Page 85 of Triumph at Pemberley

“I do not remember the details. All my attention was on his words.” Again, that sense of vagueness.

“In a tent? Out on the field? What was he wearing?” She was unsure what she was chasing, but there was something.

“I...in his tent. I think.”

Roderick leaned towards her and whispered, “What are you doing? I know Huw well, and he is completely trustworthy.”

She sent back to him. Unless a dragon has been at his mind. Something is wrong. He is telling the truth, but not the truth.

He frowned, but nodded slowly. But she could hardly miss the suspicious glances coming from his stepmother, no doubt wondering how an Englishwoman dared question one of their own.

She decided to try a different tack. “What were you doing when you were summoned to his bedside?”

The man’s face cleared. “I was scouting at the shore. Walking south, staying behind cover where I could. The largest of the French ships had vanished, so we spread out to find it.” In this he was completely confident. He sounded like a different person.

She leaned forward. “Had it sailed away?”

“No one saw it go. I was searching to see if it was past the point, right where your father said you’re to go.” He nodded to Roderick.

“Did you make it that far?” she asked.

“It was a hard slog, with the tide coming in. I made it, though, and then...then...” He blinked owlishly at her, then put his hands to each side of his head, shaking it back and forth, his mouth moving as though he wished to speak. He sank down to his knees.

Roderick jumped forward and crouched beside him, putting a hand on his arm and saying something urgently in Welsh. The messenger did not seem to even notice he was there.

Her mind was racing. Darcy had said Napoleon seized control of his mind, making him believe things that were not true. Could the French dragon have done the same?

She sent the question to Quickthorn, whose resultant shock made her shiver. Then she turned to Roderick. “Quickthorn is coming. She says not to ask him any more questions until she arrives.”

Roderick, with as close to a snap as she had ever heard in his voice, said, “I must know what has happened to my father. If he needs me, I have to go.”

His stepmother spoke for the first time. “Not until we know if it is a trap.”

Huw was still shivering and apparently unable to speak when Quickthorn’s peregrine falcon form flew into the hall a few minutes later, accompanied by a smaller merlin who went straight to Huw’s side. The Welshman shrunk away from it, an odd reaction in this dragon-loving country.

The merlin climbed Huw’s arm until it could lay its head against his cheek. Frederica’s skin tingled as dragon magic filled the room.

And abruptly ended. The falcon took wing, circled the room, and landed in her own form in front of them. She rubbed her forelegs over her snout, as if trying to remove an invisible stain. “He has been influenced, and his memory is impaired. He tastes of mad dragon, with a tinge of the Wicked King,” she said with obvious distaste. “A dragon in service to Napoleon.”

Roderick said, “Can you remove the influence and restore his memory?”

“I have not the experience to do it,” the small dragon whispered.

Quickthorn said, “I can try. I have seen it before.” Haltingly she moved closer to Huw, as if reluctant to touch him. She raised her talons to the Welshman’s cheeks, and magic swept past Frederica once more, this time with the familiar flavor of Quickthorn.

Huw’s eyes flew open, with a dawning terror filling his face as the dragon finished its ministrations.

Roderick rubbed the man’s arm. “You are safe now. Can you tell me what happened?”

Inside her head, Frederica heard him say something different. Can you take my stepmother out of the room? He will speak more easily if he is alone with me.

How she wanted to know what he would say! But Roderick would tell her later, and if she had learned one thing here, it was that people in Gwynedd were reluctant to show any weakness in front of an Englishwoman. She tapped on Angharad’s arm and said quietly, “Roderick wants us to leave.”

Her new mother-in-law did not seem surprised by this, though her mouth twisted as if she had eaten something sour. Still, she followed Frederica out into the next room. As soon as she shut the door behind her, she demanded, “What trick is this? How did you know something was wrong with him?”

Frederica put on her best social smile. “Intuition, mostly. I have dealt with several people under compulsions and bindings, and he reminded me of them. A sort of distance and lack of spirit, if that makes sense. It made me wonder.”

“You were right.” Her mouth twisted, as if she disliked having to admit it. “Roderick would have ridden into a trap.”