“Not yet. The fae could still be there,” Roderick said harshly,
“I do not care!” Frederica ducked to crawl under the crossed swords and ran to her brother's side.
Cerridwen's voice spoke in Elizabeth's head.We have him!
Elizabeth said through dry lips, “He is with the dragons. I will fetch help.” And she ran to the stairs, calling to the servants for assistance before she even reached the landing.
Ice coursed through Darcy’s veins. How could this have happened? He had risked his life every day in France, but they were supposed to be safe at Pemberley. And now his youngest cousin, the finest swordsman in England, lay dying before him.
He had carried Jasper down to his bedroom, where he lay gasping for breath, his chest making a terrible sucking sound with each inhalation. His lips were blue-tinged.
Frederica bent over him, clasping his hand as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Don't you dare die, Jasper. Don't you dare!”
Somehow Jasper managed a sort of smile. “It was worth it. Best fight of my life,” he said between gasps.
Mrs. Sanford had finished her examination of his wound. She covered his bare chest with the sheet and came over to stand by Darcy and Elizabeth.
“Well?” he asked. Not that he wanted to hear the answer.
She sighed. “I was able to reduce his pain a little, but this is beyond me. If we all pool our healing abilities, we might be able to close the externalwound, but the lung would still be pierced. It could buy him a little time, but it would make no difference in the end.”
It felt like the knife was in his own chest now. “What about the dragons?” he asked Elizabeth. “Could Cerridwen heal him?”
She shook her head. “I already asked. All three of them are too young to do healings, though she says it is possible Quickthorn might be able to give him some energy, since Jasper is Frederica's brother and shares her blood. Rana Akshaya, who has the ability, is off at the Nest, but her servants say she will not do it because of the price.”
“What price?” Darcy asked. “I will pay anything.”
Frederica turned her head to look at them. “Apparently healings are harmful to the dragons. They must use some of their life force to do it, which means shortening their own lives. So they will only do it under extraordinary circumstances.”
Roderick, who had a completely improper hand resting on Frederica’s shoulder, added, “Rowan, on Lady Frederica’s behalf, has already left for the Nest to see if anyone there is willing to undertake it. She asked for no boon when she became a companion, so she is owed something. He seemed to think it was unlikely to work, but agreed to try.”
It made no sense. Coquelicot, the French dragon who had healed Darcy's wounds, had seemed perfectly happy to do it. If it had cost her anything, it was not apparent. Were dragons in France so different? With his healing under a binding that he could not break, he could not even ask about it.
It did not matter; Coquelicot was as far out of reach as the moon. And Jasper was dying.
Georgiana burst into the room, her face stricken. She was followed by half a dozen of her lesser fae. He could see that many, at least; who knew how many more might be invisible. She threw herself down beside Jasper's bed. “They just told me.” Her voice quavered. “Is it true?”
Jasper coughed, a horrid bubbling noise. “'Fraid so. Sorry. A good way to go, though.”
“No!” Georgiana burst into uncontrollable sobs, burying her face in Jasper's shoulder.
Darcy turned back to Mrs. Sanford. God, but he hated to ask this. “If we try our healing, might it give him enough time that we could send for his family in Matlock? If they rushed, they might be here by late tomorrow.” If they were even there. Lord Matlock was usually in London, but his eldest son, Jasper's brother, was often at the estate. “Roderick is a very powerful mage, if that makes a difference.”
The midwife bit her lip. “It is worth a try, but I make no guarantees.”
“Understood.”
Jasper groaned. “Ow, Georgie, that burns!” And then his body convulsed.
Darcy raced to his side, though there was nothing he could do. Jasper's limbs thrashed once, twice, three times. He leaned forward, pressing his hands to Jasper's leg to stop it - only to be thrown backwards by a powerful force.
He barely kept his balance. What had that been? Was Jasper's latent mage blood showing itself somehow at his last moments?
It must have affected Frederica, too. She had dropped her brother's hand and been knocked away. Now she was staring down at her palm as if it had somehow betrayed her.
Jasper lay still. Was he gone? But no, his chest was still rising and falling, if anything more evenly now. And the blue tinge was gone from his lips.
What in God's name had happened?
