He turned the ball over in his hand. “Very well, I will consent to a blindfold, but only because I think it necessary that we share information. I would not want you going there alone, either, in these unsettled times.”
She hugged him tightly. “There is no cause for worry, but I thank you.” Then she kissed him.
The light from Darcy’s lantern reflected from damp stone walls and stalactites hanging from the ceiling. After all his expectations, this dragon Nest was nothing more than a simple cave, not unlike half a dozen others in these hills. He played in a similar one as a child, imagining it to be a fortress, but even then, he would have thought a dragon’s lair to be something grander. Apparently he had been wrong.
“Cerridwen says it is this way,” said Elizabeth, pointing to an alcove. She had been looking around with every evidence of pleasure. Perhaps caves were a rarity in Hertfordshire.
Darcy held up his lantern. “That is a dead end.”
“No, it is not,” she said absently as she walked forward –
…Into the cave wall. And disappeared.
“Elizabeth!” he cried. “Where are you?”
Her voice sounded only a few feet away. “Right here. What is the matter?”
“Kee-kee-kee!” It was obviously laughter – and directed at him.
Illusion. It had to be. When Darcy reached out to touch the wall, his hand went straight through.
But the illusion was perfect. Even knowing it was not real, he had to brace himself to step through, half-expecting his nose to smash into the stone.
Instead, he found himself in a palace.
There was no other word for it. It was throbbing with magic and full of extraordinary art, elaborate carvings, giant swirling mosaics that formed dizzying images, and more silver than he had ever imagined seeing in his entire life. Sculpted faces, human, fae, and draconic, peered out from nooks and crannies, drawing him in, making him want to come closer, to examine them, to learn their expressions. The floor was a mosaic of tightly fitted tiles of differing hues, making a giant pattern he could not comprehend.
And he had wondered if the creators of this had the mental capacity to read a newspaper!
Cerridwen transformed into her true form and led them through an archway and down a long tunnel, a vast corridor sized for dragons, and every inch of it decorated. How long had it taken the dragons to create this massive work of art? Centuries, at the very least. It sang of ancient power.
Finally they reached another chamber, one of even more mammoth proportions. Darcy stifled a gasp at the sight of the creature inhabiting it. He had thought the dragon who read him was mythic in size, but this one was almost twice as big, as long as three horses standing in line. The beast was awe-inspiring by that alone, but the intensity of magic shrouding herraised the hair on his neck. If anything in the world was invincible, surely it was this dragon.
He glanced at Elizabeth. Did she feel it, too?
Cerridwen crossed her forelegs in a supplicant’s position. “Honored Eldest, I present to you Companion Elizabeth and her mate, Darcy.”
“I appreciate your prompt attendance.” The Eldest’s voice reverberated through the chamber, so resonant that Darcy felt it in his bones.
“I am at your service,” Elizabeth said. “Both my husband and I are eager to do anything we can to stop these attacks.”
The dragon’s enormous golden eyes focused in on her. “Companion Elizabeth, will you share your knowledge with me?”
“Yes.” And without hesitation, she stepped forward and laid her hands on the Eldest’s talons, apparently without fear. Her fingers were tiny compared to the massive claw they rested on, but her face showed no distress.
The two stayed frozen, as if in a trance, apart from a small twitching of the tip of the Eldest’s tail. But it would be wrong to say they were silent, since the dragon’s aura shifted abruptly, almost violently, turning from initial curiosity and trepidation to deep pain.
Darcy swallowed hard, his chest tight. It was a struggle to watch Elizabeth engage with the dragon in a way that excluded him so completely.
After a few minutes, Elizabeth withdrew. “I am sorry,” she whispered, her lips trembling. “I know it must pain you greatly, as it does me.” She reached out her hand blindly towards Darcy, and he took it gladly, wishing he could pour his love for her through that connection.
The great dragon’s head shifted quickly from side to side, as if she were shaking herself. “The truth is often painful.” Turning those giant eyes towards him, she continued, “And you, Darcy. My nestmate Juniper has told me of what you shared with him about interviewing soldiers and sailors, but he would not allow me to see it for myself, since you had not given him permission to do so. He acknowledged not looking deeply, out of a belief that the attacks were illusions. Would you be prepared to let me see those memories, or do you prefer to answer verbal questions?”
Darcy straightened his shoulders. He was Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, mage and landed Talent. He could face another dragon peering into his thoughts. “I will share, but first I would like to hear what you have learned of these attacks.”
The dragon seemed undisturbed by this challenge. “I am embarrassed by how little we know. You have already heard, I believe, of the dragon who sacrificed herself to save the hatchlings. Because of that tragedy, we have broken our long-standing rules and sent dragons from nearby Nests to the Silent ones, both in Austria and Spain.” Her head sank down, and she lapsed into silence, the chamber filling with an aura of deep distress.
Darcy drew in a deep breath. “May I ask what they found?”
