“He did not send me! Merely told me to get the locks of hair and where they were. I did not want to betray you, great lady! You are the kindest, most generous lady, and I wish I could serve you all my days, but he has my babies.”
Jasper, with an expression of disgust, withdrew his blade, and the fae fell to the floor. “If you move from this spot, I will skewer you again.”
“Stop,” Elizabeth interrupted. “You said locks of hair. What other hair does he want?”
The fae fell silent, except for his whimpers of pain.
“Answer her,” Georgiana urged.
“All of you! I gave him yours already, and Lady Frederica’s.” He pointed with his good arm at Jasper. “And that man.” A crafty expression came over his face as he turned to Georgiana. “But, great lady, I never told him about your healing, your tears. I kept your confidence on that! I never told him anything about what I heard here.”
Elizabeth's stomach churned into a knot of nausea. The Wicked King had her hair, and God alone knew what he could do with it. It must have been no more than a moment's work for the little fae to steal it, since she did not have a dragon watching over her as she slept. “What else have you done for him? And what did he ask you to do?”
“Just to get your hair, especially those in the bloodline from the prophecy. Mr. Jasper, Lady Frederica, and the infant.”
She narrowed her eyes. If Jenny was on that list, why did it exclude her husband? “What of Mr. Darcy?”
“The High King said it was unnecessary, as he already has it,” the fae whimpered.
Georgiana straightened and caught Elizabeth's eye deliberately. “Yes. I gave it to him some time ago, and that is all we will say about it.”
Because Elizabeth already knew that Georgiana had substituted a lock of the late Mr. Darcy's hair for William's. And, apparently, she did not want this spy to know that. Could she be innocent in this?
“Great lady, I deserve nothing from you, less than nothing, but I beg this of your mercy. Pray slay me and return my body to the High King. Perhaps then he will release my little girls.”
Georgiana stood over him, looking down at him with a haughty expression that Elizabeth had never seen on her before. As if she were in truth a great lady, if not royalty. Even in a dressing gown and with her fair hair in a simple braid. Finally, after a long pause, she said, “I could do that, but it would not undo the terrible damage you have done, nor would it ensure the safety of those I love.”
The fae gulped, a portrait in despair. “I understand, great lady,” he said hopelessly. “I deserve no better.”
“I will, however, offer you a different choice.” Georgiana spoke almost idly. “If you will take a blood oath of loyalty to me, and to all those whom I call my family, and swear on your blood and your daughters never to serve anyone but me, then I will grant you this - that I will inform the High King that my lesser fae murdered you on discovering your treachery, and they burned your corpse as befits a traitor.”
He crept towards her, reaching out his hands but not daring to touch her. “Great lady, you are most gracious and merciful, even to the most unworthy. I will be honored to be your blood servant. I will swear it this minute, if you wish.”
“Not yet. You will be imprisoned until I am ready, but will not be treated unkindly.”
Elizabeth said, “Wait. I have more questions for him.” Her bare feet were freezing, but she was not going to miss this opportunity.
Georgiana said, “Obey her as you would me.”
“Yes, great lady! I will tell her anything she wishes, even my darkest secrets.”
Elizabeth most definitely did not want to know a fae's darkest secrets. “What is this bloodline you mentioned?”
“All the descendants of Ysmeina the Fair, madam. Those you call the Fitzwilliams.”
Goosebumps rose on her arms. Was that why the Wicked King was so interested in Pemberley? “You did not mention me on your list of the bloodline.”
“Forgive me, lady, but you only married one of the bloodline. You are not of Ysmeina’s blood.”
What did he mean? Granny was a Fitzwilliam, and Elizabeth had inherited her magery. But everyone here had thought Granny died when she ran away from home, at least until her Bennet descendants were discovered. Darcy and the Fitzwilliams knew the truth now, but it was not something they spoke of often. Could the fae have remained in ignorance?
If so, it was better to keep it that way. She did not want to draw the Wicked King’s attention to her sisters or their cousins in Wales. “Why does the High King care about Ysmeina’s bloodline?”
“Because of the prophecy. He has watched her descendants all these centuries, never once letting any of them out of his observation.”
Here it was, at last. “What is the prophecy?”
“Forgive me, lady, I do not know the exact words. He has kept it hidden. But everyone says it predicts his death because of the actions of one of her blood.”
