Elizabeth stirred from sleepthe next morning to the sound of an argument outside.
“You cannot go in. Mrs. Darcy is still asleep,” growled one of the footmen.
“She will want to be awakened for this,” Roderick’s Welsh-accented voice responded, broken by heavy breathing. “Immediately.”
Elizabeth rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Roderick was not prone to dramatics. “Let him in,” she called, pulling the counterpane up to hide her nightdress.
The door burst open to reveal the Welshman in a dressing gown. Had he not even bothered to dress before leaving the house? But his broad grin told her this was not bad news.
“Darcy is at the French Nest,” he burst out. He bent over to hold his knees, clearly trying to recover from a run.
It was so unexpected she could not even take it in at first, and then joy began to radiate through her chest. Excited, she sat up. “What? Are you certain?”
“Rowan says so. The French Nest is sending their hatchlings here for safety, and one of them told him.” Roderick straightened and threw back his head. “Lord, what a relief!”
Chandrika’s hands pressed Elizabeth’s shoulders back. “You must lie down, Mrs. Darcy. You know what the midwife said.”
How could she lie back when she wanted to get up and dance, to embrace everyone in sight? Somehow she managed to obey. “What else do you know? When is he coming through the Gate? Tell me everything!”
Roderick’s gaze became unfocused. “Apparently there is some problem with sending him through the Gate. The hatchlings do not know what it was, but they all agree that the rescued Englishman helped them go through the Gate.”
Elizabeth clasped her hands together in front of her heart. Darcy was alive! “Is he well? Did they hurt him?”
The Welshman shook his head. “Rowan cannot tell. The hatchlings are very young and disoriented, in a new place among complete strangers, having left behind everyone they know. They likely would not be able to tell if a human was hurt… no, wait. One says he seemed to walk with no trouble, for what that is worth. Rowan will try to find out more, but first he must help the hatchlings settle.”
“Thank you, thank you! And pray tell Rowan how much this news means to me.” Tears of joy began to stream down her face, but she did not care who saw them. Her world was bright again, after days of darkness.
Cerridwen stirred from where she had slept by the hearth. “I will go and see if I can learn anything more.” She lumbered to her feet.
“A good idea,” said Roderick. “Though they may put you to work, too. Rowan says it is chaos there. They sent twenty hatchlings! It must be a huge Nest. I have no idea where we will put them all.”
Elizabeth’s mind finally began to work. “If they are sending all their young here, the situation there must be desperate.”
“Or simply a sensible precaution,” Roderick said. “They will not let anything happen to Darcy, in any case. Dragons always do their best to protect humans.”
He was alive and free. She would hold onto that with all her might.
Darcy heard nothing more from the healer dragon for four days, a time of what Jack referred to as utter chaos in the Nest, dragons hurrying back and forth about urgent business. Their auras weighed on Darcy, so much worry, sadness, and anger. Who could blame them, when they faced the real possibility that their home would be left a smoking ruin like the Nests in Austria and Spain? Not to mention the terror that Napoleon would trap them into becoming killers, enslaved to the High King of Faerie. They seemed confident that they could delay the soldiers for at least several weeks, but he was not privy to their plans. And no one would tell him how they intended to protect Jack if the worst happened.
No matter how much Darcy longed to get home to Elizabeth and never set foot in France again, he could not stand by doing nothing as the dragons poured their energy into defending the Nest, so he offered his assistance. Alongside Jack and a few of the human Kith who served the dragons, he helped to build defenses for the Nest, digging traps to catch intruders and creating piles of rocks which could be tumbled down into narrow valleys.
But no defenses could last forever, so the Nest was evacuating as many dragons as possible. When Jack was sent on missions to the towns below, Darcy assisted at the Gate, herding young nestlings through, some no bigger than a puppy. They were all going to the Dark Peak Nest, since changing the destination of the Gate would take more power than the Nest could afford to dedicate to it in these circumstances. And Darcy was glad to help, for some of those nestlings were carrying the message of his presence at the Nest, after the Eldest had refused to allow anything in writing to be sent through.
He envied each nestling that disappeared through the Gate, even as he wondered how the Dark Peak Nest would handle this unexpected influx. What was Elizabeth thinking of his absence? What if Coquelicot could not manage to find a way to send him through the Gate?
At last the healer dragon sent word to meet her in the Gate chamber. She waited there, a leather satchel beside her, her aura weighed down with fatigue. “Are you ready?”
He felt a new sympathy for her. She must have worked very hard to help him yet again. “I am.” Darcy glanced at Jack beside him. If only he could take his brother with him!
The dragon held out a stoppered glass vial whose contents swirled with iridescent ruby and amethyst. “First you must drink this. It may feel strange as you swallow it, but it will not harm you.”
He took the tiny bottle in his hand. Magic thrummed from within it. “Should I sip it or take it all at once?”
“Whichever you prefer.”
In for a penny, in for a pound. He opened the vial and swallowed it in one go.
It burned, like the intense heat of repulsion, but without pain. It tasted of the memory of free flight in open air, gliding off the mountain on giant wings, of the joy in seeing an autumn leaf bejeweled with dewdrops, of deep and abiding peace.
