Page 8 of The Magic of Pemberley (Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mage #2)

Chapter 8

E lizabeth’s final vows were arranged faster than Darcy had expected. The dragons he had met with Georgiana joined them along with several others, magic thrumming through the ground with each arrival. Darcy could not touch it, but its undeniable potency filled the room, like the charged air during a thunderstorm. The dragons began to hum, and the power grew even more intense.

It should have been more disturbing, being trapped underground with all these dragons, and stranger still to be more or less ignored by them. The entire room was silent except for that odd, reverberating humming. He should have expected it, since dragons only spoke aloud for the sake of humans. Instead, he felt lost, left out of the mental conversation. But there was such a sensation of celebration, of welcoming Elizabeth, that his natural discomfort eased.

He had expected something like a wedding ceremony, with vows exchanged, and he could not deny the idea had made him uncomfortable. But that did not appear to be the case. Instead, Elizabeth stood alone in front of the Eldest, with Cerridwen joining the other dragons. Now he could see why they called her a hatchling. She was half the size of the others.

Something must have happened, for after a few minutes, the Eldest spoke aloud as she gazed into Elizabeth’s eyes. “You are now a full partner to your companion, and a part of our Nest. Let this be your second home and we your second family. And so it is done.”

The vows were done? Had the whole ceremony happened in silence, and he had missed it?

Elizabeth’s form seemed to glow for a moment, and then she staggered. Alarmed, Darcy stepped forward – but no, he tried to step forward, but his feet would not leave the intricately tiled floor. Instead, the room blurred around him, a surge of strange, potent magic singing in his veins.

It was like when he was lost in the land, when he let his Talent sink too deeply into Pemberley and struggled to find his way out, but this time he had not used his Talent at all. So why was magic scouring him from the inside out?

What had the dragons done to him? Had he been wrong to trust them? He needed answers, but he could not find the words.

The voice of the Eldest broke through his jumbled thoughts. “It is our custom to grant each new companion a boon to welcome them to our Nest. Do you have a request, Companion Elizabeth, or shall we choose for you?”

Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I have a request, perhaps an unusual one. You are aware that my husband will soon go on a dangerous mission to France.”

The dragon rumbled, “We cannot help with his mission, since it involves killing.”

Elizabeth raised her chin. “I know. I am asking for something different, that you assist him in coming home safely afterwards.”

This. This was why she wanted him here, why she had wanted to hurry this process along. It stung his pride to see her begging the dragons for help, and yet, of all the things in the world she could have asked for, she had chosen his safety.

His head swam. Should he say something? Could he even make his mouth form intelligible syllables?

The Eldest’s aura had shifted, and she did not seem pleased. “Does this request reflect your own desires, or was it suggested to you? ”

Elizabeth’s lips twitched. “Honored one, I strongly suspect my husband is furious with me for asking this, because proud men dislike needing help. It was my idea entirely.”

The dragon’s head swiveled in his direction. “Darcy, step forward. I would hear this from you.”

Somehow Darcy managed to move, first one foot and then the other. It seemed to require an inordinate amount of effort to keep his balance while the magic sparked like lightning in his skull. “I knew nothing of a boon, much less of her plans.” That had made sense, had it not?

The dragon’s nictitating membrane closed slowly and re-opened. “And if you had known, would you have supported her request?”

The lightning sizzles in his brain made it hard to formulate a response. “With all respect, I cannot see any way in which you could help me, so I would see no point in asking.”

“You have little faith,” said the Eldest, with a sound that might have been a snort.

“I…” The rushing in his ears was growing intolerably loud, and his knees gave way.

The dragons’ Nest. That was where he was. He had been telling the dragons…something, and then… nothing. And now he was lying on a pile of cushions in the enormous chamber of the Eldest, the scent of smoke and metal prickling in his nose. He raised his head, and Elizabeth’s face appeared in his vision.

“Thank heavens! You frightened me,” she said.

Darcy stared up at her. “What did they do to me?” he asked hoarsely.

She bit her lip. “The dragons? They did nothing. It was my fault, although unintentionally done. Taking the final vows gave me full access to my dragon companion magic. Somehow that unexpectedly affected you. I have had many years to adjust to the power, even though I could not use it, but you have not.”

“They had control of your magic?” He did not like the sound of that.

