Page 127 of Triumph at Pemberley

That explained why she was no longer at the cottage. Darcy said, “I appreciate the help.”

“So do I,” said Elizabeth.

Darcy frowned, seeing the scrape on her cheek. “But you are hurt, too.”

“Not much now. Coquelicot did a quick healing on my arm and ankle, which were the worst of it, and said she would get to the rest later. She is distressed by the loss of Sycamore.”

She must be, since ordinarily nothing would stop her from healing. He spotted the ruby dragon across the clearing, in close conference with her nestmates. As soon as he could walk, he would go to her. “What happened to you?”

With an ironic twist to her lovely mouth, Elizabeth said, “I learned several important lessons. First, a Gate-opener apparently can go through a Gate twice and live. Second, never open a Gate to the top of a tree, because then you need to come down. The hard way, as it happened. And third, apparently my ruby Artifact, prevents me from being stabbed. But a hard blow from a knife still hurts, even if it cannot penetrate. I will have bruises!”

Her Artifact protected her from stab wounds? It truly was beyond price. If only he had known! “What of Ysmeina’s Cuff? Why did you not use it on Napoleon?”

“It would not let me! That cuff has a mind of its own. It protected me from Napoleon taking over my mind, though, for which I am most grateful.”

A sudden breeze swept across them as the dragons took flight. Flying rapidly, and heading north, not towards the Nest.

Darcy watched after them. “Where do you suppose they are going?”

“I do not know. Cerridwen had another vision.” She looked troubled. “She is not listening to me now.”

“We will find out in due time,” the midwife said briskly. “For now, we must get you well enough to return to the house.”

The idea of walking down the steep hill made him wince. “Perhaps we should send for my horse.”

“Georgiana could ask one of her fae to go,” Elizabeth said. “And to tell everyone it is safe to return to Pemberley.” Her voice shook a little on the last words. “Safe. I still cannot quite believe it!”

Nor could he. There were still many things to do. Finding Jack and returning Pemberley from a war footing to something resembling normal life, but that was manageable. The government would have a bigger job, mopping up the remaining French troops and rebuilding the towns destroyed by Napoleon.

And he and Elizabeth could finally be simply a happily married couple, working on building a life together instead of desperately fighting Napoleon.

It was inconceivable. And joyous.

Then the all-too-familiar chiming voice of the Wicked King floated from cross the clearing. “How very kind of you to leave this door open for me, after all your efforts to keep me away.”

Chapter 48

The High King of Faerie lounged against the remaining Dragon Stone, one leg casually crossed over the other like a dandy at a ball. His two lynxes in their ruby-studded collars prowled by his side.

And behind him, a dozen hulking armored fae guards poured through the Gate.

Horror flooded Darcy with memories of his time trapped in the tower. Having his freedom stolen, his mind violated, being forced to betray Georgiana.

No! Not again. This time he would defend his family. The Wicked King could not kill him without breaking his vow to Ysmeina the Fair. He might still imprison Darcy or carry him off to Faerie, or worse, force him to watch while the people he loved suffered.

But for now, he could draw attention away from Elizabeth and the others. He strode forward, placing himself between them and the Wicked King. Hiding his exhaustion, he demanded, “What do you want of us?” He drew his sword, more for the protection of the iron in it than any hope he could fight.

The Wicked King flicked a fingertip. Faster than Darcy could raise his weapon, two guards raced towards him and tackled him to the ground, knocking the wind out of him.

He could not breathe, much less move, with two armored fae pinning him to the ground. One rolled him to his side and wrenched his arms behind him, then hauled him to his feet.

Desperately he fought to inhale, his vision already growing dark at the edges. Finally he managed to suck in a breath.

He tried to yank his hands free, but that only made the fae tighten his already painful grip. Sharp-tipped fingernails dug into Darcy’s wrist like little knives. So much for not harming him.

Fighting back was a waste of energy. He needed to think. There had to be a way to keep his family safe.

Darcy tried to twist his head to look for Elizabeth behind him, but the guard held him too tightly. What was she doing? He prayed she would not try to fight. These odds were insurmountable.