It was true, every word of it. Darcy would be furious that she was even considering it. But how could she live with herself if he never returned, knowing she might have prevented his death?
And how she ached to see him, even if only for a moment, even if she could not touch him, just to know they were breathing the same air.
“I know,” she said heavily. “It is just so hard.”
Frederica’s expression softened. “If I could go for you, I would.”
Elizabethnodded jerkily.
When Elizabeth retired to her rooms for the night, Cerridwen was drowsing by the fireside, having clearly returned from the Nest.
Elizabeth had ordered the room rearranged as Cerridwen grew, replacing the inlaid cabinet and the vanity with delicately curving legs with heavier furniture less likely to be overturned by a stray dragon wing or tail. She liked the look of it, the feeling of history it gave, and thought she would keep it this way even after Cerridwen outgrew the space. She had never had the opportunity to make a room her own before, and the process was exciting.
One thing she would not change, though, was the hand-painted chinoiserie wallpaper with its exquisite depictions of trees and dragons. She loved that.
She would keep the canopied bed with the elaborately carved headboard, too, the one where Darcy made love to her so often, where she had slept in his arms. She wanted those memories.
They might be all she would have.
She tiptoed past her sleeping dragon. It was good to see her back there; Cerridwen had spent the last two nights elsewhere, ever since Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived, and had seemed distracted and unhappy even when Elizabeth had seen her talking to the colonel about what illusions could be useful for trapping French assassins. Most oddly, she had seemed to be avoiding mental contact with Elizabeth.
She did not appear angry, though. If Elizabeth had done something wrong, it would have been obvious in her aura. But she was still worried.
The dragon opened one gold-ringed eye. “There you are.”
Elizabeth dropped down to sit beside her. “Yes, I am here, dearest. I have missed you.”
Cerridwen’s chest rose and then fell. “I have been struggling, all in vain.”
This was worrisome. “What is the matter? Can I do anything to help?”
“I fear you must.” She lifted her head and laid it across Elizabeth’s leg. “I am so very sorry. I have tried everything. I asked the Eldest whether I could form the lesser bond to that soldier, even though he does not like me, or to someone else, but she said it was impossible. Then I tried to see if I could give the taste of Darcy’s blood to another dragon. It did not work with Rowan or Quickthorn, and then Juniper said it was too dangerous even to try with an older dragon. There is nothing for it.”
It took a moment for this deluge of words to penetrate, and then Elizabeth’s heart went out to her hard-working dragon. “Have you been trying to find a way to rescue my husband? How good you are, sweet Cerridwen!” No wonder she had been in low spirits. Did she think Elizabeth would blame her for her failure?
“But I could not do it.” There was a painful intensity to her aura. “I did not want this, not for you.”
“What did you not want?”
“To have to take you with me. To France.” The words echoed through the room, off the chinoiserie wallpaper, taking on a weight of their own.
If only she could! “Dearest, you cannot know how much I want to go help him, but I must remain here. It would not be safe, for me or the child I carry. Or for you, when they have those dragon lodestones.”
“I can keep you safe. Whatever might happen, I would only be a thought away.”
“What if Darcy needs the power of Pemberley, and I am not here to give it to him? Or if I cannot return in time for the birth? The baby must be bonded to the land.”
Cerridwen raised her head to study her with grim determination. “There are no guarantees, but we must still do it.”
It made no sense. Cerridwen liked Darcy well enough, but that did not account for this insistence. “Why?”
Her head slumped down again. “My visions say so.”
“Your foresight?” Elizabeth stared at her. “But you never mentioned going to France before.”
“I cannot control when the vision comes to me,” the dragon snapped. “When that soldier spoke of taking me to France, that was when I knew the price if I did not go.”
“What is the price?” Elizabeth asked. Cerridwen had always refused to reveal the contents of her mysterious visions of the future to Elizabeth.