“They say it is the usual process when a companion bonds as a young child. My body could not manage dragon magic then, so they…well, perhaps the best description would be that they put a bridle on my ability to use it. Usually it would have been removed when I was sixteen, but I never went back to the Welsh Nest for my final vows. It is gone now, which feels odd.” She paused. “It is affecting you through our blood link, because I am increasing.”

He struggled to his feet, his head swimming a little. “Not because our magic entwines?”

“Unlikely,” the Eldest rumbled from behind her. “Many dragon companions can entwine their magic with their mates, but none has had this effect. It is unusual, though, for a companion to come into their power after they are already married, though.

He blinked. Everyone knew entwined magic was highly unusual, but was it merely because dragon companions were rare?

“If I had been unbridled before I conceived, you would have grown accustomed to this gradually,” Elizabeth said apologetically. “Instead it has hit you all at once.”

She helped him to a chair that someone must have found for him, since why would dragons otherwise have a chair? If one could call it that when it was an elaborate silver sculpture with miniature faces of animals, fae, and legendary creatures. It looked more like a throne for the monarch of a magical kingdom than a place to keep him safe from having his legs go out from under him.

He sank down into it gratefully. Its comfort did not match its beauty, but it held his weight, and that was the important thing.

The enormous dragon rumbled, “I have been considering the boon you requested, Companion Elizabeth. We have nothing that can guarantee your mate’s safety, but there are some tools which might prove useful to him. ”

Elizabeth nodded. “I will be grateful for any help.”

“Indeed,” Darcy said. He was willing to play along with this for Elizabeth’s sake, but it was hard to see what a dragon in England could do to help him escape Napoleon’s clutches.

“The first thing will permit brief communication between the two of you.” The dragon produced what appeared to be two iridescent copper-colored dragon scales, matching the ones that covered her body. “They will become active each day at sunset. When both of you hold one of these, you will be able to send a message regardless of the distance. Only a very brief one – an image, a thought, a sentence. These will not work for anyone one else, just the two of you, and only when your mate is away from England.”

Darcy straightened. Could this be true? Sending over a great distance had always been thought an impossibility.

Elizabeth picked up one scale and stroked it carefully, reverently. “You are generous.”

The dragon said, “One thing. I must insist that you not use this in any way to further your desire to kill. It is not a tool to help with murder.”

“I give you my word,” Darcy said. It was too bad, though. How valuable it could be, if only the War Office could send him word this way! After all, the dragons would benefit from Napoleon’s death, too. Perhaps it was worth a risk. “If I may ask a question, though – why are you so opposed to my mission? I respect your belief that killing is wrong, but it would be none of your doing, and I cannot believe you wish for Napoleon to remain free to force other dragons to fight.”

Shocked surprise furled off the dragon. “Wrong? Is that what they have told you? We do not kill because it endangers our freedom.”

“How could it endanger you?”

The dragon gazed at him in sorrow. “Because the moment a dragon kills, he becomes a slave of the Wicked King. That is the trigger that puts us into bondage.”

“I… I do not understand. ”

“When the Wicked King created dragons, he wanted a perfect war machine. He made us intelligent so we could make decisions in battle, but that risked making us too clever to obey every order. Lest we turn our weapons on him, he set a trap in our very bodies. The first time we kill, it triggers in us a compulsion to obey him in all things. Our ancestors did not know that, so they accepted the rewards he offered for fighting in his wars. Thus they became his minions for life, and he used them to destroy entire kingdoms of innocent fae.” Grief pervaded the air around her.

It was horrifying. “But you are free of him in the mortal world, are you not?”

“Unless we kill – or take action that results in killing. I cannot help your mission, even indirectly.” Her voice was weighed with helpless grief. “I have more that can assist your safe return, but we must speak alone for that. You may leave us, Companion Elizabeth.”

Her eyes widened. “Very well.” She darted a quick glance at Darcy and left the chamber, looking back over her shoulder. The trust in her expression warmed his heart.

The Eldest settled herself, as if striving for greater comfort. “May I speak to you in your mind?” she asked.

“You may.” He was surprised she bothered to make the request after sharing with him earlier.

Her voice moved inside his head. I thank you. Speaking aloud tires me, as I am both out of practice and out of date.

“Your spoken language is not at all lacking.” But was the Eldest not speaking now, only inside his mind instead of aloud? Or was a dragon using some other language entirely, yet Darcy heard it as English?

It has been many years since I had a companion to practice with . A sense of sadness, an image of a woman in Elizabethan dress. One does not forget, but it does not come as smoothly.

