33

E lizabeth couldn't wait to see her siblings' faces when they saw the Great Hall. It was leagues larger than any room in the family home back in Islington.

Tommy was the first to stride into the spacious chamber. She reached for Philippa's hand to point out one of the machines. The other siblings carried baskets or small parcels. Everyone's eyes widened as they filed into the room.

Graham let out a low whistle at the chalk equations wallpapering the gray stones on all four sides of the Great Hall.

Kuni's jaw dropped at the sight of the enormous machines. "Are these the famous contraptions?"

"I can't imagine what these do," said Jacob.

"Of course we know what they do." Graham consulted the notes he'd made from Elizabeth's reports. "That one franks the post, this one shines boots, the one over there—"

"I'd be happy to demonstrate," Stephen offered.

Marjorie clapped her hands. "We'd adore that."

"But first," said Elizabeth, simultaneously delighted that she was the one to bring her siblings to order for the first time in her life… and that the reason for their distraction was the impressive imagination of her lover. "We have a battle to plan."

"No, dear sister," said Jacob as he settled himself and his gerbil into one of the chairs. "Actual physical combat is a contingency to a contingency to a contingency."

"There are three other plans already?"

"Not yet," he admitted. "But that's why we've assembled."

"Is this how your family normally operates?" Stephen asked as he joined Elizabeth on a sofa.

"Close." Her heart suddenly ached for home. "We have the most cunning Planning Parlor perfectly designed to devise schemes of every flavor. Tommy draws maps on the slate floor, and the cabinets are filled with—oh, I wish you could see it!"

Her siblings exchanged intrigued glances.

Elizabeth's cheeks warmed. The only non-Wynchesters to ever step foot inside the siblings' Planning Parlor… had themselves later become Wynchesters. Part of the team, and part of the family. By wishing Stephen amongst them, she'd as good as declared herself publicly.

It was a good thing Stephen didn't realize she'd done so.

Admitting how she felt was terrifying. Being vulnerable meant being weak. Elizabeth never showed weakness. Not if she could help it.

"Creating so many surprising and useful things is very Wynchester-y of Stephen," Marjorie said meaningfully.

Elizabeth shushed her and assumed a nonchalant expression. "Let's concentrate on our task, shall we?"

"We have the will," said Jacob. "Our first step should be to tell Reddington."

Stephen nodded. "That might be all it takes. Elizabeth explicitly stipulated that if we provided sufficient proof, Reddington must follow the law."

"He agreed?" Tommy asked. "Out loud? In those words?"

Elizabeth sent Stephen a leery expression. "He didn't dis agree. Out loud. Using words."

Stephen lifted a shoulder. "We have to try."

"Ooh," said Marjorie, "we can use the new speaking trumpet that Adrian created."

He held up a long brass cone.

"Reddington does seem to find amplified shouting quite compelling." Tommy tossed the speaking trumpet to Graham. "Let's go yell at him."

"Hide the will and testament, just to be safe," Jacob cautioned. "Once it's tucked back where you found it, I'll lock Apophis in the parlor as guard until we can get the good news to Miss Oak."

Stephen lowered his mouth to Elizabeth's ear. "Is Apophis the Highland tiger?"

"Python," she murmured back.

"That should do the trick," he agreed.

"Off to resolve the problem straight away. Here I go." Elizabeth held out her hand. "Trumpet, please."

"Voluntarily allow my least charismatic sister to oversee negotiations?" Graham muttered as he slapped the speaking trumpet into her palm. "I never thought I'd see the day."

Jacob and Philippa stayed behind to secure the papers while Elizabeth hurried to the closest window.

She stuck the flared tip of her speaking trumpet through the crack. "Hold your fire! Hold your fire! Please confirm cease fire! You promised not to attack before ten o'clock tomorrow morning!"

She yanked the trumpet back into the room while they awaited Reddington's reply.

After a long moment, his voice sounded through his own trumpet. "Cease fire confirmed. Now awaiting your surrender."

Elizabeth hurried from the parlor at a run.

Stephen stopped her just before she reached the murder room and grabbed her by the elbow. "Do you really trust him? His soldiers have arrows ."

"It's a cease fire. I want to see his face when I give him the news."

Stephen didn't look convinced. "I like your pretty eyes too much to want some overzealous archer sending off a wayward arrow and inadvertently giving you a new nickname."

Elizabeth sighed. "Oh, very well, spoilsport. Give me your safety helmet."

She held perfectly still while Stephen settled the leather helmet onto her head and strapped the thick goggles over her eyes.

"That's better."

"I'm waiting!" came Reddington's impatient voice through his speaking trumpet.

"Your patience is about to be rewarded," Elizabeth murmured.

Stephen lifted the heavy wooden drawbar securing the door.

She pushed the door open and stepped out into the bright sunlight.

The army seemed significantly closer now than they had when she'd first spied them an hour ago. The huge glass lenses over her eyes were magnifying the enemy. Reddington had wasted no time encroaching farther on Castle Harbrook territory. Elizabeth could probably speak in her normal voice from this distance and still be heard.

She put the speaking trumpet to her lips anyway. She wanted to be certain every single soldier heard the news.

"You are not the owner of Castle Harbrook," she bellowed into the trumpet. Her voice shook the trees. Yelling into a speaking trumpet was surprisingly satisfying. "We have the late countess's will in our possession. The castle was bequeathed to the countess's sister. It never belonged to her son. You cannot have won it in a game of cards. It wasn't the earl's to wager."

Reddington's men exchanged hesitant glances.

"Go home, all of you," Elizabeth forced herself to say. "You have vowed to follow the law. Ownership is clear. There is no war to be waged."

"His Grace will decide that!" shouted Reddington, aiming his speaking trumpet at his men, rather than at Elizabeth. "If you really do have such a will and testament, then produce it at once. His Grace wishes to inspect the document for himself."

"No way in hell," came Graham's voice behind her. "He'll rip up the will and storm the castle anyway."

Elizabeth nodded and raised the trumpet. "For now, you'll have to trust us. We can arrange a meeting in the coming days with our client and her lawyer—"

"Trust the enemy? I'm afraid that's not how wars are won, wench. You have my castle. I'm coming to get it. Cease fire over."

"You gave your word to—"

Stephen yanked her back inside seconds before the first arrow struck the wooden door right where Elizabeth had been standing.

"But we found the will," Philippa protested weakly. "The case is over. We saved the day."

A swarm of arrows rained against the door and the stone walls.

Elizabeth straightened her spine with determination. "It's not over until we win the war."