Darcy’s pace was still slower than usual, so Elizabeth arrived at the door first. She reached for the clearly visible latch string, but her hand grasped at empty air. She glanced back at Rowan, who was conversing animatedly with Darcy, so she gave the rough planks a testing push.
At her touch, the hut dissolved into an expansive gabled stone house, rising to a height of three stories. The tiny door was now a massive arch of wood and iron, one that would not have looked out of place in a castle, and large enough to drive a small carriage through.
Or a modest sized dragon.
Illusion, of course. The dragons would not want wanderers stumbling across a medieval manor house where one had no right to be.
The vast door opened at her gentle push. She stepped into a great hall with beamed ceilings far above and furnishings of heavy dark wood. Tapestries of dragons and humans covered the walls, surrounding an immense inglenook fireplace. It was like stepping five hundred years into the past, apart from the many sinuous carvings and sculptures like those in the Nest, clearly of draconic make. And a raised platform scattered with cushions, perfectly suited for dragon comfort.
She turned in a slow circle, ending facing Rowan. “Oh, my. Are we the only ones here?”
“Apart from the Kith who maintain it. Centuries ago, before the Great Concealment, companions were more common, and many of them made this their home. It has been a long time since a companion stayed here.”
Kith. It took a moment for her traitorous memory to recall the name for the human servants employed by dragons. “Where are the other companions of this Nest?” She was eager to meet them and learn from them.
“You are the only one. Before today, we had none.”
“None?” she cried.
“Taking companions is rare in these days of concealment, and our Nest has had such ill fortune with bindings in the last century that the Eldest determined we would make no more attempts.”
She frowned. “What sort of ill fortune?” Granny had never mentioned this.
Rowan sat back on his haunches, radiating sadness. “First there was Companion Amelia, who no sooner made her vows than she left, taking Sycamore with her. Two unsuccessful attempts to bond followed that, and one human did not recover. Then there was a great disaster nearly four decades ago, when a bonding went wrong. It changed both the dragon and the mortal, allowing the human to misuse her Talents. Hornbeam still lives among us, though his mind and his strength have never been the same. The Eldest concluded our ability to bond must have weakened over time, making the risk no longer acceptable.”
So she would be the last companion of the Nest? It was heartbreaking. “Yet the Eldest agreed to take me,” she said slowly.
“You had already formed a bond, and that is the dangerous part.” The dragon sounded wistful. “And there was no evidence you would turn our teachings against others, as in the last binding.”
What had happened to that companion, and how had she misused her Talents? She wanted to ask more, but Darcy looked weary again and was surreptitiously holding the side of the table. The walk must have tired him. “Is there a room where my husband can rest?”
A young woman appeared at a side doorway. “I will show tha’ the way, honored Companion.” One of the Kith, presumably.
“I will check on you later, should you require anything further,” the dragon said.
“I thank you for your assistance.” Elizabeth tried not to sound hurried, but Darcy’s hands were trembling where he clutched the table. He would never admit his own weakness, but she could do it for him.
“I pray you, lie back again,” Elizabeth pleaded. “It has only been half an hour, and you are still pale.” Given how much trouble he had coming up the uneven stairs, she doubted he would get far if he tried to get up.
Darcy’s eyes darkened. “If I must be in bed, I would rather you were here, too.”
She laughed. “You must be feeling better, but I still insist that you rest. Come, I will sit beside you, and we can pretend we are lord and lady of the manor, waiting for news from the Crusades. Although I should not say that; the Crusades are a sore spot for dragons.”
“Truly? Why would they care?”
“It was the end of the Great Age of Dragons. The dragons counseled against seeking out holy wars in faraway lands, and the English kings listened – at first. But Richard the Lion Heart, whom the dragons callRichard the Traitor, wanted a war, and he resented the dragons for opposing him. He did not like the dragons dispensing justice to the people, either; he thought that should be the prerogative of the King. He came back from his crusade carrying the banner of St. George the Dragon Slayer, claiming that all dragons were liars and should be killed. He spread false stories of dragon hoards to tempt people to hunt them. Eventually that led to the Great Concealment.”
Darcy’s brow furrowed. “I can see why he would not wish to share power with the dragons, but how could mortals kill them?”
“They cannot, unless the dragon permits it. But sometimes they prefer to die rather than to kill in self-defense, given the consequences.” It was a dark thought, and not one she wished to consider at this time when dragons were being forced to become murderers. She rubbed her hand over the slight bulge in her abdomen. What a world to be bringing a child into!
Darcy did not miss the gesture. “Is anything wrong?”
“No, just thinking about the future.” Perhaps this was the moment to bring up a sensitive subject. “Though I suppose I must think about some practical arrangements. Perhaps Mrs. Sanford will meet with me now. Having a nearby midwife who understands bonding to the land would be an enormous advantage.”
His warm look faded into an expression of embarrassment. “A fine idea, although I have learned something unexpected about her. I would have told you, had we not been so preoccupied with the dragons.” He paused. “Mrs. Sanford is my half-sister.”
She wished she could let herself smile. Not because he knew, but because he was voluntarily telling her a secret. “I had heard rumors, but did not know what to make of it.”
