More secrets, just when she had thought they were done with that. Elizabeth opened her mouth to make a retort, then closed it again. This day had been difficult enough, and Georgiana was already deeply upset. If Lady Catherine was no longer a risk, questions about her could wait until later.
“Will we be able to finish the wards today?” Elizabeth asked the peregrine falcon on Roderick’s shoulder.
Rowan glided to the ground and transformed, his currant-red scales gleaming against the dark green hedges, earning a gasp from the elderly gatekeeper who was hobbling out of the gatehouse. “Yes. Once the others are here, I will be able to close the circle.”
“Good.” Elizabeth had not been too concerned about the possibility of the High King coming to Pemberley until she had gone to Georgiana to ask about her fears. The girl had seemed less frightened once she was in her bedroom, and Elizabeth could recognize why: she had filled the space with iron. Candelabras and candlesticks everywhere, not a single one silver or brass, and none of them lit. Three different iron boot scrapers far from any exterior door where a boot might need to be scraped. A collection of birdornaments painted in bright colors, but the shape of the cast iron came through.
It was a room designed to be poisonous to fae, who could not bear the proximity of iron. How sad that poor Georgiana had to live her life in such anxiety!
When Elizabeth asked her what the High King had done, Georgiana said, “The first time he came to me was to tell me who I was and that he expected me to serve him. After that, he started asking for things. Information about Lady Anne, mostly, but I could not tell him much, since she refused to see me. That made him angry, and he told me to question Fitzwilliam and Jack about her. The last time he wanted a lock of hair from both of my brothers.” She sounded despairing. “He would not tell me why, but it would not be something good. He said he would punish me if I did not do it.”
Elizabeth had caught her breath, her stomach churning. That hair could give him control of Darcy’s body or mind. “And did you?”
Georgiana shook her head. “I cheated him. I had a mourning brooch from when my father died – my supposed father, that is – and I took the hair from that and told him it was Fitzwilliam’s, since the color was right. I thought that would be safest, as he was already dead, and the High King could do nothing to him. That could not work for Jack, but he had just left for Spain, so I said I would write to him and ask him to send me a lock.” She shivered. “Then I insisted on staying in London after that. He could not approach me there.”
The High King’s interest in Darcy’s family – her own family now – was very disturbing. So
Cerridwen asked Elizabeth the next morning if she would be willing to assist with creating the wards right away, she agreed with alacrity.
Rowan had arrived shortly thereafter, and Roderick and Georgiana joined them. Then they had walked nearly ten miles around the borders of Pemberley to begin the process. Georgiana was flagging by the end, and so was Elizabeth. The child within her must be sapping her usual energy, for her legs ached more than she would have expected. But it was worth it. This way the wards would protect the entire estate.
The dragon had stopped them at uneven intervals. At each one Rowan would scrabble in the dirt and tell Elizabeth to call on her land Talent.
Then something would happen. Something powerful. A shining golden symbol, like a letter in an alphabet she could not read, would form over the ground before sinking in and vanishing. Elizabeth could feel each of them link with the last, forming a ring around Pemberley, a new power in the land.
“Are you certain that will keep the fae out?” Georgiana asked.
“The High Fae, yes. Stopping a lesser fae is nigh impossible, but they are no danger to you,” said Rowan.
Roderick laughed. “Unless you mind having your boot laces tied together. We had a hob who loved to make us trip over our own feet.”
Rowan’s chest trembled with amusement. “Pranks, yes, against mortals. But they are blood-bonded not to harm any High Fae, so Georgiana is safe.” The dragon swung his head towards the Welshman. “Friend Roderick, you have made this much easier by being an excellent anchor. Have you done this before?”
Roderick shook his head. “I have not been so honored.”
Elizabeth interrupted, curious. “An anchor?”
“In this mortal world, dragons must stay near an anchor. For an older dragon, it must be a powerful one – the Nest, essentially. Younger ones can use smaller anchors. Permanent ones, like your Dragon Stones, or mobile ones, like companions. You are Cerridwen’s anchor.”
Elizabeth frowned. “But Roderick is not a companion.”
“Friend Roderick took on being a temporary anchor for me by wearing an Artifact and giving it a drop of his blood. We call it the lesser bond. Ah, here are the others.”
Elizabeth squinted, but it was still a moment before she could make out a pair of shapes winging towards them. Was a dragon’s eyesight especially sharp? Then the falcons landed and transformed into Cerridwen and Sycamore, crowding the small space justbeyond the gatehouse.
The gatekeeper blanched, clutching his withered hand in his good one, as if that would offer him some protection.
Elizabeth glanced up and down the thankfully empty road. Hopefully no one would come by before they were done, but… “Could we do this part elsewhere where there is less of a chance of being spotted by a passer-by?” Darcy would not be pleased if they had to put a binding on an innocent traveler.
“It is better here,” Rowan said. “The traditional entrance to the estate has an important resonance. It will strengthen the wards to close a circle here.”
The dragons, without any obvious instruction, shuffled to form the points of a triangle, slightly askew from the line of the road.
“Now, the rest of you, one each between us.” Rowan turned to the gatekeeper. “You, sir, should stand at the center. You have resonance as well, as the keeper of the gate.”
Elizabeth stepped between Cerridwen and Rowan. Who could blame the poor old gatekeeper for looking as if he were about to faint? This was an assembly such as she could never have imagined. Three dragons were enough of an impossibility, and here she stood with a fae changeling of royal blood, a disinherited Welsh mage-prince, and an old loyal retainer whose long service to Pemberley had been rewarded with the simple duty of opening and closing the gate. All performing powerful magic together.
“Companion Elizabeth, will you prepare the earth to receive the rune?” asked Rowan.
