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“I do,” Brigid answered.
“The stablemaster used to be a soldier in the Royal Regiment. He is a mighty Highland warrior, well-versed in the old ways of the clans. He taught me how to use the pistols and the knives.”
“And these weapons just happened to be stowed beneath the seat?” Annie queried. “Is there more for the men?”
Brigid reached over to open the other compartment directly under Annie’s seat. Sure enough, there were two broad swords and two more dirks wrapped in cloth.
“These are claymores,” Brigid explained. “The chosen weapon of Highland warriors. I had the stablemaster hide these in uncle’s carriages just in case. When we travel with servants, they are always armed.”
“Oh,” Annie said a little breathlessly.
“Good thinking. I admit I’m a little nervous…okay, maybe more than a little, for what’s to come. It’s not that I haven’t been in dangerous situations; I have. But that was when I was only a little girl, and other people did the fighting. It’s been over a decade. Bear with me if I hyperventilate a little.”
Brigid put her hand over Annie’s and squeezed reassuringly.
“I’ve never been in a battle either. Practicing with weapons isn’t the same as using them in real combat. We will both need to be brave. I know you are, Annie. You have fire and steel in you. I can tell.”
“Well, I am somewhat of a witch,” the younger woman said with a slight quirk of her mouth, a bit of confident color infusing back into her pale cheeks.
“You will know what to do when the time comes,” Brigid said.
“I have faith in you.”
Funny, how words of encouragement could fortify a person like armor. Brigid seemed to have a knack for it.
Annie’s spine snapped straight, and her eyes narrowed with determination.
When she seemed at a loss what to do with the small knife, Brigid instructed, “Insert that into your boot. Unless you feel encumbered walking or running. You can also carry it in your sleeve.”
“The sleeve then,” her friend said, then gave her a skeptical look.
“I never would have pegged you for a fighter, Brigid. Or a leader, honestly. No offense. You’re just so…”
“Round and soft?” Brigid quipped with a wry smile.
“Gentle and feminine,” Annie answeredinstead.
“I know how to fight if I have to,” she said. “You are correct. It’s not in my nature. But we must all fight against the enemy now. I will do my part.”
“You can give the pistols to the men, assuming they know how to use them. Because I certainly don’t,” Annie added.
“I do best with torches.”
Brigid didn’t question the woman. She always knew Annie had hidden talents. She just didn’t know exactly what they were.
“We can make torches from the carriage lanterns. Come.”
Together, they disembarked the carriage, armed and as ready as they would ever be.
Brigid knew now that only she could lead the charge against the nebulous evil of the Master. It was in her bloodline.
She was the long-lost Queen of the Fae.
Only she could push back the darkness with her light. Perhaps she would never be able to destroy it, for light and darkness would always coexist. But she must find a way to contain it.
With sudden clarity, the fight of her ancestors came rushing back to her in memories long forgotten. All the fae Queens and their Consorts before her. Their armies of Light against the monsters of Dark.
For thousands of years, they’d fought one another in an ongoing struggle invisible to the human eye. The Queens before her had managed to keep the Master contained, weakened enough to stay in the Other Realm. Only occasionally did their magic taint the human world.
