you know where to find me?”
Kate rolled her eyes at the question. “Since I’ve known you, you’re only ever three places. My house. Your house. Or this pub.”
Simon stared deep into her eyes. “Not exactly a man of mystery, am I?”
“No. You’re like an old married man.”
He moved close to her and whispered, “That won’t do.”
Kate gave an expectant smile and they started for the door.
The stars pulsed overhead. A warm breeze rustled the leaves with scents of the blooms, the last thick fragrances before the sharp bite of autumn. Simon and Kate posted along a wagon trail. Kate’s wolfhound, Aethelred, raced ahead of them, enjoying his freedom. Beyond a distant copse of trees, they heard muffled chatter and laughter. A small village enjoyed a soft night, delaying their bedtimes for a few moments of pleasure.
Kate’s red stallion moved like a ship before the wind, tall and strong, unmindful of any around him. Simon wrestled with his fitful grey Arabian mare, which Kate delighted to saddle him with. He found the horse spirited, game to be sure, but angry and likely to bite. Kate glanced back from her perch some four hands above him. She hid a smile.
“I’m still here,” Simon called cheerfully. “Don’t fret. Your hellish mare hasn’t eaten me yet.”
“Good to see you haven’t lost your touch with the ladies then.”
A lascivious eyebrow rose at her. “Only one lady matters to me.”
Her smile flashed brilliantly at him in the moonlight. She turned forward and her good mood faded with what lay ahead of them. “You should have worn your armor, Galahad. We don’t know what we’re walking into.”
Simon patted the side of the saddle where his walking stick was wedged. “I didn’t come unarmed. And besides, I’m not afraid of Ash. Clearly she still wants me for her Galahad.”
“You’re already taken. You’d think she’d have figured that out by now.”
Kate’s claiming tone started a warming heat inside Simon. He stared at her ramrod-straight back and curvaceous hips. “Yes, it seems unlike her to beat a dead horse. No pun intended. Why would she have sent a note to meet with us otherwise?”
“I don’t know. I could live happily never talking to Ash again. She makes my skin crawl. Just thinking how she pawed me when she was animating Rowan Barnes.” Kate shuddered.