Page 32 of The Magic of Pemberley (Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mage #2)

Chapter 32

F rederica touched her hair before she entered Rana Akshaya’s room, making certain nothing was out of place after her long hours at Roderick’s bedside. At least the dragon from India had agreed to see her, without Frederica having to resort to the various pleas she had planned to get past her servants. The dragon from India usually kept to herself at Pemberley, staying in her own room and interacting only with her entourage.

Whatever luck had made Rana Akshaya agree to it, Frederica was grateful for it. This was her last hope, and she needed it to go well.

She made a deep curtsy as she approached the large dragon. “Great Rana, I appreciate your generosity in seeing me.”

“What is it you wish, Companion Frederica?” The dragon had not been so abrupt when pretending to be a human mage in London.

“I do not know if you have heard about Rowan, the young dragon of the Dark Peak, who recently bonded to a human against the wishes of his Nest.”

Rana Akshaya stared at her with giant bronze-ringed eyes. “The young are often foolish.”

Frederica took a deep breath. “I am a mere mortal, so I cannot judge Rowan’s behavior, but the gentleman he bonded to is very ill. The Dark Peak healers cannot help him because they are unable leave the Nest, and they say it would be too dangerous to bring him there.”

“So you wish to avail yourself of the dragon healer who is under your own roof.”

Frederica could read nothing in her aura, but she did not sound friendly. “I came to throw myself on your mercy. You owe me nothing. But Roderick has been a good friend to dragons all his life, and he is very dear to me.”

“Everyone has someone whom they hold dear. Including the many thousands of people in my land who have been killed or enslaved by the English.”

Definitely not friendly. Frederica’s heart sank, and she bowed her head. “The British have given you many reasons to hate us. I never understood that until I met Roderick, who told me what the English have done to his people, and how even now they suffer from it. My ignorance is no excuse, though, nor does it make any difference that I am ashamed of what my government has done.”

“He is not English, this man?”

“No, he is Welsh. His country has been under England’s thumb for centuries. He despised me at first for being English.”

“Why are you pleading for the life of one of your country’s enemies?”

The image of Roderick lying so still rose before her. “He is not my enemy. He is a good person, one of the best I have known.” Her voice shook, despite her best efforts. “We quarreled, and he thinks I despise him, and I cannot bear the idea that he will never know the truth.”

The enormous dragon set back on her haunches and stared at Frederica silently, her eyes filled with light and mist. The silence went on for a minute, two minutes, three.

Was she to take this as a dismissal? Or was the dragon waiting for her to say something more? Then Frederica felt a light sensation on her skin, like the brush of a butterfly’s wing. Not that she had ever been brushed by butterflies, but how she would imagine it.

Then it struck her. She was being read, without the touch required by the dragons she knew. Without being asked. But if there was any chance of convincing Rana Akshaya to heal Roderick, she would accept it. After all, she had nothing to hide, no secrets apart from the one she had already revealed, her feelings for Roderick.

Though perhaps she ought to be nervous. Had not Quickthorn said that Rana Akshaya had powers beyond those of the Nest? Frederica’s mother always told her she had more courage than good sense.

“Does your dragon know you have come to me?” Rana Akshaya rumbled.

“Yes. She told me not to waste my time.”

“You enjoy hopeless tasks?”

Stung, Frederica snapped, “Should I give up on trying to save my friend, simply because it is unlikely to succeed? I would rather fail while trying to do the right thing than admit defeat without even an attempt.”

The dragon’s chest rippled. Did that mean amusement, as it would for an English dragon? “Tell my servant where your friend is. I will do what I can.”

Hours later, well into the evening, Rana Akshaya arrived at Roderick’s bedside, when Frederica had all but given up on her. She swept into the room in her veiled human guise and took one glance at Roderick, who was in one of his thrashing phases. “You may go now,” she said to Frederica, dismissing her as if she were a servant.

Somehow Frederica had not expected that, but she swallowed the desire to beg to stay. She retreated from the room and began to wander the old gallery, pacing from end to end as if her steps could somehow help the healing.

