But was it possible they should not have fought? Had his experience in France led him to see a danger when there was none?
The others had seen it as a threat, too. Roderick, the dragons, and Jasper had all responded the same way.
Slowly he said, “I am glad you told me this. It felt like an attack on all of us. Though only the one High Fae broke through, he came at the head ofa battalion. Quickthorn chased them off with dragonfire until we could raise the wards again, or we would have been overrun.”
Georgiana blanched. “I do not know why they would do that, but even so, pray do not go into battle on my behalf. The risk is too high.”
Elizabeth said, “I have wondered if they might have another target. Do you know who the prophesied one is, Georgiana?”
The girl blinked. “No. What prophecy?”
Darcy caught Elizabeth's eye before she continued, and she nodded slightly. No, she had told no one about the prophecy Cerridwen had made over baby Jenny. They had agreed to keep it a secret.
“I do not know,” Elizabeth said. “The intruder asked Jasper if he was the prophesied one. Apparently he could not fight him if he was, but as soon as Jasper said his name, the High Fae said he could kill him, then. What I want to know is whoisthe prophesied one, andwhy is it so important?” She fixed her gaze on Georgiana.
Georgiana spread her hands. “Do you think he meant me?”
“You are the one who bears the closest resemblance to Jasper, at least in coloration.”
It was true; Georgiana shared Jasper's golden-haired good looks, whereas Darcy took after his dark father. “The fae seem to have no difficulty telling men from women, though. It seems more likely to me that he was looking for a man,” he said.
Clearly that was not what Elizabeth had hoped to hear. “Then you must be the prophesied one.”
“Or Roderick,” offered Georgiana. “He is a more powerful mage than Darcy, a dragon companion, and in his own lands they consider him a prince.”
Once again, Darcy caught Elizabeth's gaze in surprise. How did Georgiana know that? Roderick did everything in his power to keep it quiet. But Georgiana's invisible fae were everywhere, and who knew what they might be reporting to her?
He did not like this, and he definitely did not want to be the subject of some fae prophecy. He would happily cede that honor to Roderick or anyother man. And he did not approve of giving Elizabeth one more thing to worry about. “So far all we know about the prophesied one is that the High Fae was not permitted to kill him. Which is, I suppose, preferable to the alternative. Let us not borrow trouble.” But he fully intended to ask Roderick about this first thing tomorrow. One prophecy about his family was more than enough.
In the morning, Roderick was nowhere to be found. The butler told Darcy he had ridden out that morning, with no indication of where he was going or when he would return. It was annoying, but it was not as if Darcy lacked other things he needed to do.
Like attending to the mountain of correspondence that had piled up while he was in France. Or writing his overdue full report to the War Office. He had sent the briefest of missives to Cattermole on his first day back, scribbled on a rickety table outside the cottage where Elizabeth had been laboring, saying only that he was home safely.
Instead, he asked for Hercules to be saddled and headed out to the moor. The pungent smell of smoke greeted him even before he arrived on the blackened plain.
Today it was peaceful, with only the sound of wind whistling through the open space. A few sheep had made their way back to the green verges, although it would be months before the burnt expanse recovered enough to provide grazing for them. A bird pecked at the ground in search of its next meal, while a hawk soared overhead. Darcy watched it for a moment, wondering if it might be a dragon in disguise, but the odds were against it. There were far more hawks than dragons.
He rubbed his shoulder, still sore from the fae spell arrow. Even if he had somehow repelled the magic it bore, it had left an uncomfortable bruise. Minor, but a vivid reminder that someone hadshothim, here on his ownland. If it had been an ordinary arrow, he would be dead. Elizabeth would be a widow today.
He dismounted and tossed Hercules' reins in a gorse bush that had survived the flames. Sending his Talent into the earth, he reached out to find the wards.
There they were, a golden glow circling around to both sides. He walked up to the edge of the line, careful not to put even a foot over. Roderick had been clear that the spelled arrow could only hit him because he had been outside the wards. Of course, there was no reason to think the wards would stop a nonmagical bullet, if one of those French assassins decided to make their way to this desolate place. Not likely, though; they were probably watching the gates.
The undulating moors reached out for miles, now painted black with broad swathes of charred foliage.
He poured some of his Talent down into the earth, giving it energy to help it regenerate. It was received gratefully, but the land was remarkably untroubled by the damage. There had been wildfires on the moors before, and they always recovered, the vegetation often stronger than ever. Apparently the land did not care if a dragon had set it afire rather than a lightning strike. Under the ground it was still alive with insects and roots ready to send up new plants.
Yet just yesterday, they had fought a battle here. The land might not be disturbed by it now, and yet everything had changed. His safe haven of Pemberley was now a target.
And so was he.
Elizabeth jumped at the sound of something scratching at her window. Not another fae intruder, please heaven! Then the noise resolved into a familiar pecking.
She hurried over to open the window, cold air pouring in. The familiar kestrel shape, today bedraggled by rain, tumbled into the room with far less than her usual grace.
Elizabeth instantly knelt beside her. “Cerridwen, dearest, what are you doing here? Are you not wounded? I thought you had to stay at the Nest!”
“Step back so I can transform,” the bird squawked irritably.
