“You intimidate your enemies with… a kitten… and a hedgehog?” Stephen asked.
“We took a few artistic liberties with the original medieval design,” Marjorie said proudly.
“Wynchester animals are the cleverest and fiercest in England,” Jacob added. He leaned forward to drum his fingers on the stone floor while making clicking noises with his tongue.
Tiglet, a three-year-old calico cat, scampered into the Great Hall in a blur of tricolor fur. Coming right behind waddled the adorable, if less agile, Tickletums—Elizabeth’s personal favorite.
“You really do bring a kitten and a hedgehog everywhere you go?” Stephen said in surprise.
“They would follow us anyway, even if we didn’t,” Elizabeth explained. “That’s a homing cat and a homing hedgehog. They’ve been trained to consider Jacob’s current whereabouts as home.” She lowered her voice. “One of them is significantly better at the task than the other, but I would never leave Tickletums behind.”
“Is that the…”
“Hedgehog. The homing cat is Tiglet.”
Philippa scooped up the cat. “Tommy loaned this kitten to me once, and he kept escaping. But now he treats me like a real Wynchester.”
Tommy kissed her cheek. “Youarea real Wynchester.”
“What props did you bring?” Stephen asked Philippa.
“Wait, I haven’t finished.” Tommy pulled a second army coat from her basket.
Stephen leaned forward. “That looks just like Reddington’s!”
And Stephen would look handsomer than their enemy wearing it. Or wearing nothing at all. Elizabeth waggled her brows at him meaningfully.
“It matches on purpose,” Tommy agreed. “One never knows when one might need to infiltrate the enemy’s ranks and cause confusion amongst his soldiers.”
“I adore causing confusion,” said Adrian.
“I’d rather charge straight ahead and poke holes in them,” said Elizabeth.
“Seconded,” said Kuni.
“Are wesurewe shouldn’t just stay inside the castle where it’s safe?” Philippa asked.
“It’s not a sustainable defense. Not with Reddington,” Elizabeth explained. “The battle won’t end until someone surrenders, and Reddington won’t surrender unless forced to do so at sword-point. We have no other choice but to fight back before he can cause irreversible structural damage.”
A deafening boom sounded outside the castle, vibrating through the stone floor.
“Is hefiringat us?” Philippa’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “We’re supposed to have peace until ten o’clock tomorrow morning!”
Marjorie ran to the closest window. “It looks like they’re practicing. I’ll wager that’s the loophole. The cannonball landed twenty feet short of the castle.”
“Small comfort,” said Philippa. “He dragged that cannon through a forest. He can push it twenty feet closer.”
“Let me at him,” said Elizabeth. “I’ll solve this problem with hand-to-hand combat.”
Jacob stopped her. “No you won’t. You have a sword. Reddington has a cannon.”
“He’s overcompensating,” she muttered.
“He’s calibrating,” said Stephen. “First shots are often to establish range.”
Kuni leaned forward. “About the battle royal. What’s royal about it?”
“Nothing.” Elizabeth explained, “It’s a term that means a fight to the finish. Unlimited combatants against unlimited combatants, with the victory going to the last man standing.” She winked at her sister-in-law. “Or women.”