But Rana Akshaya did not emerge. Each time Frederica passed the doorway to Roderick’s room, dragon magic tugged at her, powerful beyond her ken .

A half-hour. An hour. What kind of healing took this long? If, in fact, Rana Akshaya was trying to heal him. What if she made a terrible mistake in bringing her here?

Another half-hour. They would have expected her back at the main house long ago. But she wanted, she needed, to be here to hear the news, whether it was good or bad.

No. She would remain. She sought out the housekeeper and asked her to send a servant to Pemberley, informing them she would spend the night at the Dower House. Mrs. Reynolds would no doubt send a squad of maids to protect Frederica’s reputation from a night alone with an unmarried man, even if he was unconscious.

A guttural cry of pain came from Roderick’s room. Frederica clutched her arms around her, digging her fingers into her flesh until it hurt.

Another cry, this one wild and ululating. She swallowed a sob.

And ran. Ran out of the Dower House, through the moonlit walled garden, and to the old dovecote, to the only other being who would also find this as unbearable as she. Rowan.

It was pitch black in the dovecote, but as soon as she entered, a glow began at the base of the circular walls, enough that she could see the red dragon curled up against the far edge. She ran forward and threw her arms around his scaly neck, an impossible forwardness.

But it felt right, and she could sense his pain, too. “Rana Akshaya is trying to heal him,” she sobbed.

I know. Rowan spoke in her head, as if mortal speech was beyond him. She asked my permission. You were very brave to go to her.

“But she is hurting him!”

I can feel it. But sometimes healing causes pain. His own deep distress leaked through the sending.

“The healers of the Nest, would they have hurt him too?”

I do not know, but Rana Akshaya is unusually powerful. We do not understand some of her abilities. If anyone can save him, she can.

She breathed raggedly with relief. If Rowan trusted Rana Akshaya, so would she. “Are you in trouble with the Nest?”

Very much so, but I expected that . He switched to speaking aloud. “They cannot put me under Silence right now, when they need every able-bodied young dragon to manage the visitors. If Roderick lives, I will go to his Nest, and it will not matter.”

“He will live,” she said fiercely. “He must.”

“Did Rana Akshaya state a price for doing this healing?”

Her mouth went dry. “No. Should I have offered payment?”

“Not unless she asked it. A deep healing like this takes an enormous amount of power, so it is rarely undertaken without a reason.”

If there was a price, she would find a way to pay it. As long as Roderick lived.

“Wake up, Companion Frederica!”

Frederica’s bed was shaking. No, not her bed; she must have drifted off to sleep against Rowan’s flank, there in the old dovecote. Then it all came back to her. “Is there news?”

“Rana Akshaya says we can see him now.”

She jumped to her feet and hurried out of the dovecote, momentarily blinded as she came out of the darkness into early morning sunshine. Had Rana Akshaya been working on Roderick all night?

Blinking hard, she ran through the garden, into the house, and pounded up the stairs in the most unladylike manner.

Roderick’s door stood open. Inside it, he was sitting propped up in bed, sipping something from a cup held in both his hands.

Relief flooded her. “You are awake! Do you know who I am?” Because the last two times he had opened his eyes, he had not even seen her.

The corners of his mouth twitched. “How could I ever forget you, Lady Frederica?” His voice was thin and gravelly with disuse, but it was his voice, his melodic Welsh accent.

“You terrified us,” she blurted out .

“My apologies.” This time he did smile. “It was most unintentionally done. And I am beyond honored that the great Rana troubled herself with my case.” He nodded to the figure slumped in the armchair.

“You should be!” Then she remembered her manners, stopping herself just in time from pouring out her thanks. “Rana Akshaya, I honor you for your impressive abilities and the grace you have shown in helping us.”

Even through her veils and the layers of cloth she was wrapped in, it was obvious for the first time that Rana Akshaya was not human. Her knees were bent in at an unnatural angle and her arms foreshortened. Had she exhausted her power working on Roderick, leaving little for her careful masquerade?

“He would not have lived on his own,” Rana Akshaya said flatly. “His blood was not strong enough. I had to go deep into his bones to create new blood.”

