Darcy had faced him and was still alive. Still alive! He must have drawn all that magic to overcome the distance between them, to give her that crucial message.
And she was too giddy to consider the consequences.
Giddy. Oh, dear, she had overdrawn her life force! And she was too far from the house to hope that they might hear her call out. She dared not try to move.
Thankfully, shuffling footsteps on the gravel path alerted her she was no longer alone. It was Edwards, the gardener.
“Mrs. Darcy, be ye in need of help?” he asked in his heavy local accent.
“Yes, very much so. Pray ask Lady Frederica to join me at her earliest convenience, and have tea with honey sent to me. Quickly.”
“Here, madam?” He sounded dubious.
“Yes, here.” Looking foolish by taking tea sitting on the garden path was the least of her worries. First she had to stay alive long enough to pass on Darcy’s shocking message.
So she simply lay there in the dirt, letting the land’s power trickle into her. Perhaps she could manage to walk to the bench, but for her child’s sake, she would not take the risk. Had the baby felt all the magic pouring through him?
A bonnetless Frederica arrived at a run. “What happened?” she demanded.
Elizabeth looked up at her, feeling foolish lying on the ground. “I had a sending from Darcy. A true sending, not just the link.”
“At this distance? No wonder you are drained! But he is alive?”
“Yes.” She rubbed her hand over her forehead. “But apparently Napoleon is…” It was too ridiculous. She could not say it.
“Dead?” Frederica exclaimed excitedly.
“No. He escaped, by turning himself into a falcon.”
It was beyond belief.
Frederica paled. “Napoleon… changed into a falcon?” Her voice rose on the last word. “Are you trying to tell me the Emperor of France is a dragon?”
Torn between disbelieving laughter and tears, Elizabeth raised her palms helplessly. “That is what Darcy sent me.”
Frederica sat down on the bench with a thump. “I suppose that explains how he can command dragons.”
“I suppose so.” No, it was too ridiculous a notion. But what else could Darcy have meant? A sudden unexpected longing for him pierced her, and she ached with the need to have him beside her. Instead he was somewhere in hostile territory, under the rule of a mad dragon. Her stomach did a flip-flop.
Then it happened again.
Once again she pressed her hand to her waist, this time in a different kind of disbelief.
Frederica stared at her in consternation “What is it? Are you ill? Where is that dratted tea? I told them to hurry!”
“No, it is just the babe quickening. All that Talent flowing through him must have woken him up.” What an odd feeling!
If only she could share it with Darcy.
The world came crashing back in at that thought, tearing her away from the miracle happening inside her. “We must tell the dragons. Can you call Quickthorn? I dare not try to send to Cerridwen while I am so weak.” And then she would have to decide what to do next. Send word to Granny, most likely, since she knew no one at the War Office, and they would not believe her anyway.
Frederica said, “Quickthorn is on her way. And look, here comes your tea.”
“Impossible!” announced Quickthorn, for at least the third time.
Elizabeth ignored her, inasmuch as one could ignore a dragon four times her size. She had finally made it to the bench, with her heavy shawl wrapped around her and lanterns lit on either side. And Cerridwen next to her, rocking back and forth and radiating distress.
She was not the only one. After Quickthorn’s initial urgent sending to the Nest, other dragons had arrived, two in falcon form and Rowan, who was still young enough to be able to take his true form briefly away from the Nest. Elizabeth had just told her story yet again and allowed Rowan to read her, too, so he could take her memories back to the Eldest.