It sent a shock through him. It was one thing to be told the dragons lived for centuries and that this was the Eldest, but knowing she had lived in the time of good Queen Bess made it real. “I am sorry for your loss.” Was it appropriate to offer condolences for someone dead for over two centuries ?

She lives on in my memory. But to the matter of your safety, there are ways I can help you, but only if you agree to be bound against ever revealing the information I give you to anyone, either human or dragon .

He blinked. “Is it enough if I give you my word?”

To my sorrow, no. We have learned that the most honorable humans can have their tongue loosened by threats to them or to those they love, and I must protect my Nest as you would protect your family.

Allow another spell to control what he could and could not say? Never. His mind was his own. It was bad enough having the one binding spell in place.

I can sense your discomfort with the idea, so I will say no more.

“You will not try to persuade me that it is only a small thing?” He had not meant to say that, but the words would not be held back.

Of course not. Only you can decide whether giving up your free will on whether or not to speak is an acceptable price.

At least the dragon understood his concerns. Even so, every instinct raged against the idea. “If I agree to this, will it truly bring me back safely?”

No. I would give you tools that could help you, nothing more.

No false promises, but no rescue, either. The disappointment made him realize how badly he longed to survive this mission, to return to Elizabeth, to meet his child.

If Lord Liverpool at the War Office knew how to use bindings, he would have bound Darcy long ago not to speak of his mission. It would be a tool they used on every spy and agent, and without asking permission. But this dragon, ancient, powerful, with the ability to tear him to shreds with its sharp talons or to roast him alive with its fiery breath, was offering him a choice.

A choice to live to see his child.

“Yes, I will accept the binding,” he blurted out before he could think better of it.

You do not seem certain. Perhaps you might wish to consider it or to speak with your mate first. This dragon cared more for his opinion than all the fine gentlemen in the government who lectured others on their duty .

“I am as certain as I can be about a spell which affects my mind.” And suddenly it was true.

The dragon inclined his head. Then everything you learn from me in this conversation henceforth will be under binding.

“I agree.”

His skin tingled, not painfully, more like the mildest of repulsion, and then it faded away. He felt no different. Had something truly changed?

Here is the gift I have for you . The dragon held out his foreleg as if holding something in it, but there was nothing there. You cannot see it, but you will be able to feel it. Take it .

Feeling foolish, Darcy reached out for empty air, and his fingers touched metal. He grasped it, the invisible Artifact, and ran it through his fingers. It seemed to be a pendant, a chain with an attached oval of metal. He could see his fingers clearly through it, with none of the blurred edges characteristic of an illusion of invisibility. It made no sound as he poured it from one hand to the other, no clinking or clattering. “What is it?”

It is invisible, silent, without smell or taste. If you put a drop of your blood in the center of the pendant, you will take on those same properties for a day and a night. No one will see you, smell you, or hear you, not even your breathing. Nor can your magic be sensed. Only by touch can you be found .

Darcy’s jaw dropped. “This can truly do all that?” It was the stuff of ancient stories.

We use them regularly. I have placed limitations on this one, though. It will work only for you, and only one time. I set it so it will have no effect on British soil, nor upon the sea. It is for your protection, and nothing else. Should you try to use it to harm another person or dragon, it will shatter in your hands and lose all effect.

Darcy stared at his seemingly empty hands. With this, he could walk out of Napoleon’s palace without pursuit. This could easily make the difference between life and death, imprisonment or freedom. “I give you my word of honor I will not misuse it. This is truly a marvel. I have never heard of such a thing. ”

The dragon sighed. We keep them secret, even from our companions. We created these amulets for our safety, but many humans would see the potential for misuse. They would use it to spy or steal or kill with no one the wiser. If your leaders knew they existed, they would want them for their soldiers and spies, and they would demand them from us, whether or not we were willing. We would be complicit in the crimes they committed with our magic .

It was true. One of these amulets would allow anyone to walk up and kill Napoleon, or the prime minister, or King George. They would give ultimate power, and the government would not rest until they possessed them. “Yet you use them regularly. Why would a dragon need to hide when you can already change into any form?”

We hide from the Wicked King. Although we live in the mortal world, there are times we must return to Faerie: to breed and for the hatching of eggs. These amulets protect us from discovery .

From the High King, who could force them back into slavery. No wonder they had created these Artifacts, but the Eldest was right. These were too potent for humankind to be trusted with. For once, Darcy was grateful for the binding that would force him to keep this secret.