Page 94 of Triumph at Pemberley

If his usually fearless – and fearsome – dragon did not want to speak of something, it must be very bad indeed. “What did the letter say?”

To his shock, Mrs. Hartung’s face crumpled. What could upset her so much? She had kept her composure through one crisis after another, even when facing Prinny himself.

He ached to fix whatever had distressed her so much, but all he could do was to take her hand, and even that small effort tired him. “What is the matter?”

“So much suffering! All those soldiers and innocent people burnt to death, and all because…” She drew in a ragged breath. “Gentiane showed it to me. That horrible battlefield. He poured his memories into me so I could write it down. Especially the part about him.”

Alarm built in him. “What happened?”

“He took down one of the attacking dragons. Came down on him from above and bore him to the ground, and then ripped information from his mind.” She hesitated. “He regrets that, I think, but he was frightened for you.”

He could picture it, Gentiane falling from the sky on a smaller dragon. Gentiane was older and larger than most dragons with companions, the only ones who could travel far from their Nests. But stealing into another dragon’s mind? That was a shock. “What did he learn?”

“The dragons were from the Isle of Skye in Scotland. A wandering mage came to their Nest, injured and begging for help. Once they took him in, he used an Artifact to trick several of them into killing. That put them in thrall to the High King of Faerie, who ordered them to serve Napoleon. Jack, that poor dragon was in terrible agony. I could feel it. But he had also massacred all those innocent soldiers!”

Jack’s mouth was dry despite the tea in his hand. “He would have had no choice, once he was under the High King’s control. The dragons call him the Wicked King, and to be forced into his service is their worst nightmare.” Then the meaning of her words sank in. “Wait – are you certain the Wicked King ordered them to obey Napoleon?”

“Yes, that was clear. It makes sense in a way; how could Napoleon have such success without backing from Faerie?” Sorrow filled her voice.

“We have suspected it for some time, but this is the first proof.” Proof he had hoped would never come. But a mage with the ability to bind dragons – that was frightening news. He had to warn them. “I must send word to Pemberley right away.”

“Already done. The letters Gentiane had me write – I sent one to your brother and another to Lady Frederica, though I had no address for her beyond ‘somewhere in Gwynedd.’ I asked them to bring the news to the Nests. I enclosed one of Gentiane’s scales, imbued with some of his memories, as proof, so I hope they will believe me.”

“The dragons will,” he said grimly. Back in the French Nest, that had been the constant question – how did Napoleon force dragons to serve him? They would have given anything for an answer. “My thanks for all you have done.”

“It was my honor to help.” She fell silent, and then added hesitantly, “I always thought dragons were supposed to be gentle and kind, but your Gentiane – he feels hard.”

“He was different once.” Jack had not known the dragon well during his many months trapped in the French Nest, but Gentiane had generally been considered genial and clever. “He changed after he had to flee his Nest. He has never forgotten those he left behind, the ones who were too old to leave and who are either dead or enslaved now.”

Something in her shifted then, and she nodded slowly. “I understand his anger, then. I know what it means to lose a home and those we love, solely to serve Napoleon’s ambitions.”

A peremptory knock sounded at the door. She rolled her eyes. “That will be the royal physician. Ignore him; he wanted to bleed and purge you when your injury was obviously magical.”

“Then the king knows I am here?”

“Everyone knows. It is hard to disguise a huge dragon landing in Grosvenor Square carrying two seriously injured men.” She sounded annoyed. “It practically caused a riot. Now the house is surrounded by guards, and even some on the roof. The government is taking no chances with you.”

Protecting him, or imprisoning him? Fatigue overtook him, and he leaned his head back again.

Chapter 37

As Darcy rode up to the house, a carriage stood in front of the portico, its door hanging open. What were the footmen thinking, to be standing around instead of closing it?

Or had something gone terribly wrong?

Then he saw what they were looking at. A litter, lying on the ground. A man on it, moaning. Elizabeth knelt beside it with tears running down her cheeks, wringing her hands. The face… oh, good God, his flesh was raw and torn from forehead to chin, his hair half-burned away.

Darcy jumped off Hercules, leaving the reins hanging, and raced over. “What happened?” he demanded. But as Elizabeth lifted her head, he could make out the other side of the newcomer’s face, the unburned one.

Richard.

His cousin, childhood companion, and lifelong friend. Frederica and Jasper’s brother.

He had to do something. Coquelicot! he called silently, sending her the image before him.

Almost there. Companion Elizabeth already sent for me.

Darcy squatted down on Richard’s other side, trying to fix his gaze on the unburned side of his face, away from the oozing flesh of the other. Tiny gasps of pain escaped his cousin. Had Richard traveled all the way to Pemberley like that? He must be in agony.