“You!” Morvath shouted abruptly, causing her thoughts to shatter. The King of Portugal tapped a finger to his own chest and mouthed, Me? in horror. “Yes, you. Find something to tie the hands and gag the mouths of the pirate women I can see in this crowd.”

“Why?” Olivia asked, feet akimbo, hands on her hips. “What is your plan?”

“Yes, reveal it to us,” Bloodhound Bess urged.

Morvath turned purple with rage. “I will not be mocked!” He hauled in a long, deep breath, trying to calm himself. As he exhaled, he began to intone the pirates’ flying spell. The castle jolted; people screamed, grasping at one another as they stumbled; some fell to their knees.

“Don’t be stupid,” Ned warned. “You don’t have the strength to fly a castle like this on your own, especially without a wheel.”

“I don’t need a wheel to merely lift it to a great height and then drop it,” Morvath retorted.

“But then you’ll die too.”

“Ha! I’m not as stupid as you, Lightbourne. I always have a premises on hand. Cecilia and I are going to the roof, where a tool shed awaits my escape. Anyone tries to follow me and you’ll have to clamber over her dead body.”

“Well, that’s a fairly reasonable plan,” Miss Fairweather said to Bloodhound Bess, who nodded.

“Don’t do it,” Ned said.

“Shut up, you—you—mummy’s boy!” Morvath sneered in reply.

Ned rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

“What—?”

Morvath looked behind, but he was too late. With an inarticulate cry, he crumpled to the ground and was still.

Queen Victoria hoisted the emerald crown with which she had bashed the villain over the head. “I told you these things were heavy,” she said, handing it to a lady-in-waiting.

A relieved exhalation went through the crowd. Alex O’Riley holstered the gun he’d been silently pointing toward Morvath. Several pirate ladies turned to shrug at one another and then look around for another drink. Ned hurried forward, taking Cecilia in his arms, but she struggled to break free.

“Sir,” she whispered. “Not over my father’s dead body.”

“I don’t think he’s dead,” Ned reassured her. “I can hear him moaning. That was always Morvath’s problem—never knew when to shut up.”

“But my reputation!”

He laughed. “Cecilia, your father tried to kill the royalty of several countries. I expect your reputation is entirely lost.” He drew back, hands shifting to either side of her head, gun handle pressing against her ear. “My love,” he said, and kissed her.

The assembled crowd cooed and whistled in most unregal fashion.

Cecilia tried to push him away but her wits captured her nerves and forced her to sag against his body. He held her close, and yet she felt as if she was flying to a wild horizon. Finally he let her go, and she stumbled back, confused by gravity.

“You’ll have to marry him now,” Queen Victoria said with a chuckle. Then she grimaced down at Morvath’s unconscious body. “What a repulsive fellow. And his waistcoat is far too long. Someone clear this mess away.”