“... I mean to say you are a very useful fellow to have around.”
“The gag was my idea. That rude one in front was preparing a snake spell for you, and I was tired of hearing him speak.”
“So was I,” said Lord Matlock. “Libbet, my dear – pardon me; I meant to say Miss Bennet. Would you be so kind as to inform the mage with Queen Titania that I would greatly appreciate his immediate assistance? Darcy as well, as I assume he must be lurking somewhere hereabouts. I would do it myself, if I thought I could stand up without bringing on another heart paroxysm.” He looked paler than he had the time Elizabeth had healed him, and this time her magic was too depletedto help.
“Gladly.” Elizabeth bobbed a curtsy and set off for the part of the garden where Titania’s retinue remained. After a few steps she picked up her skirts, heedless of showing her ankles, and began to run.
DARCY TOOK OFF HISgreatcoat and laid it over Georgiana’s sleeping body. He had once again failed to protect her from Wickham. Her expression, even asleep, was pained. And all he could do was to try to keep her warm. He had failed her in so many ways.
Wickham, a sorcerer. It was still a struggle to believe, but in hindsight he could see the beginnings of a pattern. He had missed the signs.
A dryad glided up to Georgiana’s other side, carrying silken blankets and a pillow. Without looking at Darcy, she spread the blankets and gently placed the pillow beneath her head. The dryad brushed her fingertips over Georgiana’s closed eyelids.
Darcy felt the prickle of magic. “What are you doing to her?”
The dryad finally looked up at him. “It is to give her sweet dreams,” she said in a low, melodious voice.
Darcy glanced down at Georgiana’s face. She was smiling a little now and the look of pain was gone. He felt a wave of thankfulness towards the dryad, but it left him tongue-tied. What could he say when he was not allowed to thank her? “Your gift is a generous one.”
The dryad nodded and glided away. How did they move so smoothly?
Everything had been such a chaotic rush. It had been an ordinary day until Hobbes had brought him Biggins’s calling card. There was only one reason Biggins would call on Darcy, and that was if the Board of Inquiry had decided against him. The news that he had two other mageswith him only confirmed it. Darcy had grabbed what money he had at hand, escaped out the kitchen door under the concealment of illusion, and fled to Faerie.
A rush of wind struck his face as a bird flew a few feet away from him. A white raven, of course, who circled back to him, cawing frantically.
He was too tired and worried for this. “What is it, Pepper?”
Darcy put up his arms to defend himself as the raven flew straight at his face.
Pepper gave an exasperated caw and changed into a cat. She bit into his trousers and yanked at them.
“Pepper, I cannot go with you this time. I must stay with my sister.”
This time Pepper’s teeth reached his skin.
“Ow! Devil take it, Pepper!”
Pepper yanked at his trousers again.
Darcy held up a hand. “Just wait.” He stood up and waved to the dryad who had helped him. When she came closer, he asked, “Are you able to understand the language of phoukas? She wants me to go with her, but I cannot leave my sister.”
Pepper released his trousers and meowed.
The dryad nodded. “She says Libbet is in danger and needs you. Your mother’s brother is near death.” She paused to listen again. “There are dark magicians, and only fools left to fight them. Libbet is frightened.” She looked up at Darcy. “If you wish, I will watch over the girl. She is safe here.”
“I...you are kind.” And suddenly he knew it was true. He could feel Elizabeth’s fear as she leaned over his uncle and whispered something to him. How in God’s name had that knowledge come to him? “Can you take me there, Pepper?”
ELIZABETH WAS OUT OFbreath when she reached the bower. “Lord Matlock requires... Help. Sorcery. He is ill.” The young mage FitzClarence did not hesitate, dashing off in the direction she pointed.
Titania grasped Elizabeth’s arm tightly.
“No, I must return to him,” Elizabeth gasped. A moment later she and Titania were somehow standing at Lord Matlock’s side, and Elizabeth’s arm felt as if it had been yanked out of its socket.
Lord Matlock’s hand was pressed to his chest as he spoke weakly to Aelfric. “If I do not survive this... tell my son... tell him you are to have your pick of the horses in my stables. They are the finest in England.”
Titania leaned over Lord Matlock. “You are ill?”
“My heart,” he wheezed.
