Cerridwen turned to gaze into the fire. “You did not even know I was a dragon at the time.”
“But later, especially when you knew she was coming here, you still said nothing.”
The scales on the dragon’s neck rose. “I was under Silence when we met. Rana Akshaya was the first dragon to speak to me in two years, and she asked me politely not to mention her presence unless I thought it needful.”
Elizabeth caught her breath. Poor lonely Cerridwen! “No wonder you kept it to yourself.”
“I did tell the Eldest, when Rana Akshaya asked for an invitation to the Nest.” Cerridwen ducked her head. “She was not pleased with me. She said my first loyalty must be to the Nest.”
“I am sorry. That must have been unpleasant.” Elizabeth crossed to sit on the floor beside her dragon and stroked Cerridwen’s flank.
“I am still learning how to be part of a Nest. It has been so long, and I was only a small nestling then.” The dragon laid her head on Elizabeth’s lap.
It was likely safe to ask a question now. “How did the meeting with Rana Akshaya go?”
Cerridwen’s chest rippled with amusement. “Not at all as planned. The Eldest had given us gifts and a speech of welcome to give, but Rana Akshaya insisted on hearing about the Silent Nests and the attacks instead. The news about the Wicked King’s involvement with Napoleon distressed her greatly. We never got to our inquiries about the Nests in India, though I did learn one thing. They do not have Gates; we had to explain how we communicated with the other Nests. Though I suppose it makes sense, since the Gates were only created when the Nests went into hiding.”
That was news to Elizabeth. “I thought Gates had always existed.”
“No. It was one of my forebears who built them, along with his companion.” She preened a little.
Elizabeth could not help smiling. “You must be proud of that. Will there be more meetings with Rana Akshaya, then?”
Cerridwen sighed. “Many more, apparently. She is clearly displeased to be met only by our youngest dragons, but the Eldest will not budge on that, not until she is certain Rana Akshaya has nothing to do with the attacks on the Nests. Only Quickthorn, Rowan, and I, and we must report only to Juniper, who will tell the Eldest, in case Rana Akshaya uses some magical influence on us. It feels very strange, since Rana Akshaya is such an ancient dragon, older even than our Eldest, and we are mere hatchlings in comparison.”
It was unusual for Cerridwen to speak so openly about dragon politics. Elizabeth decided to take advantage of it. “If she is so old, how could she travel away from her own Nest? I thought older dragons could not take companions.”
Cerridwen raised her gold-ringed eyes to her. “The Eldest is very eager to learn that, too. If there is a way to travel without a companion, it would change everything.”
Elizabeth wrinkled her brow. “Chandrika said something about it, about how she cut her ties to her Nest. But there is more I must tell you.” She briefly summarized her earlier discussion with the maid. “What do you think?”
“She has always seemed to feel kindly disposed towards me,” Cerridwen said slowly. “And if I want to find out more about how Rana Akshaya left her Nest, it is better to have her here.”
She stroked the dragon’s side thoughtfully. Her nestling was growing up.
Chapter 19
The next day Darcyset out on errands in Paris. His manservant had procured a guidebook for him and given him a recommendation for a tailor, since nothing Darcy had bought in Rouen would do for even the most casual presentation to a member of the aristocracy, much less the emperor.
After being measured and looking at far too many fabrics – never a favorite activity of his – he headed for the fashionable shops. Also not one of his hobbies, but the War Office said it would look more suspicious if he did no shopping, so he browsed through several stores, looking for a perfect gift for Edward Harcourt’s non-existent stepmother who had supposedly sent him on this errand to France.
But he could not resist a fine silk handkerchief embroidered with wildflowers. Elizabeth loved them, often pointing out the violets and cowslips near the cottage at the heart of Pemberley. A large present was out of the question, as it was all but certain that he would have to abandon his luggage to make his escape. But a handkerchief could fit in his pocket, and it represented his hope that someday he would be able to give it to her.
There was one other thing he wanted to do for Elizabeth, and it involved being in just the right place when the dragon scale awoke. That afternoon, he followed his guidebook’s instructions toward the Seine, where he could see the towers of Notre-Dame rising over the rooftops of Île de laCité.A pair of soldiers stopped him at the bridge and demanded his papers, something that seemed to happen more frequently in Paris.
How did the French stand it, having to prove their identity again and again? Not that most of them got a quarter of the attention he did, but still, he could not imagine the English tolerating it. But he was accustomed to the procedure now, and so far his safe-conduct had not been challenged. He chatted with them amicably, agreed that theCode Napoléonwas much fairer to the common man than anything in England, and gave them a coin to drink to the emperor’s health. Then he crossed the Pont au Change and made his way toward the towers.
The buildings to his west were casting long shadows, but he still had time, so he paused in front of the great cathedral. He had seen engravings of it, of course, but it could not compare to the majesty of the ancient building, its square towers jutting towards the sky. Elizabeth would enjoy seeing these memories.
Then he strolled inside and found a pew which gave him a view of one of the rose windows. He gazed at it as the last of the light disappeared, studying every inch of it so that it was set in his mind. Then he took out the dragon scale and held it between his fingertips, waiting. When it finally came to life, he poured the image he had created through the link, the rose window and the glory of Notre Dame in the fading afternoon sun.
He could feel her gasp of pleasure. Her wordless gratitude and her love, the precious gift she had given him. And then she was gone.
Now the nave was dark except for the flickering candles lit by the faithful. He made his way between the tall pillars out into the square, warmed by his memories of Elizabeth.
He had to find a way to survive this and get back to her, so that someday, when there was peace,he could bring her here.
Finally, it came, after nearly a week of waiting, wondering if the conspirators had lost their nerve or, even worse, been discovered and arrested. A servant brought the response, demanding that he present himself to the Duc de Velaudin to explain the letter he had sent.
