“It would be my pleasure,” Elizabeth said. “May I present my husband, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, and his sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy? Miss Darcy has offered to answer any questions you may have about her, er, background.”
Darcy strove to keep his face impassive. This was a waste of time. The dragons had made it clear that he was persona non grata, and he returned the sentiment heartily. What could Georgiana say that would change anything?
“What would you like to know?” Georgiana asked, her voice a little higher than usual. She was clearly uncomfortable, too. Devil take it, why had Elizabeth not left well enough alone?
The dragon studied her. “You are fae, despite your present form?”
Georgiana lifted her chin. “The body you see me in is mortal, but my blood is fae.”
What? She wasmortal?
“Are you of fae descent, then?” asked the dragon.
She shook her head. “I was created, not born.”
Darcy caught his breath. Created? What did that mean, and why had she never told him any of this? Elizabeth’s voice echoed in his memory –You think you know everything, and youknow so very little.
The dragons, though, seemed unperturbed by this news. “You have the scent of the Wicked King, whom mortals call the High King,” the dragon rumbled.
Georgiana’s lips pursed, as if she had eaten something distasteful. “He is the one who created me, using his own blood and essence and a lock of human hair.”
The dragon seemed unsurprised. “The first dragons were made in a similar manner. What is your present connection to the Wicked King?”
She glanced in Darcy’s direction. “Elizabeth said you could read my memories. I would rather not speak them aloud.”
The dragon lapsed into silence. Conferring mentally with the others, perhaps? Finally he said, “I regret we cannot honor your request. Without understanding your connection to the Wicked King, I cannot be certain he will not perceive me in your mind. It would be unwise for us to draw his attention.”
Georgiana paled. “He can hear my thoughts?” Her voice shook.
The dragon’s fluting voice softened. “That is unlikely, child, but my intrusion might catch his notice.”
Darcy stared. Why was the dragon speaking so gently when he had made it clear Georgiana was his enemy?
“I hate him!” she cried. “I detest and abhor him! I wish I could…I could spit him through and roast him alive over a fire!”
A wave of calm seemed to emerge from the dragon. “Child, do not wish death even upon your worst enemy. It is your own soul that pays the price.”
“I have no soul.” Tears shone in her eyes. “I am nothing but a tool he created, no different from a hammer or a plow.”
Darcy’s stomach twisted in a knot. Did she truly believe that?
Cerridwen clawed at the ground. “She does have a soul. I have heard it.”
The larger dragon turned to her. “Explain yourself, Nestling.”
Cerridwen spread her wings wide, her chest expanding, as if she were about to declaim or perhaps to sing. What came out was not the dragon’s voice, though, but the tinkling music of an invisible pianoforte, playing one of Georgiana’s compositions. The notes flooded through the air, anexact replica. Apparently dragons truly did have perfect recall, but how could she produce that sound?
The dragons listened attentively. When the music ended, the large one asked Georgiana, “That is your music?”
Georgiana stiffened. “I wrote it and played it, yes.”
“The nestling is correct. You do have a soul, child. Do not believe anyone who tells you otherwise.”
Georgiana pressed her hand over her eyes. “He says… He says he is my father and I must obey him. But I will not. I will not!”
“We dragons are living proof that the Wicked King’s creations can escape him,” the dragon said soothingly. “He built us to be machines of war and enslaved us when we refused to fight. But we escaped to this world, where he cannot touch us. As long as you stay out of Faerie, his only control over you is the power of persuasion, and you can close your ears to that.”
The dragon was slowly moving towards Georgiana, but there was no threat in its motion, only concern. When he reached her side, he held out his forelegs to her.
