Darcy did not pause at the door to Jack's chamber, lest even a knock would trigger the binding. He simply opened the door and barged in, with Richard in tow.
Jack lay sprawled on the bed, sound asleep. Darcy shook his shoulder. “Jack, wake up, and tell Richard you are not dead.”
All the color had drained from Richard's face, but he froze only for a moment before striding forward and seizing Jack's arm. “Damn you, is this true? We thought you were dead! I was at your funeral!”
Jack rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Are you damning me for being aliveor dead?” he inquired groggily.
“Both!” Richard roared. “And you, Darcy! Why did you say nothing? You practically gave me an apoplexy, dragging me in here without any warning!”
With a half-smile, Darcy tipped his head towards Jack, tapping his lips.
“Oh, right,” Jack said. “A stupid binding from a dead dragon. He cannot tell anyone I am alive.”
“Dragons again? I should have known,” Richard complained.
“I was their prisoner since Salamanca. Not that they were ever unkind.”
Richard scowled. “What did they do to you?”
Jack yawned. “Rescued me, imprisoned me, bonded me to one of their own, and set me free. Darcy, if you are going to rouse me out of a sound sleep, at least send for some coffee!”
Darcy did so, and when there was next a break in the conversation, he asked, “Richard, what is the latest word from France?”
His cousin scowled. “Nothing good. The Corsican bastard has defeated the Tyrolean rebels and is on his way back to Paris and thence to Boulogne, where his army and his ships await.”
Jack asked urgently, “How long do we have?”
“If he races his armies along at their fastest marching speed and the winds lie fair, perhaps a month. If he takes his time, perhaps two or three months. If he waits much longer than that, he risks running into storms. His invasion ships are no more than barges; they would not survive a major blow.”
One to three months, then, and still so much to do in preparation. As much as he would like to stay for Jack's sake, it was time to go back to Pemberley.
Roderick threw his jacket on the bed, an uncharacteristic departure from his usual tidiness. “I wish I could help for your sake,” he said. “But I cannot betray my own country.”
“I am not asking you to reveal your own King’s Bond, just to talk to Jack. Tell him about it as if you learned it from old stories. He needs your knowledge.”
“It will make no difference. Without someone to awaken the Bond, his abilities will be barely stronger than a land Talent. And it would only draw unnecessary attention to me.”
“Do you not want to stop Napoleon? Awakening his Bond is our best hope!” How often had they repeated this argument in the last few days? This stood like a wall between them, for all that they were sharing a bed at his inn.
“Of course I want to stop Napoleon, though mostly for the sake of our dragons. Otherwise, let him overrun England; he will be no worse an overlord in Gwynedd than the British. And I cannot hand a weapon like the King’s Bond to a country that has mistreated my own for centuries. I wish I had never told you that the Bond needs awakening!”
That hurt. She already knew he regretted telling her about his Bond, even though she had kept her word scrupulously. It was driving her mad, though.
Jack’s life and England’s future depended on Roderick, and he simply did not care.
Her helplessness made her lash out. “At least once Napoleon sends me to the guillotine, you can console yourself by marrying a Welsh girl in good conscience, just as you always planned.”
He closed his eyes, clearly trying to control his own temper. “This is not about you and me. Quickthorn will carry you off if you are in any danger.”
“Because there is nothing I would like better than to live out my life scrubbing floors in a Nest in Norway!” she snapped.
Roderick tried to take her hands, but she pulled them away. “Frederica, nothing has changed. We knew from the very beginning that we had no future.”
It was true, but at the same time, she could not accept it. Not now, after this second chance with Roderick had only deepened her love, even when he was difficult and stubborn. Surely there had to be some way out of this, something that would allow them to be together. Because they were stronger together than apart.
Something that would make Gwynedd safe from England, but also gave Jack the King’s Bond. An alliance like that could truly have a chance against Napoleon. A treaty would not do; England had broken far too many treaties with Wales already. It had to be something different, and she would not rest until she found it.
“You may have accepted that,” she said fiercely, “but I have not.”