Hearing the words made Frederica’s chest tight, even though she had known he was dying. The rest of it was nonsense, though. What did blood have to do with bones? The Indian dragons must have odd ideas of how the human body worked. “Your efforts do you great honor.”

Her eyes kept darting back to Roderick, as if he were a magnet. He was alive!

Rana Akshaya stood. “Lady Frederica Fitzwilliam, I will speak to you outside.” She enunciated the words with unusual care, and it was clearly a command.

And one not addressed to Companion Frederica, as Rana Akshaya had called her ever since her binding to Quickthorn. It must mean something, but what?

“Yes, great Rana.” With one last glance at Roderick, Frederica followed Rana Akshaya from the room and down to the far end of the gallery.

Rana Akshaya swung around to face her. “Lady Frederica Fitzwilliam.”

Definitely significant.

“Yes?”

“I may find myself in need of someone to be my spokesman to your government, to manage negotiations on my behalf. They see dragons as mere animals, and dangerous ones at that, and people from my country are only slightly better. I need someone they will listen to.” Her gaze seemed to bore into Frederica, even through the thick veil.

So there was a price. The Indian dragon clearly saw the British government as her enemy, or at least that of her country. Speaking for her was likely to put Frederica at odds with a great many people, not least of all her father. She would be lucky not to be ostracized by society, much of which was perfectly content with large profits the East India Company brought home.

Still, she was fortunate the price was no higher. “As long as it is not in violation of my companion bond or my oath to the Nest, I will be happy to give you whatever assistance I may.”

“You are cautious. That is good. But I will tell you this: ignorance of your country’s misdeeds is indeed a valid excuse, but once you are no longer ignorant, you become complicit – unless you work to make changes.”

The words hit with force. Was there magic behind them, or was it simply a very unpleasant truth? “You are correct. I would like to see my country change certain of its ways.”

Rana Akshaya nodded curtly. “You will be informed when you are needed.”

“Yes, great Rana.” What else could she say?

The veiled form began to turn away, and then stopped. “One other matter, Companion Frederica. Love is a rare treasure, not to be squandered. Do not allow pride and vanity to starve your soul.”

Frederica took an involuntary step back. What a shocking personal statement from the haughty Indian dragon! How could she possibly answer it? Instead, she bowed her head and made her deepest curtsy, the one she would use to the King himself, as Rana Akshaya walked off.

Was that what she had been doing, putting pride and vanity ahead of love?

It was not a pretty picture.

Frederica’s thoughts swirled as she returned to Roderick’s room. The chair where she had spent the last two days was still beside his bed, and she automatically sat in it without waiting for an invitation.

Her hand felt achingly empty after all that time holding his. She wanted to reach out and take it, but that would be beyond improper, now that he was conscious.

Rowan, in his peregrine falcon form, perched on the footboard of the bed. The dragon spoke in her mind. So there is a price?

I can afford it . Though it would likely cost her a great deal of her social standing. At least that might discourage her most persistent suitor, Mortimer Percy.

Roderick said, “May I beg you to set down this cup for me? I fear I will spill it if I try.” He still held it in both hands.

“Of course.” She reached out and took it by the handle. As her fingers brushed his, a tingle ran up her arm. Oh, that heat in her cheeks! How she hated her fair complexion that showed every blush.

“Yes, I am still as weak as a newborn kitten,” he said in response to her unasked question.

“But you are alive.”

“For which fact, Rowan tells me, I am indebted to you.”

It embarrassed her, and that made her cross. “You can just thank me. I am not a dragon to take offense at the words. And your dragon is a busybody.”

He gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. “Then I thank you. I am quite attached to my life, as it happens.” He leaned his head back against the pillow, closing his eyes.

“Yet you risked it doing a blood binding so far from the Nest!” All her fear came back to her.

He opened one eye. “As if you would have hesitated for even one second, if it were your only chance to become a dragon companion. ”

“Well, yes, but you are always cautious,” she said, flustered. “And you care about your responsibilities.”

He closed the eye again. “Perhaps I have learned something from someone who throws caution to the wind when she sees something she truly wants.”

The word seemed to echo between them.

