“What is going on?” she demanded.
Roderick moistened his lips. “What is happening to Jack – it is all wrong for a standard land bond. It is what happens when the King’s Bond forms. But why him?”
Darcy’s jaw dropped. That was exactly what Lady Catherine de Bourgh had designed Jack to be – the magical heir to the old kings of England. But he could not tell them that. “How do you know? The King’s Bond rite was lost with the death of Queen Elizabeth.”
“I… It is…” Roderick floundered, tugging at his cravat and staring at Frederica as if somehow she should know the answer.
Frederica said briskly, “They still tell the old stories in Wales of how the ancient mage-kings made the King’s Bond.”
They were up to something, Frederica and Roderick, but that did not matter, not now, with Jack lying insensible before him. He had no time for their games. “I do not care what sort of bond it is. Will he survive?” he asked urgently.
“It is a risky business, the King’s Bond, but I never heard of deaths coming from it. The worst outcome is that the land rejects him. Likely he would have to leave England if that happened,” said Roderick.
Another way to lose his brother. “Why is he unconscious? Should we do something?” Damn it, Darcy wanted to fix this.
“It is just what happens. It might be an hour or a day, or even more. The only thing to do is to trust the land. It has been doing this for thousands of years.”
But this washis brother. At least in spirit. Who had far more royal blood than Frederica and Roderick knew. Now Jack might have access to the long-lost mage power behind the throne, too. The idea made Darcy’s mouth go dry. He reached out a hand to Jack’s shoulder.
“Do not touch him!” Roderick said. “In fact, we should all back away. Our presence may interfere with the bonding.”
“Just leave him here alone?” Darcy could not believe that.
“He is not alone,” said Roderick somberly. “If the bonding holds, he will never be alone again. And I daresay Gentiane will keep watch over him.”
“I will,” said the black dragon. “And you, Welshman. I wish to hear more from you about this King’s Bond.”
Unwilling to let Jack out of his sight, Darcy retreated only a short distance to sit on a painfully hard marble bench, his spirits in turmoil. A little farther off, he could see Frederica arguing with Roderick, gesticulating broadly at him as he shook his head. Finally she threw up her hands and stalked over to Darcy.
He moved to one side to make room for her on the bench.
She sat down with a huff. “Men!”
“What did Roderick do now?”
“Nothing! Trying to get him to answer a question is like attempting to milk a pig. No, he cannot be certain that it is the King’s Bond, but he only knows of two types of land bond, the ordinary kind and the King’s Bond. Has he ever heard of any other? No, but that does not mean there is not one. Can someone who is not the heir to the throne have the King’s Bond? He has heard of it happening, though usually with a king’s bastard instead of his right-born heir, not someone outside the lineage, but that does notmean it cannot happen. After all, King Arthur got his King’s Bond when the Lady of the Lake rose from the waters and handed him Excalibur, so what do we know?” She blew out a frustrated breath.
What would have happened if Arthur had told the Lady of the Lake that this was all a mistake, and he did not want an enchanted sword or the King’s Bond? No one ever told that tale. But Darcy was certain that Jack would not be happy to have this bond imposed upon him.
“Do you suppose we should tell Lady Anne what is happening?” Frederica asked.
It was Darcy’s turn to huff. “No. She is the last person Jack would wish to have involved.” Or perhaps the second to last, after Lady Catherine. “There was an unpleasant scene just before this.”
“Oh, dear. What happened now?”
Suddenly Darcy wanted to tell her. Rather, he wished he could tell Elizabeth, but she was far away, and he simply could not keep it to himself any longer, the memories racing around his head like mad horses. “Apparently she is not his mother after all. She has only been pretending he is her child.”
“Are you serious?” breathed Frederica. “No, I cannot believe it. He has the Fitzwilliam look.”
“That is from his true mother, whom we came here to stop, who buried his afterbirth here with full rites. And you can guess who his father must be.” Even now he could not bring himself to say it aloud.
Frederica rocked back and forth on the bench, her face hidden in shadows. Finally she said, “For the first time in my life, I am honestly speechless. Though I suppose that would explain the King’s Bond.”
Something inside Darcy broke. “And what inhellare we to do about it?” he said savagely. Then, after a deep breath, he forced himself to add, “Forgive my language.”
“Darcy, this night not only excuses profanity; it practically requires it. I wish Elizabeth were here.”
“So do I.” He ached for the comfort of her presence. Especially when it felt like he was losing Jack again just after finding him once more.
