The dragon set back on his haunches. “I require an explanation. A connection to the Wicked King, may his name live in infamy, cannot be set aside so easily.”
Darcy lifted his chin. “These are secrets which are not mine to share.”
Tension thickened the air, and it was not eased when Darcy’s lynx padded out of the forest to stand by his side. Battle lines had been drawn.
And Elizabeth, heaven help her, no longer knew where she stood.
“Enough of this nonsense,” Granny said irritably. “This is a major setback, it cannot be denied, but your posturing will not help. Darcy, the dragons harbor deep hatred for the High King of Faerie going back thousands of years, stronger than your enmity for Napoleon. Sycamore cannot ignore this anymore than you could if the dragons in Spain were his fellow nestlings. If you refuse to explain your bond, we cannot continue these discussions.”
Darcy raised his chin, every inch the haughty aristocrat. “I regret that I cannot oblige you, but I will not break my word.”
He might as well have drenched her in ice water. “But we need their help!” she cried. And if the dragons blamed her for Darcy’s choices, they might not allow Cerridwen to stay with her, nor could she get a boon to save his life. Then she would have nothing but a faithless husbandwhom she had foolishly trusted. She shivered. How could a few words have destroyed everything she believed?
In sudden decision, she turned her back on Darcy, pressing her shaking hands together. “Sycamore, I will tell you everything I know about the attacks in Spain and Austria. Darcy’s knowledge is more complete, but I daresay I am aware of most of it.”
Darcy blanched. “Elizabeth, I told you those things in confidence!”
Sycamore’s irritated snort sent out smoke and the acrid smell of newly forged metal into the center of the grove. “This is a waste of time. Lizzy, I am sure you mean well, but he has deceived you. Do you expect me to believe stories of violent dragons from a man who shares blood with the Wicked King? He is trying to trick us.”
“Stop it, all of you!” Granny’s voice echoed in the clearing. “Lizzy, not another word until I have spoken privately to Sycamore, and that goes for you, too, young man.”
Now Granny was angry with her on top of everything else. Elizabeth could not bear it, standing exposed in front of all of them as her heart was ripped to shreds. She choked out the words, “Excuse me.” Then she turned and walked into the woods, forcing herself to take one measured step at a time, rather than fleeing as she ached to do.
Away from Darcy and his pretense of affection. Only last night he had promised not to hide things from her, and now this. There was no possibility of recovering from what she had learned today.
This was the end of her life at Pemberley. Once again she would have to leave behind a land that was alive under her feet, whose power ran through her body. All because Darcy had chosen to bond with a fae lady and deliberately kept it hidden from her. Nausea gripped her.
She had never truly known him.
She stumbled down a narrow path along the stream, but even among the trees, there was no sanctuary for her. She could not return to the house like this, facing the servants when she could barely breathe or control the tears springing to her eyes. There was no point in hiding, either; Darcy’s land bond would tell him where she was, no matter how she tried to disguiseher presence. There could be no escape. Instead, she clambered down to the stream’s bank.
All those tales of beautiful fae women who bonded human men to be their lovers – she would never, ever have imagined Darcy would be one of them. Her husband, who shared her bed and called her his love, while belonging to a woman whose extraordinary loveliness would never fade with age.
She would never have believed it, had she not heard the words come from his own mouth. What a fool she was!
How long had it been going on? She sank down on a rock that jutted out over the water, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms tightly around them as if it could ease the gnawing pain inside her or relieve the agony of betrayal. But nothing could do that. She could not even reach into the rich life of the land for comfort, because Pemberley was his. She had left her own land and her family behind to help him, all unknowing that he belonged to another woman.
Had all his warmth and affection been just a show to keep her supporting his mission? It must have been. She bowed her head to her knees.
How dare he keep such a thing from her, after his promises to tell her everything?
She closed her eyes, letting the burbling of the water fill her ears. It flowed from the Dark Peak, she knew that much, but where did it go from here? She would have to ask Darcy.
Darcy. Everything came back to him. Damn him!
“Elizabeth?” It was his voice.
She stiffened. The sound of the stream must have covered his footsteps. “Where does the river go from here?” she asked flatly.
Silence for a moment. “Into the Derwent, which flows into the Trent, and eventually the North Sea.”
Of course he knew. She did not trouble herself to reply or even to pick up her head.
“We have come to an agreement. I shall explain my bond to Lady Amelia, who will then advise the dragons on whether I can be trusted.” He sounded almost hurt. “I thought you might wish to hear my explanation, too.”
Slowly she pushed herself to her feet, her joints aching. “I suppose I might as well listen.” She did not try to sound anything but displeased.
“I am sorry I could not tell you sooner. I did not mean to take you by surprise.”
