Granny tapped her finger on her knee. “The question, then, is how your sister is connected to the High King of Faerie.”
He turned up his hands. “This is the first I have heard of it. She does not appear to hold any loyalty towards Faerie. If anything, she seems afraid of it.”
“Why?”
“I have not asked her, as she prefers to avoid the subject. I hope I may depend upon you to keep the matter of her birth between us.”
Granny narrowed her eyes. “I will need to tell Sycamore, but dragons keep secrets better than any human.”
Elizabeth could stay silent no longer. Her outrage would not permit it. “Did you intend ever to tell me?”
He gave her a pleading look. “I planned to do so before leaving on my mission, since you will be her guardian if I do not return. I wanted you to come to know her as a mortal first, as I did.”
She was not ready to forgive him yet. Not even close. “You think you know everything, and you know so very little. Granny, what will Sycamore make of this?”
The old woman’s eyes became unfocused. “Sycamore will speak to you, but he wishes to learn more about the changeling.”
“Her name is Georgiana,” snapped Darcy.
The discussion with Sycamore did not go well.
At least the dragon spoke directly to Darcy now that the matter of the fae bond had been explained, but it was clear Sycamore still did not trust him. His many questions about the dragon massacre dripped with incredulity. Darcy had no patience for it, not when Elizabeth was standing there with hurt and anger in her eyes. And he did not even want to think about how she would treat Georgiana now that she knew the truth. Most people feared and detested changelings.
Finally Lady Amelia interrupted. “Sycamore, I understand your reluctance to believe any dragon could behave in such an unnatural manner as to fight in battle, but there have been mad dragons in the past. Yes, humans can lie, but I assure you that the government would never admit to such a thing unless they were absolutely certain of their facts, and they are quite skilled in intelligence-gathering.”
The dragon made a snorting sound. “The Wicked King, may his eyes be pecked by vultures, is fully able to perform a deception of this level. Why should I believe this man’s word when he is no friend to dragons and unwilling to have his thoughts read?”
It was beyond enough. Darcy said, “Why should I believe yours? My brother was killed by dragonfire in the charge at Salamanca, and you think I should allow you to rummage around in my mind?”
Sycamore sat back on his haunches. In a gentler tone, he said, “I am sorry about your brother. I assure you no dragon in their right mind would ever commit such a horrendous crime, but that does not change your loss. If you are so certain of the truth of your story, why will you not allow me to read you so that I can see the evidence?”
He should not say it. He absolutely should not. But Elizabeth was angry at him and the dragon was calling him a liar, and he had no restraint left. “Because other dragons and sea serpents are working for Napoleon, and I have no reason to believe you would not report to him as well. The information in my mind could cost thousands of lives. I will not risk it.”
A small puff of smoke escaped from the dragon’s nostrils as he swung his head towards Lady Amelia. “This man does not understand dragons,” he growled.
Had Jack seen similar smoke coming from the dragons in the moments before he was lashed by dragonfire?
“Of course he does not,” she said irritably. “That is what happens when you hide your existence for hundreds of years. People are left ignorant of what you are.”
The dragon turned back to Darcy. “I answer to no human except my companion, and certainly not to one who wages wars. Since you will not be read, I cannot assess the truth of your claims. If you require a more personal motivation, should you persist in this attitude of hostility to dragons, no Nest will allow your wife to take her final vows.”
A gasp came from Elizabeth, and she turned her face away.
Lady Amelia made a clucking noise. “Enough, both of you. I am tired. We will try again another day, when feelings are not running so high.”
Darcy drew in a breath to protest, but it was pointless. What difference did it make if the dragons did not believe him? There was no point in wasting time on this when he needed to talk to Elizabeth. Alone.
“Ah, I hoped I would see you tonight,” said Granny with satisfaction as Elizabeth entered her bedroom. A small table was set up in front of the fireplace, and two footmen were carrying in trays of food.
“So Cerridwen told me,” Elizabeth replied. “I had assumed you might be too tired for company, but I am happy to be proved wrong.” As if the word happy could even apply to her now. Was it only that morning, in this very room, that she been delighted by the prospect of a dragon boon that could save his life?
“Dining in my chamber is one of the few benefits of extreme old age. Spending two hours over a formal dinner making social chit-chat is a waste of time and energy. I hope your husband will not object to your abandoning him to join me?” There was a touch of challenge in her words.
Elizabeth shrugged as she took a seat at the table. “I did not ask him.” She had not the least desire to hear his opinion on the matter. Or on anything else. She helped herself to several dishes.
“Good for you! Do not let him dominate you.”
Not a lesson she was in any danger of forgetting at the moment, nor one that she wished to discuss. “Are you certain this is not too tiring for you?”