Pride and vanity. Nourishing the soul. Throwing caution to the wind.

She could not help herself. She took his hand in hers and held it firmly, like an anchor in the storm.

His eyes stayed closed, but he smiled slightly. And his fingers squeezed hers, ever so gently.

Her heart just might burst.

She was still there several hours later, tired and hungry, when he woke again. But nothing would have made her leave his bedside before she was certain he was recovered.

“Is it true, then, what Rowan said, that you stayed by my bedside?” he asked huskily. “How shocking.” It was a tease.

“I went back to the main house at night. Except last night, during your healing, when I fell asleep on your dragon in a dirty old dovecote. And pray do not say that I am a mess because of it,” she said fiercely. She ought to have at least brushed her hair and put it back up, but that would have meant letting go of his hand. Out of the question.

That smile again, the one she had thought lost forever. “I would have said you look charmingly informal. And that Darcy would take a horse whip to me if he walked in at this moment.”

“Then it is a good thing Darcy is in France.” She turned to the maid. “Pray fetch some tea and food for Mr. Roderick. He needs to rebuild his strength.”

The maid curtsied and left .

Roderick’s expression grew serious. “You must take better care of your reputation.”

Exactly what she had spent the last two hours considering. “What I do with my reputation is my business, Roderick ap Rhodri. It is not your problem.”

He shook his head. “But it is. I cannot offer you a future; that has not changed. But neither will I be party to your ruination.”

“You are too late for that. I took care of that matter several years ago,” she informed him briskly, enjoying the sight of his dropped jaw.

“You did… You did what?”

“And why not? I was fated for a marriage of repulsion, where my husband’s every touch would only bring me pain unless I was drugged to accept it. Can you blame me for wanting to know something kinder and happier before I condemned myself to that?” She never told anyone before, but she was not going to let Roderick off the hook with false excuses.

“You… I…” He heaved aside. “I have no interest in judging you. It sounds eminently sensible.”

“If shocking.”

“I will not deny that.”

She leaned forward. “I understand that you are going back to Wales and I cannot follow you. What has changed is that I have decided to take what I can get in the meantime, rather than live with regrets over chances missed.” She narrowed her eyes. “Unless you tell me that you are not interested. Then I will leave you in peace.”

He chuckled, albeit weakly. “You would ask me to lie to a truth-caster?”

“I never know what you are thinking,” she complained. “I thought, after that night at the coaching inn, that you despised me.”

“Despised you ? Despised myself, rather, and all the reasons why it was impossible for anything to happen between Lady Frederica Fitzwilliam and simple Roderick ap Rhodri.”

“Not so simple, as I understand it.” Granny had told her about Roderick’s illustrious forebears. “And it seems the problem lies more in your desire to keep your Welsh village a secret than in my birth. ”

He sighed. “Would you have me expose my family and friends, and force the dragons who live among us into hiding, all for the sake of my own desires?”

“No,” she said crossly. “But I do wish you would tell me what you are keeping from me.”

He groaned. “May God protect me from truth-casters!” But he did not meet her eyes.

She waited as he fidgeted.

His shoulders slumped. “You are taking advantage of my weakness, but so be it. I have the King’s Bond to the land.”

It hit her like a shock. The King’s Bond, far beyond a simple land Talent, an ability that ranged wide and permitted the monarch to use the land itself in its own defense. No British rulers since Queen Elizabeth had carried the King’s Bond.

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “How far is your reach?”

His expression was self-deprecating, of course. “Much of northern Wales, except the far eastern part.”

Good God. If the government had any clue, they would execute Roderick, and his every relation along with him.

“And you are a powerful mage on top of that, and now a dragon companion as well.”

His eyes met hers. “Now you see why I cannot afford to draw the attention of English society by attaching myself to one of their well-known aristocrats.”

The problem was that she did see. And it broke her heart. She raised her chin. “Then I will learn to be glad of the little time I have with you.”

His eyes softened. “Though we may need to wait until I am strong enough to, say, sit up on my own.”

She gave him an arch look. “For some things, perhaps.” And then she stood to lean over the bed – and claimed his lips with her own.

At last.