“Your mother’s wyvern gave me a great gift…” I began, then trailed off.
I no longer felt the golden glow. But it could not be lost. The wyvern promised.
48
SOARING
LIZZY
I feltthe dagger’s influence break. Fènnù’s mind came free—still damaged, still seeking for me, but calming as the dagger’s commands for violence faded.
Yuánchi and I flew past Darcy’s soldiers on the shore. They were a blur. We circled the lake twice more while I tried to get a better glimpse. But my vision darkened until I could barely tell water from land.
Even whipped by the cold air, my face and neck were burning and slick with perspiration. And I was burned more truly. Splashes of black breath had penetrated Yuánchi’s shield through tears in his wings. Ragged holes were cut in my clothes, the skin beneath blistering.
Elizabeth Darcy Bennet. I must go into the deep.
I know.
Our senses were merged. I felt his unimaginable strength, at last exhausted. I felt the wind on his shredded wings. Drops of golden blood trailed in the air like a rain of jewels. At least his pain was no burden. My own illness outshone it.
That harmony made my choice easy.I am coming with you.
That is human foolishness. Return to your life.
My life is finished. Darcy told me not to say goodbye. I wish him to remember me as I was then, not nurse me through a handful of wretched hours.
Yuánchi did not reply. Silently, we glided around a quarter of the lakeshore.
I leaned closer, touching my cheek to one of the smooth, scarlet knobs on his neck.We saved England together. Perhaps it will not fade like a dream. Perhaps you will wake and find it flourishing.
The stone beach by the cave passed below, a burning, vague glare.
I hugged his neck tight.Remember me.
EMMA
Again,Yuánchi passed over us, so low that I saw Lizzy clearly. Mr. Darcy shouted this time, waving hard, and Yuánchi turned at last, sweeping out over the center of the lake. He soared up, higher and higher, then his wings folded around Lizzy like sheltering hands. He fell, a scarlet spear, and vanished in a colossal tower of spray.
Horrified cries and exclamations came from the soldiers. Harriet was sitting on the rocks beside me, and she gasped, “No!”
Mr. Darcy rushed into the lake, tearing off his coat, throwing his boots aside. He plunged into the water and swam, his powerful strokes meeting the cresting wave rolling from Yuánchi’s fall.
Mr. Knightley had taken off his own coat, but he was looking around the shore. “He cannot swim that far. The water is freezing cold. Is there a boat?”
There was nothing, of course. Pemberley lake was pristine and natural. One of the soldiers set out after Mr. Darcy, but he returned after fifty feet, shivering and defeated.
Silently, we gathered at the shore edge, watching the long swim until Mr. Darcy reached the center of the lake. He dove and vanished. It seemed a full minute before his head appeared, alone. The soldiers swore when they saw that, and Harriet, propped up to stand with Mr. Knightley, began to sob.
Mr. Darcy dove again. I counted my breaths this time. There were a dozen before his head reappeared, alone.
“Call him back,” I said. Mr. Knightley waved and called, but Mr. Darcy dove again. Grief was tearing my heart, but again I counted breaths. Twenty. Thirty. Still nothing.
I felt in my reticule and found the precious tea for Nessy. I passed it to Harriet and said, “Keep that safe,” then I waded into the lake. The water was ashock, numbing my feet in a step. The shelf was shallow at first, then dropped. Twenty yards out, it lapped my chest, and my ribs clenched.
When Mr. Darcy’s head reemerged. I shouted and waved, and he began to swim back. I breathed a gasp of relief, and finally, tears of grief ran from my eyes.
He splashed up beside me and stood, the water high on his waist. He bent in two, gasping, staggering in the water while he fought for air. His hands were blue, his arms shaking. He lost his balance and fell, choking, submerged.
